Page 72 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

"You can't risk your life on that hope, Ophelia."

"It's fine. Worst case scenario, I die, and you get to pick a new mate."

He snarled at me again.

That wasn't how the magic worked. We both knew it, but I wasn't about to say it.

The elevator arrived, and I dragged my wagon inside.

I should've splurged for the fancier one, because that thing was a fucking menace.

My heartbeat picked up as the elevator lowered.

My time in the prison could've been much, much worse, but that didn't make me want to go back in. Particularly not alone. I knew Dante was the only reason my experience hadn't been completely hellish.

There was a sensation like my ears needed to be popped, but nothing happened when I tried.

Logically, I knew why, but I hadn't been entirely prepared to feel it.

"What is that feeling?" Dante roared at me, sounding more distant, and more furious, than he ever had before.

"The mate bond. The penitentiary's magic isolates the prisoners from their loved ones. It can't erase the bond, but it makes it quieter. Now, get out of my head so I don't screw anything up more than I already have."

"We're going to have a long fucking conversation when you get back."

I'd be way too wrecked for that conversation to happen right after I got out of the prison, but he didn't need to know it yet.

The elevator stopped on the bottom floor, and I attempted yet again to push Dante out of my mind completely. Not just his voice, but the man himself.

It didn't work, and I didn't have time to think about it anymore.

The elevator stayed open as I stepped out. I fought with the wagon just enough to get it outside the metal box before I dropped the handle. The doors shut behind me.

The issue with the innocent prisoners being thrown in was a snag in the elevator's magic. I'd fix that from the surface. After I made it out with the innocent people.

First, I needed to check on the existing magic. I hadn't been able to look at the details of it while I was acting like a prisoner myself. Doing so would've alerted anyone powerful that something was going on. They would've felt it respond to me.

Dark threads of power burst from my fingertips, lighting up the magic woven through the walls and ceiling. My wings forced their way out as my power swelled and responded to me.

My eyes widened in horror when I saw the framework I'd built.

Or what was left of it.

Angelic magic had some amount of life to it. It grew, changed, and adapted slightly after it had been set up.

That wasn't what had happened.

My complex weave had been gnarled. Torn. Shredded in some spots. The magic had adapted by thickening in other spots, the power migrating to wherever it could. It had adapted to keep up with what I'd intended it to do, but it was barely hanging on.

Someone had been attacking it. Trying to destroy it. Potentially, for a long fucking time.

My heart sank as I walked down the hallway, looking closer at the damage that had been done.

The map I'd made was pointless.

There was no way to fix the magic. Not even maybe. Not with how much it had been altered. I didn't have the mass amount of power it would take to restore the original magic, let alone make the intricate changes I'd planned on top of it.

I was going to have to unravel the whole penitentiary's magic. It was going to take a long fucking time, it was going to hurt like hell, and I was going to have to find somewhere else to put the prisoners while I did it, too.