Page 19 of The Bonds of Indigo

“You have to consume her blood to⁠—”

“No.” Butcher cuts off the warden. “Her drawing it is enough for me. I won’t put that filth inside me.”

The two officers snicker.

I don’t react. Being called filth is the least degrading thing I’ve been called in my life.

They grab my cuffs and yank me out of the chair. My arms fold at an awkward angle and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning in pain.

We move in a wobbly shuffle; this is the first time I’ve walked but a few feet in who knows how long. As we step outside of my cell, the wards drop and my senses fight for dominance. Salty air, body sweat, the hum of the kitchen. It hits me so hard I nearly break. For so long all I smelled was the bodies brought into my cell and the iron of my own blood.

“You’re going through a lot of trouble for this,” Anders says dryly.

My wrists go taut and I’m forced to stop. “One moment,” Jozier says.

“The reasoning is worth the inconvenience.”

Fingers comb up my neck and goosebumps rise along my arms. He gathers my hair and yanks it back into a messy knot. Jozier’s hot breath ghosts my neck. “Can’t have you getting it dirty—it’s such a struggle to keep clean as it is.”

Well, that’s your problem.

“What’s a Witch’s name going to do for you?” Sook asks as Jozier wrestles my hair into a lop-sided bun. The weight of it has me sighing. I wish they’d cut it—though there are a lot of things I wish for these days.

Hair cutting is very near the bottom of the list.

“There we go,” he whispers, hands resting on my shoulders. I hear the smile in his voice. “Be good, and I won’t have to hit you again.”

“None of your business.” Butcher’s tone just gets more and more clipped as time progresses.

These men have nothing better to do. Of course they’re going to be in your business, Vamp. What did you expect?

We keep walking. I don’t pay attention to where we’re going or how many turns we take. I’ve never tried to escape, and I don’t plan to. Maybe that makes me weak, but I choose to see it as smart. I know I’m meant to be here, and as crazy as it sounds, I’m probably safest here.

Regardless of the things they do to me.

I could be in a place so much worse than this…

Before I know it, we’ve stopped. The chatter around me has blended into nothing, ignored because none of it was for me. You’d think someone who’s spent years in near-solitary would want to hear voices again. But no. I like it quiet.

“Two minutes, starting now,” the warden says, voice full of distaste.

The first touch of sea breeze hits me and I almost don’t believe it’s real. A soft sound slips from my throat, half-whimper, half-breath. When they give me the space to move, I step through the doorway.

My bare feet find cold metal flooring, the small holes biting into my skin. I can’t tell how large this area is, but I walk anyway. There are no footsteps behind me, though my arms are still bound. They won’t let me get far; I can’t imagine the chain attached is too lengthy.

The cool wisp of air makes me gasp. Its salty whisper against my skin is so foreign after what feels like forever of stagnant air.

I draw in a deep breath, filling my lungs with freedom. A sensation I thought I’d never taste again until the world turned to ash, me along with it. The air feels pure, alive. For a fleeting moment, I’m part of it again.

“Hey—” It’s that Butcher guy.

Sudden footsteps pound the metal behind me, and before I can turn, a sharp tug yanks me backward. I plant my foot to steady myself.

“I still fucking need her,” he snaps.

Jozier laughs, joined by Anders. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I pull away, creating what little space I can.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open and look outward. Cliffs rise to my left in the distance; everywhere else, endless open water. The sky burns in streaks of orange and pink as the sun bleeds out its last light across Vendra’s world.