It’s fucking official: The gods really do hate me. I thought it was bad when I learned being Marked meant I was destined for death, but this...
Suns save me, but this might be worse than that.
I’m in a cell. Small, compact, and dark, it feels like my worst nightmares come to life. Iron bars block the only opening. The walls are closing in on me, tighter than our room at the inn. The ceiling is low, and there are more shadows than light.
A wheezing gasp escapes my dry, chapped lips. There is a small cup of water by the bars, and I pick it up with trembling fingers. I’m so thirsty, I don’t think before I drink. The water is lukewarm and strangely gritty, but it slides down my throat, easing my thirst. It’s gone far too soon, though.
I drop the cup, reaching for a bar. My fingers curl around the cool metal, and it’s so fucking real that a wretched sob rips out of me.
Other than my Mark, which seems dimmer than normal, the only source of illumination comes from faint yellowed rays shining through small slices in the rocks above my head.
My lungs constrict as the reality of my situation sets in, and tremors run through me. I have no idea where I am or what I’m doing here.
Then, my attention slides to my wrists.
“What the fuck?” The curse is hoarse and tastes like ash as it slides past my lips.
Two thick bands are clamped around my wrists. A black so dark they seem to absorb what little light there is, they’re heavy and unnatural. I turn my wrists slowly, looking for a latch or other way to remove them, but there doesn’t appear to be one.
The skin above the manacles is red and angry, and scratches cover my arms as if I’ve been itching in my sleep. My only solace is that my captors, whoever they are, didn’t take Amelia’s bracelet.
I don’t know what the cuffs do, but I’m certain it’s bad. Why else would I be in a cell, unceremoniously dumped on the ground? This is awful.
I know I wanted to explore more of this world, but this isnotwhat I meant. I would’ve been happy if I went my entire life without seeing the inside of a cell.
Unfortunately, it appears that will not be happening.
I release the bar slowly, looking over my shoulder and scanning the space behind me. A covered chamber pot sits in one corner, and a ratty blanket that looks like it’s made of more holes than fabric has been thrown in the other.
The only good thing—and I’m using that term liberally—is that I don’t feel off and my clothes don’t seem out of place. The fact that I haven’t been violated is a small relief in this sea of uncertainty.
I shift my weight back onto my knees and grasp the bars with both hands, staring into the darkness.
“Hello?” Each syllable is rough and hoarse. I’m still so fucking thirsty. “Is anyone there?”
My words echo, and there’s no response.
A rope wraps around my middle, squeezing tighter and tighter. I yell into the darkness, but there’s no response.
I only stop when it becomes painfully clear that no one is there. Not even...
“Gabriel?!” My voice is sharp, and I press my face against the bars as if that will amplify my voice. “Where are you?”
Thatthingin my chest constricts my insides painfully.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t move.
I can barely think as panic courses through my veins. It feels like mine, but not. As if it is originating from a place deep within me, but also, it’s bigger than me.
“Gabe!” I scream into the void.
Silence.
I call out his name until the sounds from my throat are nothing but hoarse rasps. My fingers fall from the iron bars, and I sit back with a gasp, resting my head against the rigid stone behind me.
He’s not here. A short while ago, I would’ve been happy if the Hunter left me alone. I would’ve rejoiced at the fact he was gone, and maybe even out of my life.
