Straight into my stomach.
The breath punched out of me all at once. White-hot pain bloomed behind my ribs as I folded forward, choking, gasping.
The ground tilted and my vision spun as hands closed around me again, rough and fast, dragging me through the dirt.
Smoke wrapped around me, thick and choking, curling into my mouth every time I tried to breathe. The fire crackled just a few steps away, and one of the men was feeding it. He poured alcohol onto the embers, stirred them with a stick, a flames roared back to life.
I clawed at the ground, my fingers digging deep, searching for anything solid.
I didn’t stop.
I fought. Gods, I fought. I kicked, twisted, threw my whole weight back, but it wasn’t enough. The man kept dragging me closer. The fire was right there, and I could feel it tingling under my skin like something waiting to wake.
I should’ve been able to burn him.
I was a monster. I had fire in my veins. I should’ve been able to turn him to ash.
But I wasn’t burning.
I was drowning.
“Tell us where the gold is, sweetheart,” another man mocked.
Across the fire, I saw Will. He was trying to lift his head. Blood streaked his hair and is face was pale, smeared with red.
Then his eyes found mine.
“Kera!” he cried, voice raw. “Please—don’t hurt her! We’ll give you the gold!”
The man dragging me laughed.
Shoved me closer to the flames.
Heat licked my skin.
“Where is it?” he growled, squeezing my wrist so tight I swore something popped. I bit down the scream. Swallowed it. Choked on it.
I wouldn’t cry.
Not in front of him.
But my body shook, my lungs wouldn’t work and my thoughts spun and slipped and shattered. It was all fire and hands and smoke and pain. And somewhere behind it, I felt myself slipping. Slipping pack into the place I swore I’d never go again.
I saw Will digging through his pack, then Aran’s. His fingers trembling so badly he couldn’t untie the straps. He was going to give it to them. Every coin we had. Every chance we had to eat, to hide, to survive.
Gone.
A crack split the air and Aran cried out. A sharp, broken sound, as a boot slammed into his ribs. He folded over, wheezing. Another kick. Harder. I watched his body lift from the blow and collapse.
“Hurry up,” my captor muttered, voice flat with boredom. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t brace. The knife touched my cheek, light and slow, like he was savoring it.
“Or I’ll start skinning her,” he bellowed. “Maybe I’ll start with her face.”
I heard him. Somewhere inside, I understood every word. But I couldn’t react. I was stuck in that place where nothing felt real, and my body wasn’t mine. My thoughts came soft and far away, like they hadto swim through a coursing river to reach me. Everything was flickering. Bending. Too bright and too dark all at once.
The blade pressed again. Cold. Sharp. Real.
Then warmth.
