Page 33

My health had fared well without any slowdowns for months, but the stress of the attack on my Corridor had taken a toll. Holding one of the glass bottles in my hand, I slouched over the trunk.

I contemplated whether it was worth it to use a dose so soon.

A creak in the floorboards caught my attention. A figure moved in the corner of my vision.

I started to scream as I stood, but my wail was cut short.

A rope came around my neck from behind, and I was yanked backward against a hard chest. The wooden box of remedies fell from my hands and the vials shattered at my feet.

I gasped. “Get off m—”

The rope tightened, cutting off my voice. I gagged and heaved. Pulled to my tiptoes, I couldn’t find any leverage.

I hadn’t heard them coming. Hadn’t felt them coming.

Panic set in as another entered the room—a sandy-haired man with too few teeth, flipping a dagger in his hand. Every awful thing they imagined doing slammed into me as I lost control over my thoughts.

“Cut her.”

“Bleed her out.”

“Kill her.”

The frenzy of their wrath painted my mind with rotting, wretched hatred. I choked on the mental onslaught as much as I choked for air.

“Be quick about it,” the one holding me growled. I tried to shake my head, tried to scream, tried to do anything.

I’d never felt so fucking hopeless. I dug my nails into the man’s arm, trying to claw him away. Time slowed; icy-cold terror spread through my veins.

No one was coming.

Darvanda had probably planned this after realizing I couldn’t help him.

A small boy stood frozen in the doorway, watching in horror. Hurley—the damned groom.

The sandy-haired man approached with a predatory expression. He grinned before pointing the dagger at my forehead.

I closed my pooling eyes, praying to any Source who would listen.

Please, please, please...

Make it stop.

“Open your eyes, Henosis whore. I want you to watch while I carve you up...”

When I refused, I felt a cool swipe across my cheek and then the burn of the cut he’d left there. My vision blurred.

This was how I would die?

Pathetic.

Weak.

I channeled all of my anger and let it fill the room; it clung to the curtains and dripped from the wooden chandelier. When I opened my eyes, my gaze sharpened and my face contorted. If I was going to die, then it wasn’t going to be while whimpering like a fucking fool.

The ruddy-faced dagger-wielder drew back the blade, lining it up to pierce my heart.

Then, I reached out.