“I know. That’s why I fucking did it,” I admit, my red eyes locking with his. “Now they’ll have to rethink everything.”
Hell steps forward, his hands finding both my shoulders and he looks me square in the eyes.
“They always said your Wrath would be disastrous,” he goes on. “But don’t let it mess with you now. Stay focused and remember exactly what the fuck you are. We might not be able to kill every monster out there, but the ones that built us? We’ll make them wish they never did.”
He flicks his head toward my bike, hinting for me to leave.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aurelia
When I wake up, it feels like I’ve been dumped into a furnace.
The air is thick, too thick, and every breath burns as it drags down my throat. Sweat clings to my skin, pooling between my ribs and sliding down my sides. My black hair sticks to my face, and when I try to move, something scrapes across my back.
I blink hard, vision swimming in the dim orange glow of a single overhead bulb, flickering weakly like it’s dying with me.
Then I realize, I’m in a cage.
Thick, rusted bars surround me and the floor beneath me is grated steel, heat pulsing up through it like the ground itself is boiling.
As I glance around, pipes groan in the walls around me, hissing with steam. The air reeks of burning oil and iron, and they have the audacity to have a fireplace burning in here as well.
I’m half-naked, my black one-piece ripped and damp, clinging to me. My ballet shoes are still on, soaked with sweat and it feels like they’re filled with liquid.
My knees sting where they’ve pressed too long against the searing metal. I try to shift, but there’s barely room to turn without knocking into the bars. Panic surges in my chest as the reality settles in, this isn’t just heat. This is a fucking boiler room.
Alarm bells ring in my head as I start piecing it together. Someone fucking kidnapped me. Something was shoved over my face, and I blacked out after training.
Shit. Madame. She got shot.
I jolt, lifting my head way too fast and my skull cracks into the low metal roof above and knocks me back down. A groan leaves me, the pain sharp, my head throbbing.
Fuck. Where the hell am I?
How do I get out? Who the fuck took me and why?
Zye? Was it Zye?
Shit—was it Zye?
Before I can spiral any further, I hear the heavy metallic scrape of a bolt unlocking on the door.
I barely manage to get up on my elbows, body heavy as the door creaks open.
Two legs step into view and I see boots. Male.
He closes the door behind him and turns the bolt again, then crouches fast.
My blood runs cold when I see his face staring back at me.
Wrath’s godfather.
“Hey, Arabella,” he says slowly, almost like he’s savoring the words.
I tense up at the name he used.
How the fuck does he know my real name?
