Perhaps she knew something I didn’t allow myself to explore—that there’s agoodnessin Rhordyn she trusted. That if he received the message and understood her meaning, he would have helped these broken people.
He would have helped.
That wound inside my chest throbs so hard and deep my hand flies up, fingers gouging at my breast as I marinate in the pool of guilt shoving down my throat.
Choking me.
As I battle the urge to use what little luster I have to forge a dome and corral the thorny guilt up against my sides—because Iwantto feel this.Deserveto feel this.
My.
Fucking.
Fault.
I look at the broken boy again …
My penance.
Determination uncoils inside me like a serpent, unhinged maw set to strike, fierce fangs leaking beads of opal venom. Swatting a tear from my cheek, I continue down the curling hallway. Continue looking left and right, running out of fingers to count, punishing myself with the ghoulish sight of withering bodies and festering wounds.
I will not leave these people here to rot.
Iwillfree them. Get them off this island.
Buthow?
I’ll need a boat far bigger than the one I came in. Less shitty.
I need help …lots of help.
The hallway straightens, and filtered light illuminates a domed cavern ahead, akin to the one in the abandoned burrow butbigger.
I gasp at the sight of a monstrous man lumped in the center, wearing only a pair of tattered pants. His high, bladed cheekbones, heavy brows, matted hair, and thick scruff do nothing to distract from the cruel cut of his jaw. Deep, slumbering breaths wrestle out of his parted mouth, exposing the honed tips of his long canines …
Unseelie.
My knees give way, assaulting the cold stone floor.
A beam of moonlight pours upon pockets of bulging muscle, igniting glassy veins that fork across a portion of his brassy back like lightning strikes.Dull metal cuffs bind his wrists, each tethered to chains so thick it’s a wonder he can move at all, the flesh around them folded back like sleeves of skin that healed then tore, healed then tore, leaving a bloody mess that tells a tale of his entrapment.
Hispain.
His massive arm is draped over a slight male with tawny, lackluster hair and wide, unseeing eyes pointed toward that hole in the ceiling. Like the last thing he sought was the faraway sky.
My mind whirs so fast I’m certain the room’s tipping …
What the hell is this?
A shuffling sound whispers at me from behind, and I spin.
Small, pale hands cling to the bars of the end cell, and I look past the metal, seeing a nest of rosy curls, a dainty face, and big, auburn eyes staring at me, shaded with too much hurt for one so young.
My stomach churns.
The child blinks, and tears slip down her soiled cheeks as she releases a heaving sob that cracks the silence.
Making calm shushing sounds, I crawl forward. “It’s okay,” I whisper, softening my features with a smile I pray she can’t see through.
