Page 103 of No One’s Daughter

​He fought hard.

Still trying to get to me.

“Ailsa!” he shouted, his voice raw, desperate.

​Another hit landed, this one snapping his head to the side with a sickening force, and my stomach dropped. Despite everything that had happened, the thought of him fighting to get to me, of him in pain… it stirred something deep within me.

​I did care for him. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want to.

​I did. And now he was being taken from me.

​They dragged him further back, separating us with brutal efficiency, hauling him toward a different vehicle entirely.

​“No—” I tried to move, but a hand tightened painfully on my arm, yanking me in the opposite direction.

​“Ailsa!” he roared again.

​Then a sharp grunt of pain.

​And then he was gone.

​They shoved me into the back of a vehicle, Marlette forced in beside me moments later, her shoulders shaking as she cried, her head bowed.

​I stared at her and something cold settled in my chest.

​“How could you?” I spat at her. Any respect I’d had for her disappeared in an instant. “He trusted you.”

​She didn’t look at me.

​Just kept shaking her head, over and over, like she could somehow undo it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, broken. “I’m so, so sorry—”

​“Yeah?” I snapped. “Well that really fucking helps, doesn’t it?”

​She flinched.

​Sorry didn’t fix this.

​Sorry didn’t change anything.

​Sorry wouldn’t save us.

The anger simmered, building, twisting into something sharp. Why did everyone always have to fucking disappoint me?

​I was so angry at her, at him, at this new guy, at all of them. Then it dawned on me and my stomach dropped. “Did you hand my sister over too?”

​Her head snapped up, eyes wide with genuine fear. “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “No, I swear it.”

​I held her gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of a lie.

​“Just me and Davien then,” I muttered, leaning back against the cold interior of the vehicle, bitterness settling heavy on my tongue. “Great.”

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Davien

MY MIND WAS reeling with all the possibilities of what they were going to do to Ailsa. I was tied to a metal chair that was anchored to the floor. Nothing but concrete walls surrounded me. A prison of grey. I was all too familiar with the interrogation rooms in the bowls of the Ninth, only I was usually the one doing the interrogating. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed because they’d used a tranquiliser to put me down, but I was certain it couldn’t have been too long.

​I couldn’t hear what was going on beyond this room—the chambers were intentionally soundproofed and air controlled—but I had no doubt they had Ailsa in a similar room, likely restrained as I was. The only saving grace was that I hadn’t felt any of her heightened emotions through the bond my oath to her to created which led me to conclude that they hadn’t harmed her, yet at least. My breathing was steady, calm as I prepared myself for what was to come.