Page 138 of A Sweet Destruction

I made sure Ford saw it. This was entirely reliant on his ability to nearly read my mind. If I thought about that too long, about what that meant about who we were to each other, I’d lose my resolve.

But he saw it, knew what I was thinking about. A few little blue pills that could keep him alive.

Unfortunately, Elijah caught it, too. He crouched down in front of me, taking my face in his hand in a rough grip. Ford’s answering snarl ripped a hole through my chest.

“What was that?” Elijah snapped, his fingers pressing in painfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, casually and carefully.

Ford did, Ford knew. I could tell he was confused, but I had no way of telling him that, hopefully, he would be busting out of here by the time Elijah got around to killing me. Soren or Peter or someone would talk reason into him and make him take those pills. No telling whether they would work for sure, but I had to give him the chance to try.

“Esme,” this time, it was Ford who was snapping at me. Not really a bite, more filled with shock and confusion. I was only able to look at him for a second, but that was all it took to read his expression. Full-scale betrayal.

The horrible thing was, I understood it. I would probably have reacted the same if he was asking me to try and go on without him. But he was too close to the issue right now. He was too enthralled by the Bond to remember he had other things to live for.

The Bond, on my end, sensed what I was about to do and began screaming at me—loud, clanking sounds of disgust.

“Ford,” I said, with a tone of dismissal I hadn’t used on him in a long, long time. “I told you I don’t want to go through that again. And, sorry, but we’re kind of at a crossroads here. You’ll be fine.”

Elijah scoffed, thinking he would have Ford tied up until he withered away into nothing.

Ford blinked, trying and failing to make sense of me.

He knew as well as I did that our—his—rescue was hopefully imminent. It was my acceptance of the situation he didn’t understand. I needed to make that clearer.

I could taste blood in my mouth. “It’s just the Bond.” The emphasis I put on just made me nauseous.

“Just,” Ford repeated, not more than a whisper. He probably didn’t even mean to say it out loud.

No, no, you know that’s not true, the Bond begged and pleaded, sensing how badly I was hurting and how much I knew I was hurting Ford.

“Huh,” this, from Elijah. “You had me fooled. I thought I was witnessing some grand love story.”

Swallowing glass would have hurt less than the scoff I forced out of my throat. “The Bond turns you into an animal. The only things it knows how to do are fuck and fight.”

Ford’s stare was like a magnet, pulling me toward him with an elemental force. One I could barely resist.

Maybe it was my growing hysteria, knowing deep down that I was only a handful of minutes away from death, but I couldn’t help but think that this was what all those early years of pain had been for.

To give me the skills to resist the Bond when it was at its most crazed. So that I might see the trickle of relief that edged into Elijah’s expression.

It was chased away with a cruel smile as he crouched in front of me, tapping my knee with the flat side of his knife. “Let’s test that theory, huh? I want to see how much fight Ford has in him.”

Why? the Bond cried, desperate and confused.

I looked down, making sure that the searing pain in my chest was internal. I was sure there would be external pain there soon.

That was good. Maybe I wouldn’t feel it as much. I was already numb.

“Esme.”

For all my practice, I didn’t think I’d ever be strong enough to resist Ford when he said my name like that.

The sheer confusion on his face ripped a sob out of me before I could catch it.

His eyebrows were creased together, his eyes filled with anguish.

“Ford,” I said, trying to sound chastising and ending up sounding…just…scared.