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24
SINDRI
Damn, I should have seen it coming.
That’s what I keep thinking even though it’s admittedly hard to think with a mind that isn’t your own most of the time. Caught in Ophelia’s enchantment, I missed the moment when the net closed around Mia, too.
Our last hope is gone. I can’t fucking believe it. I grunt when the guards haul us away from the lake, toward the administration building, the cuts on my back and chest burning, bleeding on my newly changed shirt.
We had been so hopeful when we got out of Ophelia’s room. Together, our minds finally clear, we thought we’d find her and that she’d know what to do. We’d embrace, dammit, because it’s what you do with people you love, and we’d make a killer plan to take Ophelia down.
And it had been going fine until I realized how off-track we were. Ophelia struck us right in our heart.
Took Mia from us, brought her over to her side. Sent her to take us down.
Check-mate.
I’d feel respect if I wasn’t so damn angry.
So damn scared.
The moon will be full in two days and we’re back to square one. Well, not true: we’re almost at the end, but we might as well have sat idle through it all, as we have nothing to show for it.
I’m still cursing under my breath as we’re thrown into the file room like sacks of potatoes, one after the other until we’re all four of us sprawled on our backs, groaning, and the door clanks shut.
A key turns in the heavy-duty lock.
Abesh.
“Jax, you okay?” I grind out, grabbing a chair to haul myself up, hissing at the burn of reopened cuts.
He growls something unintelligible, not moving. His lashes flutter.
“Help me get him up,” I say and reach for him, glad to find Emrys by my side. Jason got a rock hit to the head, and though he’s got a thick skull, I’m worried about the bastard.
“Fuck off,” Jason breathes as we wrangle him to his feet and then into the chair. He shoves our hands off him.
I step back, hoping he’s not confusing us with old memories. “Jax. You okay?”
He wipes at the trickle of blood running from a cut in his eyebrow. Licks more blood off his lips. “Fuck,” he says.
I couldn’t have put it better.
“She’s under Ophelia’s spell, isn’t she?” He shifts a little, grimacing. “Mia.”
“Yeah. Looks like it,” Emrys says. “It’s that or she decided she hates us again.”
“Mia doesn’t hate us,” I whisper. “I can’t believe that.”
“Ash,” Emrys says, his voice changing, and I turn, worry steadily building in my gut. “Man, you all right?”
He’s sitting on the floor, arms looped around his knees, his forehead resting on them. So still.
Before I go down on my knees—and abesh, the wounds on my torso especially are killing me—Emrys is beside Ashton, an arm over the vampire boy’s shoulders. “Ash. Come on, get up. We’ll be all right.”
“I can’t. I fucking can’t, Rys,” he says, muffled against his arms. “Can’t fail them again, dammit.”
“Come on, hombre, on your feet.”
