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Mira closed her eyes, trying to think of anything but the terrible fate before her. She thought of Ella. Of her parents. I’m so sorry I failed you.

Perhaps this had always been the inevitable outcome. She was never going to escape Rakkley. She wanted her last image of this world to be something other than his lifeless eyes. They had haunted her for too long.

“We will take her with us.” Rakkley’s deep inhale rattled against the mask. “The extraction process will start then.”

In vain, she focused on her magic, but there was nothing left to access. She kicked against Dawson’s legs, and when that did nothing, she let her entire body go limp so he couldn’t hold her upright. Anything. Anything to escape this nightmare.

He changed tactics and bent her over the desk, slamming her head on the hard wooden surface. One hand secured her tightly by the back of her neck while the other held her wrists. His body weight on hers immobilized her. Mira felt so hopeless, she wished she had followed Corvin’s offer from earlier and just ended it herself.

“She’s more difficult than I imagined,” Rakkley said, cocking his head to the side as if he was appraising meat at the market.

Sorry to make things so inconvenient, she wanted to reply, but she could barely breathe the way Dawson had her pinned against the desk.

Not easing his grip on her, he pulled her up and pushed her against the wall next to the Primemage’s potion cabinet. The texture of the wall scraped against her skin as she watched his fingers rummaging through the different vials. The same fingers that had brushed through her hair, healed her wounds. Now he was inflicting new ones that would never heal.

“There,” he proclaimed when he found the one he wanted. Still holding her wrists behind her back with one hand, he used his teeth to yank the cork out of the bottle. Then he turned her around, pressing his body against hers and holding her in place. “Drink it.”

Even if she couldn’t read the label, she knew the smell by heart. One of the most commonly used potions in her field, it knocked a patient unconscious.

He brought the vial closer, but she kept her lips sealed. His eyes flinched with frustration.

“It’s for your own good. We both know the extraction process is going to be painful. Be a smart little Caster and drink this before I force you to.”

Her lips opened just enough for him to pour in the liquid, and a voice inside her whispered to drink it. To embrace it. It’s like falling asleep. But she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to live until the bitter end.

“That wasn’t so hard, now, was i—”

She spat the potion in his face, expecting him to be furious, but instead he laughed.

“I always loved that fight in you.” With one hand, he went back to the cabinet. “Let’s just say I’m more than familiar with Corvin’s potion collection.”

He pulled a syringe out of a drawer, knowing exactly where to find it.

“When he put me under enthrallment, he had me consume replenishing potion so he could push my limits.” When the syringe was filled with the potion, he smiled at her. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet for freeing me from it. Take this as my sign of gratitude.” The needle plunged into her neck, right by her pulse point, right where he used to kiss her.

As the coldness of the sedation potion spread through her veins, she held his stare, his eyes so cold they couldn’t belong to the same man she had let into her heart. It was impossible for her to accept that she could have been so wrong about him. But she had known all along. He was her damnation.

Everything around her went blurry except for his face. It was still wet from the potion she had spat at him. A drop of it trailed down his sharp features until it disappeared into the collar of his shirt.

Her hands were tangled in his jacket as her legs gave out, but he had her secure in his arms. White light surrounded him, and she knew it was the last thing she would ever see.

“Dawson…” She wanted to plead with him, but her tongue was getting heavy.

For the first time, there was a glimpse of regret in his eyes. “You won’t feel a thing, Winters.”

Then everything turned dark.

41

When Mira came to, her head pounded and a dripping sound in the distance pierced her skull. Her tongue was heavy, her mouth dry. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, trying to orient herself. She had no recollection of how she got to this place. A cellar of some sort.

The cold stone floor dug into her face. Even the little bit of sunlight trickling through the window seemed too bright. Shackles were tied around her ankles, connected to the wall by chains.

The pain behind her eyes was relentless. Her hand went to her head, but she felt resistance. She couldn’t make sense of the metal contraption on her hand. Tied around her wrist, it stretched over her Shadowflame and connected with three rings on her fingers.

“Magic restraints,” the voice said, and she wanted to ignore it. Ignore it was Dawson speaking to her. The explanation was superfluous. She could feel the suppression from it, weakening her already magic-depleted body. “Not that they’re necessary since you barely know how to use your powers, but better to be on the safe side, I suppose.”

If she looked at him, it would make this nightmare real. Instead, she stared at her hand.