I couldn’t breathe.
A shadow crossed the blistering sun, pressing soft lips against mine. My nose was pinched then a huge gust of air whistled down my throat, bringing sweet, sweet oxygen.
My chest expanded then deflated.
Not enough.
More. Give me more.
The life-giver understood, once again filling me with breath along with forgiveness, sorrow, and regret.
I retched.
Strong hands flipped me onto my side, patting my back with solid thumps as I vomited up bucket loads of lake.
It hurt.
God, it hurt.
My lungs turned inside out with agony as the overstretched organ gave up trying to survive on water, holding out eager hands for air instead.
With air came life, and with life came the knowledge that I’d died.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
I’d died.
And I preferred it.
I sank into despair.
How had I given up so easily?
Then realization slammed into me of who I was and where.
I was Nila.
This was the Second Debt.
All around me stood Hawks.
Bastard, traitorous Hawks.
Then it didn’t matter anymore.
Pain enveloped me in a heavy cloak, squeezing me from all angles. Agony I’d never felt before battered me like a storm. Agony lived in my head, my heart, my bones, my blood.
Everythinghurt.
Everything had died.
Coming alive was sheer torture, welcomed by a ring of devils.
“Come back to me, Nila.” Jethro breathed into my ear, barely registering above the bone-crippling agony I lived. “I won’t let you fucking leave me.” He licked a tear leaking from my eye. “Not yet. I won’t let you leave, not yet.”
I couldn’t look at him.
I couldn’t listen to him.
