“Don’t worry.” Rhys’s voice is pure ice. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”
His words not only rip me open, but they’re like salt poured into the wound. I flinch, but the drugs make me slow and syrupy.
A guard punches in a code, and the bars slide open to let Rhys step inside. They clang shut behind him while the guard remains outside.
“Rhys…” Tears burn my throat. “I was trying to get to you. I didn’t try to kill myself. I would never?—”
“Shh.” He crouches beside the bed, livid eyes raking over my face and stilling on the bruises on my cheek and lips. “Was that from the fall?” he whispers.
I shake my head, pain stinging, and I can’t help but wince.
“Say goodbye to him,” my father barks from outside the bars.
“No,” I choke. “Rhys can’t leave. It’s Christmas.”
“And Mr. Quinlan’s mother is expecting him,” my father snaps. “Isn’t she, Mr. Quinlan?”
My stomach twists in a slow, sick churn. I want to go with him, but I know it’s useless.
Rhys’s warm fingers brush my cold ones. He flinches like he’s been forced to touch a cold steel pole. Then he straightens, face smooth, eyes empty. “It’s been fun, crazy girl,” he says, scoffing.
My lips tremble, and I bite down hard, trying to stop it, trying anything to hold myself together.
Rhys turns, voice as blunt as an ocean stone. “Have a nice life with Kosta. You’re his mess now.”
The words lance straight through me, destroying any hope I have left.
“Go ahead and leave,” I murmur, my voice shaking with anger. “You’re just like all the rest of the cowards who wouldn’t stand up to my father.”
Rhys stops in his tracks and stares at me. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“I never liked you anyway. You’re a jerk.” And then I let out a wail to wake the dead to make them think I really am crazy.
But I’m really dying, watching Rhys walk away.
The guard locks the door behind him, and after the clang, the light in my cell goes dim. All I hear is the drip-drip-drip of poison in my veins and the echo of Rhys’s footsteps fading down the hall.
Leaving me behind.
Chapter 49
Rhys
Ican still hear her screaming.
Even though the cell door is locked, even though they dragged me out, even though I’ve put half a hallway between us, Fallon’s voice still echoes, ragged and broken. It’s fucking carved into my skull.
My Fallon.
God, what did I do?
I have no fucking idea how to survive leaving her. But I have to walk away from her…for now. I can’t fight them all by myself. Not when they have her locked up like that.
My feet scrape across the stone floor as I follow the guard through the bowels of this mansion. Every step feels like walking on broken glass with bare feet. It’s cold, and the air is tinged with the scent of iodine and bleach that attempts to cover years of spilled blood.
It’s a dungeon pretending to be a hospital. Stretchers are crammed into alcoves, IV poles tossed and crisscrossed, and trays of surgical instruments lean against the walls, crusted with brown, dried blood.
When I stepped into her cell, Fallon’s eyes were hopeful, full of love for me, waiting for me to rescue her, but then I told her she was nothing to me. Words that are still bitter on my tongue. Her expression sank, like I’d torn her heart out with my bare hands. She thinks I hate her. Or worse, that I never cared about her at all. That our whole relationship has been a lie.
