Page 114 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“It’s okay.” Her voice sounded far away, even though she was right there. “Just breathe, Becca. It’s going to be okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. My heart hammered in my chest as understanding crashed over me. The tea. The bitter aftertaste. The way my body was shutting down.

“What did you…?” The words came out slurred. Wrong.

“I’m sorry.” There were tears clouding Iris’s eyes now. “I’m so sorry, Becca. But I can’t let you have him.”

Terror flooded my system, sharp and cold. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Axel. I’ve wanted him for years. And then you showed up and he just…Ambrose came to me. Said he could help us both get what we wanted.”

“You…drugged me?!”

“You left me no choice.”

A maelstrom of panic and anger flooded my system. I reached for my magic—that well of power I’d been so careful to preserve. Pulled on it desperately to try and protect myself.

It surged up and out, but it didn’t do what I wanted.

Instead, glass shattered. The windows exploded outward, shards glittering in the dim light of the shop. The door blew open, hinges screaming. Mugs flew off shelves behind the counter. The chalkboard menu crashed to the floor.

Iris screamed, ducking and covering her head.

“Oh, god!” I cried, my words slurred.

And then⁠—

That tearing sensation. Like someone reached into my chest and ripped out my soul. Except this time it didn’t stop. It kept going, kept pulling, dragging every last drop of magic out of me until there was nothing.

Empty.

The panic doubled. I tried to scream but my throat wouldn’t work. Tried to move but my body was deadweight.

Darkness closed in, my vision blackening.

And then my legs gave out and…nothing.

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My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, thoughts sluggish and disjointed. Everything hurt—my wrists, my chest, my throat. I blinked, trying to focus. Darkness surrounded me. No, not complete darkness. Moving darkness. Trees rushed past in a blur of shadows. Wind whipped my hair around my face, my skin stinging with cold.

Where—? What⁠—?!

“Iris!” The word tore from my throat as my memory came crashing back. Meeting Iris at The Roost. Her betrayal. The tea.

I blinked, taking in my surroundings anew.

I was moving. In a vehicle. The engine rumbled beneath me, the ride rough and jarring as my neck lolled and my head jerked. I tightened my muscles to keep it steady.

“Ah, you’re awake.” My stomach pitched at the sound of the familiar voice and a dry heave worked its way up my throat. “Good. I was beginning to worry I’d miscalculated the dosage.”

Ambrose.

I whimpered and tried to move my hands but they wouldn’t budge. Zip ties cut into my wrists. I was secured to something—the seat? Yes, that was it. I was strapped into a harness, the belt tight across my chest. My legs felt like lead.

“What did you—where’s Iris?” The words came out slurred. Wrong.

“Oh, don’t worry about her.” Ambrose’s voice was light. Casual. Like we were having a pleasant chat. “She’s fine. Well, she’s a bit shocked and horrified by what she’s done, I imagine. But fine.”