"I should mention," Thaine added, grip tightening fractionally, "the last person I brought back tried to bite through her own tongue. Thought death was better than facing him. Shall I tell you what he did to her for trying to steal that choice from him?"
Defiance drained from her body as she went limp in his grip. She let her shoulders drop, her hands falling from where they'd been clawing at his wrist. He smiled, satisfied, and loosened his hold just a fraction.
Briar drove her knee up hard.
Thaine doubled over with a sound that was part surprise, part fury. His grip released and she didn't waste time looking back. She ran, bursting through what remained of the office door while splintered wood grabbed at her arms, scraping flesh, but the pain didn't slow her down.
"You little—" His snarl behind her cut off, replaced by something worse. Laughter. "Oh, wonderful! It's been so long since one actually fought back!"
The parking lot was unrecognizable now. Trees older than memory thrust through asphalt, their canopy so thick she couldn't see stars. Roots writhed across the ground, trying to catch her ankles. She leaped, dodged, and kept moving.
Behind her, Thaine's footsteps were unhurried.
"Wrong direction!" he called cheerfully. "The highway's the other way. Although I suppose it doesn't matter. All roads lead to him now. That's the beauty of it, you know. You can run in any direction and still end up exactly where he wants you."
She veered left, toward where she thought the highway should be. A root caught her foot and she went down hard, palms scraping on broken concrete. The mark blazed with fresh agony, thorns digging deeper, and she bit back a scream.
She had to move, had to get up and keep running.
She scrambled to her feet, but the landscape had shifted. Where the highway should have been, only forest stretched—ancient and dark and waiting.
"Disorienting, isn't it?" Thaine was beside her now, leaning against a tree that hadn't existed seconds ago. "The wonderful thing about the Betweenlands. Direction is negotiable. Distance is a suggestion. You could run all night and never leave this parking lot. Or you could take three steps and find yourself in his throne room. Shall we test which he prefers?"
She spun and ran the opposite way. He appeared ahead of her, examining his nails.
"Since you’ve made your decision, I do hope you keep running," he said. "Each step makes the punishment more creative. He told me once that defiance is like wine, it needs time to develop its full bouquet."
Briar grabbed a broken branch and swung it at his head. He caught it one-handed, twisted, and suddenly she was spinning, falling, landing hard enough that it knocked the breath from her lungs.
"Points for creativity," he said, crouching beside her as she gasped for air. "But you're fighting the wrong battle. This isn't about escape anymore. It's about how you arrive. On your feet with a shred of dignity, or..." He traced a finger through the air above her face, not quite touching. "Well, I've dragged them by their hair, their feet, their intestines once—that was memorable. The sounds she made..."
The mark was spreading. She could feel it now, thorns beneath her skin growing in real time, following the lines of her veins. Her left hand was going numb.
"On my feet," she wheezed, "or on my knees. Those are the choices, right?"
"Smart girl. Though technically, there's also 'in pieces,' but he might be upset if I break you… then again, it might be worth the punishment.”
She grabbed a handful of dirt and moss, flung it at his face, and rolled sideways as he recoiled.
Her legs tangled in roots that hadn't been there before but she kicked free, crawling forward, and made it three feet before a hand closed on her ankle.
"No more games." Thaine's voice had lost its playful edge. "You've had your little rebellion. Time to face the consequences."
She twisted, using momentum he didn't expect, and her foot connected with his jaw. He released her with a curse.
But when she tried to stand, the world tilted. The mark wasn't just spreading—it was pulling. Every beat of her heart dragged her toward something, toward him.
"You feel it now," Thaine said, rubbing his jaw. Blood leaked from a split lip, too dark for blood and thick as tree sap. "The call. You can't run from your own blood, little rabbit. And that's what you are now. His to shape however he pleases."
She tried anyway, stumbling forward on legs that didn't want to work right. The forest pressed in, paths appearing and disappearing, always herding her in one direction, guiding her deeper into the dark.
"This is taking too long." Thaine sounded bored now. "He's waiting. And when he waits, he thinks. And when he thinks..." He whistled low. "Well, let's just say you want him reacting, not planning."
Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around her legs, her waist, her arms. Not painful, almost gentle, but inescapable all the same. She fought them, tore at them with her one good hand, but for every vine she broke, two more rose to take its place.
"There we go," Thaine said, walking a slow circle around her as she struggled. "Much better. Though I do appreciate the knee to the groin. It's been centuries since prey fought dirty. I might mention it to him. He collects fierce things. Likes to see how long it takes to break them."
"He'll get more than he bargained for," Briar snarled.
