Page 251 of Coal Hearts

I stopped.

I blinked.

But I didn’t cry.

Didn’t cry even though a million tears pressed like daggers behind my eyes.

Didn’t cry even though every word, every breath, every gasp and heartbeat throbbed and ached and burned with sorrow and grief and misery.

I blinked again as he cupped my cheek and guided me to the left. “Come with me.”

I followed.

Padding barefoot and bare, caped in goosebumps and scribed by Henri’s wounds, I had no free will left.

Tugging me past the kitchen with its huge fridge full of fruits and vegetables, past the monstrous-sized bathroom with iridescent tiles shimmering from the floor to ceiling, he didn’t stop as we skirted the wardrobe large enough for a Broadway show, morbidly depressing with only negligées and lingerie on neat tidy hangers.

Finally, he pushed open the door at the end of the jewel’s private corridor.

A room I’d never entered.

“In here.” Slapping the switch by the door, I flinched as rows upon rows of illumination flickered on, dancing over a treasure box of gold, gems, and jewelry.

The drugs in my system painted a hulking dragon in the corner. Smoke curling from its scaly-purple snout, its horn-tipped tail slinking around the many, many drawers and baskets full of priceless loot.

I wanted to ask what this room was. To know why it looked like a vault full of forbidden fortune.

I tried to blink away the illusion of a lavender-skinned possessive dragon as another plume of smoke snaked from its nose.

But...I had no energy.

No strength.

But at least I didn’t cry.

Didn’t cry.

“Pete?” Kirk appeared on the threshold, rubbing sleep from his eyes and flicking us a worried glance. His white pair of boxers didn’t hide his impressive bulge. “You guys were a while. Everything okay?”

Peter let me go.

I drifted forward like dandelion fluff on the wind.

His voice licked at my heels. “I’m worried about her.”

“Why?” I felt Kirk’s stare on me. “She looks in one piece, minus a few cuts.”

“Her body maybe, but I’m petrified that I broke her mind.”

“How would you break her mind?” Kirk choked. “Wait. Y-You didn’t touch her, did you, man? Fuck...you’re not...you don’t have feelings for her, do you? I mean, I saw the way you looked at her in the showers. I know you think it’s your responsibility to look after us all, but you never looked at any of the others like—”

“Quiet.” Peter interrupted. “It’s not like that.”

“You sure about that?” A scuffle sounded. “She speaks Hindi...same as you. That similarity seems to have caused an instantaneous bond—”

“I said quiet,” Peter hissed.

“Not until I make you see sense.” I looked over my shoulder as Kirk grabbed Peter by the elbow and growled, “You saw what they did to Macy and Sayd. The moment Vile Victor found out they were in love, he tortured the fuck out of them.”