The choice isn’t to scream or stay silent.
The choice is their lives or my rescue.
I close my eyes. Tears spill down my cheeks and pool against his hand. My whole body is shaking with pain, grief, and a rage so deep I can feel it in my bones.
But I don’t make a sound.
“This way,” someone calls. “Trail leads west.”
West. Away from us.
“You’re sure?” Wil doesn’t sound certain, the tracks he’s been following must be telling him a different story.
“Dog’s got something. Come on.”
The footsteps move away.
No. No, don’t go. Please don’t go. I’m right here. I’m right here.
But I don’t move or try to make a sound. I remain kneeling in the dirt, with tears running down my face and listen to my only chance of rescue walk away from me.
As they go, they talk about me, worrying about whether I’m hurt, and which direction to try next. But underneath it, I can hear what they’re really saying.
They think I’m already dead. Finding me alive would be a miracle they don’t quite believe in.
The fae doesn’t move from where we’re crouched behind the oak. My knees go numb. Hunger cramps come in waves, my stomach twisting around nothing. His body is warm against my back, and I hate that some part of me notices … that I’m grateful for the heat even while I’m screaming inside.
Until I hear Brennan call my name again.
Just once. “Alleria!”
I want to answer so badly it hurts, and my throat opens around a scream that would bring him running. I want to tell him I’m here, I’m alive. The words pile up in my throat, beat against the hand over my mouth, and die there.
I can’t reach him. I can’t reach anyone. I can’t do anything except kneel here and listen, knowing that I’m choosing this. I’m choosing silence. I’m choosing their lives over my potential freedom.
I hate him for it. I hate him for making me choose.
Eventually the sounds fade. The dog’s barks grow distant, the voices thin out and disappear. We stay there until the last echo dies, and there’s only the sound of our breathing. Then he loosens his grip.
The arm around my ribs releases first. I suck in a shallow breath through my nose, and the pain of expanding my lungs makes my vision swim. Stars burst behind my eyes. Then his hand lifts from my mouth.
A sound escapes me, small and broken, half sob, half whimper. I don’t know what to call it. I know I hate how weak it sounds.
The heat of his body leaves my back as he stands. He steps around me, moving into my line of sight, and looks down at where I’m still on my knees.
I don’t have the strength to get up.
They were right there. Brennan was right there. And I letthem walk away.
He grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet, then we’re moving again.
Time loses meaning. There’s only the pattern of putting one foot in front of the other, the fire in my ribs with each step, and the ache in my shoulder. I keep listening for horns, the dogs, or any sign that the search party has doubled back. But the forest stays silent.
They’re gone, searching in the wrong direction.
That’s the thought that finally breaks me. The crushing weight of how helpless I am. How at his mercy. I stop when he stops. I have no control over anything. Not my body, not my freedom, not even my own voice.
The tears start again, spilling from my eyes, running down my cheeks. I don’t bother stopping them. What would be the point?
