Because even now, even after everything… part of me, somewhere deep down in the mess of it, still wants to believe he didn’t do it. Didn’t hand me over.
But how can I? I saw him, I saw him push that blade into Ezzy’s side and let her drop to the ground.
And it's my fault, I handed him the fucking knife. I didn’t just fall for a lie. I fed it. I let it crawl into my bed. I let it hold me, tell me I was safe. I should’ve known, maybe I did know. He even warned me.
My stomach twists so hard it hurts. For a second, I think I might actually be sick—No they don’t get to see me break. So I force it down, dig my nails into my palms until the sting cuts through the spin in my chest.
Then, suddenly, the cart stops.
We’ve only been going about an hour, far, but not far enough to reach the Northern Peaks.
“Why are we stopping?” I ask, the words scraping out too thin, too close to fear. I hate it.
Strannt doesn’t answer. He goes quiet but the officer beside him just smiles—dark, expectant and I know that look. I’ve seen it before. I knowexactlywhat it means. The door opens.
“Out. Now.” Orders the blonde-haired officer who was driving the carriage.
A jolt tears through me as he hauls me out, jacket splitting at the seams with a harsh rip. Cold air rushes in, biting at the skin now exposed. Then he shoves me aside, forcing me to stand. I stagger but stay upright, wrists and ankles strain against the rope, breath tight in my chest.
Strannt and the bald officer follow, stepping out of the carriage and line up in front of me.
“Right, boys,” says the blonde one, his eyes dragging up and down me. “Toss a coin. See who goes first?”
Strannt hesitates. Then: “Sure.”
Three sets of eyes find me—but it’s not just the way they look that makes my fist clench. It’s what’s underneath. That slow, simmering hunger. Like I’m something they’ve already decided belongs to them.
Something cold settles in my gut. But I keep my face still. Don’t react, don't give them anything.
“Okay, heads and Strannt takes her,” the bald one smirks. “Tails, me and blondie here double team her.”
The coin spins in the air and hits the ground with a dull clink.
Heads.
“Fuck,” the bald one mutters. “Fine. Strannt, you’re up first.”
Strannt shifts forward, hands at his belt—then stops. “I’m not ready yet. You two go first.”
“Dick not working?” The blonde one barks. “Fine by me.”
Belts unbuckle with every step they take. Two against one, bound hands and feet, a bruised body, no magic. My muscles twitch, instinct screaming to fight, to run, todosomething. But I can’t. And they know it. They’re laughing now.
My brain scrambles—fight, fight, fight—but my body already knows the truth. If I fight, they’ll beat me until there’s nothing left. Until I’m begging them to stop. If I don’t, if I just go still, they’ll think they’ve won. Both means losing. Both are hell.
I bite down hard again on the inside of my cheek, taste blood, anchor myself to the sting.
If I can’t stop this, maybe I can choose how to survive it. So I pull back. I fold everything that’s mine—my thoughts, my name—and lock it deep inside where they can’t reach. Let them touch what’s left. The rest of me is already gone.
The blonde one leans in, I can smell the sour sweat on his skin, the bite of his breath.
“Don’t worry darling.” His voice gleeful. “You won’t remember a thing because you’ll be dead by this evening anyway.”
A breathless jolt flares under my ribs. Don’t react. Don’t give them anything.
He grabs for my belt?—
—the air shifts.
