Page 141 of A Sweet Destruction

But I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I died the moment Elijah slid that knife across Esme’s throat.

I’d dissolved into nothing more than a sack of skin and bones with the sole purpose of saving her. Realizing I’d failed was the final moment of my life.

There was nothing after that, not for me.

Not even able to understand what she was saying to me. Scoffing at the Bond and everything that had happened between us. Reducing what we were to each other down to a physical compulsion.

There would be time to unpack how I could have been so wrong—hell, if I even believed her—later.

Right now, Esme was still very much dying.

Everything had happened so fast. The last thing I consciously remembered seeing was blood spring from Esme’s throat. I’d thought I died in that very moment.

Then, somehow, I was standing and had two very useful stakes of wood attached to my hands. It was a very, very good thing that my mind was somehow still functioning, because the Bond was out for blood.

I damn near stabbed Soren with one of those stakes when he got a little too close, only realizing it was him because of the shock of white blonde hair on his head.

What I really, really wanted was to run after Elijah. Esme hadn’t been able to see it, her back turned to the larger room, but our little dungeon was only part of a bigger system.

There were at least two hallways branching off, some underground bunker that could go on for miles for all I knew.

Thank fucking God for Peter and those trackers or else Esme would have…

She still might! The Bond shouted, deeply displeased.

Right.

Everything started to move very fast again. Soren was barking orders at people and Bellamy was barking orders back at him.

Freya was standing off to the side…on guard or something?

I couldn’t focus on that right now, not with my hand around Esme’s throat and her blood seeping in between my fingers.

Her eyes were closed, body limp. I was clearly bordering on hysterical, because the only thing I could think was that she looked quite beautiful. I’d only had a few moments of seeing her truly at peace, most of them in a secret, unguarded moment between the two of us.

“Ford!” someone yelled at me, making me snap my head up with a growl.

Soren already had his hands up in surrender. “We need to go out the way we came.”

I looked up to the thin windows at the top of the room. “I need to carry Esme.”

“I know you do,” Soren said, and I was glad at least someone understood what I was feeling right now. Like my skin was on fire and my insides were melting.

He handed me a strip of something, ordering me to wrap it around her neck after I’d already started doing it. I could hear myself whispering to Esme, telling her what I was doing, that it would be okay, that I was going to get her out of this.

Later, I would have to confront whether this was all useless, whether it would make me seem like I’d already fallen headlong into insanity after losing my Soul Mate. But for now, I was choosing to believe she was going to be okay.

It was of no consequence that I couldn’t bring myself to check her pulse yet.

I wouldn’t be able to leave her and then we’d all be stuck here.

“You go first,” I all but yelled at Soren, remembering that this whole thing had originated with an assassination plot against him and Bellamy.

Soren looked like he was going to argue with me, then dropped it at something he saw on my face. He grabbed Bellamy and launched up the ropes still hanging from the broken windows, disappearing into the sunlight with her a second later.

“I’ll go last,” Freya said, her voice echoing in my ears. She was still staring down the hallway. Helpful, really, but with a stillness I’d never seen from her.

Shifting Esme over my shoulder as gently as possible, I began the climb up the wall. Slower than I would like, having to switch hands with each pull up to keep the other secured to her.