Blood sprays in a wide arc, warm and slick. It splatters across the polished floor, streaks the pristine walls, beads along the silver pipes. The copper tang fills my throat, clogs my nostrils.
The machine moves again. It lumbers forward, seeking its next kill.
The room explodes with panicked cries, the screech of grinding metal, the pounding of frantic footsteps as bodies shove and stumble, each person fighting for escape.
I whirl, searching.Where is Alder?
He promised to save me. And here, in this kingdom, the value of a knight in shining armor outweighs any deposit into my bank account. Right now, survival isn’t about power or money—it’s about protection. His protection.
The hum beneath my feet intensifies, climbing up my legs, spreading through my body like a fever.
Run,the thought screams in my head.Run now!
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I listen.
I run.
Ten
My ballet flats slip against the crimson-slick floor, bloodsmearing beneath my frantic steps as I weave through the throng of screaming, panicked bodies. The metallic tang clings to the back of my throat, and every breath rasps like sandpaper in my chest. Elbows jab my ribs, shoulders slam into mine, and silver painted nails rake down my arms, but I grit my teeth and keep going. Keep running. Keep moving. Keep trying to get away.
Until someone barrels into me from the side.
I stumble, slip, and go down hard—my shoulder slams into the floor first, but it’s the sharp crack of my head against stone that steals the breath from my lungs.
Stars burst behind my eyes. The world tilts. Sound warps, everything dull and echoing as if I’m submerged underwater.
I blink hard. Once. Twice. My eyelids feel heavy.
The chaos around me slows, softens, and the sharp edges blur like a watercolor painting left in the rain.
Someone screams. I try to push myself up, but mylimbs aren’t cooperating. They’re numb and fuzzy, like they belong to someone else. My head throbs. I can’t tell if I’m bleeding or just dizzy. Maybe both.
I think I hear my name.
And then I’m being lifted, moved, gripped by hands I’d know anywhere.
Alder. His gaze locks on mine. His eyes burn with something I haven’t seen before—something fierce, unshakable.
Fear.
For me.
“You’re safe, Gemma. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
It’s not a reassurance. It’s not even a promise. It’s a vow.
Then we’re moving.
He shifts me against his chest like I weigh nothing, and barrels through the chaos without hesitation. Bodies slam into us, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t flinch. The crowd bends around him, parts for him.
My head lolls against his shoulder. The pain pulses in and out, afraid to commit. Everything feels floaty. I feel floaty. Like I’m watching from above—like I’m dreaming someone else’s dream.
But I still cling to him. Even when the world spins. Even when I’m not sure if I’m standing or being carried. He’s the only solid thing I have.
Someone slams into us, but Alder doesn’t go down. His arms are steel around me.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair.
