“Beautiful loyalty, you two will give us excellent entertainment.”
The rest of the room falls silent. A silence full of dread. A silence full of the understanding that every choice they give us is designed to break us far deeper than bone.
Jared collapses into Emma’s arms, still twitching from the shock. Emma holds him tightly, pressing her forehead to his, whispering apologies through broken breath. Watching them hurt. Watching how far they will go for each other.
It hits something raw inside me.
Because for all the terror in this room, for all the screaming and shaking and begging, Emma and Jared still choose each other. Again and again. Even when the choices are designed to tear them apart. Their loyalty isn’t just love. It is survival glued together with desperation and hope.
And I can’t stop the thought that Seth would’ve never let them put me here. Seth would’ve burned this entire house down before lettingsomeone put a bag over my face until I couldn’t breathe. Seth wouldn’t kneel helplessly beside me.
He wouldn’t sob while someone else suffered for his sake. He would’ve killed everyone in this circle and every guard outside before they laid a hand on me. And I would’ve done the same for him.
A cold pit settles in my stomach. Because unlike Emma and Jared…Seth isn’t here. Seth is dead.
And I am alone.
Elliot turns next, hands clasped in a mockery of courtesy.
“Miles.”
Miles lifts his head slowly, as if every ounce of strength he has left is draining through his fingertips.
“Please…” he whispers. “Please don’t.”
Elliot crouches down in front of him, voice gentle.
“Would you rather, have three of your fingernails removed…”
Miles’s face twists.
“…or shall we remove three of Brooke’s?”
My heart lurches.
Miles’s haunted eyes meet mine—full of horror, guilt, apology.
I shake my head quickly. Don’t choose me. Please don’t choose me.
He blinks slowly, pain filling the spaces between his breaths.
Then he whispers:
“Me.”
Sophie steps forward with the pliers. Not the tooth-extraction kind, but the flat, heavy ones meant for gripping and tearing. Miles grips the chair arms so tightly his knuckles strain. Sophie grabs his left hand, pins it against the wood, and slides the pliers beneath his first nail.
Miles shuts his eyes.
She rips it up and off in one brutal pull.
Miles chokes, not quite a scream, not quite a cry, the sound of someone whose pain has nowhere to go. Blood wells immediately.
She takes the next finger. Tears the nail away.
Miles jerks hard, a strangled gasp ripping out of him.
Emma turns away, hand over her mouth. Sarah stares at the floor, blinking rapidly. Jared groans weakly from Emma’s lap.
