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My brain seems to be stuck on a loop. I keep hearing his broken, hoarse voice say “slit your throat” over and over. I yank on my bonds, knowing I’m not going anywhere, but my limbs are aching to take flight.
“How long have I been like this?”
“Three days,” he croaks, raking a hand down his cheek.
Shock makes my body go numb, my mind blank. And then the tears come—great racking sobs ripping through my chest.
She has held me hostage for three fucking days—invaded my mind, my body. Who knows how long she’s been squatting in my brain?
The bitch tortured my husband. Again.
Now I’m helpless—chained. A monster has taken me over.
“I really want to hug you, Gorgeous. But the last time I did, she bit me in the neck and tore a sizable chunk out before Evan stopped her.”
It takes several minutes for the tears to stop, and even longer for the shaking breaths to cease. In that time, I steel myself, shutting off my emotions, shutting my heart down.
Turning myself to stone.
My voice is still hoarse, but my words are steady.
“You need to find someone to remove the binding,” I order with a resigned nod. “Remove it, and leave me here. A better plan would be to kill me, but I won’t ask that of you. You need to get as far away from me as you can—as fast as you can. She will never stop. She’ll keep hunting you.”
It doesn’t matter if I’m dead. Iva will hunt him to the ends of the earth, chasing him until she’s had her bloodthirsty fill.
His face mottles red before he starts yelling, “I’m not giving up on you. We are in this together. I’m not going to let you quit now.”
But I’m exhausted—mentally and physically. I don’t know if I can go on much longer.
He continues to tell me other things—things I can’t understand—because the longer he talks, the more his voice starts to garble. I take one last look at him, knowing this may be the last time I get to see his beautiful face.
Knowing that at any second, Iva could take over.
Knowing I could lose hold of myself at any moment.
A forever without Lucien seemed so long, but I know now that the ache of losing Rhys will haunt me even into the next life.
Losing Rhys will haunt me for eternity.
RHYS
I’m still shouting at my unconscious wife when West busts in the room, kicking in the door with his massive boot. The door has practically split in two, and if Aurelia wakes up, she’s going to rip him a new one.
When. Not if. Never if.
I rack my brain for any solution that makes sense. We’ve exhausted all my witch contacts. None of them can protect her. All these years when I was exhausting my favor from the king— making sure she was safe and hidden—she was hiding herself.
Somehow, we have to get her Aegis back. She must be able to use her power to protect herself—there’s just no other way.
“We’ve got a huge fucking problem,” West growls, adjusting his grip on the katana in his hand.
He looks like John Rambo and Paul Bunyan had a tattooed baby. Two bandoliers crisscross his red flannel shirt like a gunslinger, a backup katana peeks over his shoulder, and a gun rests at both hips.
I notice all this, but it’s in the periphery, the world around me scratching at my brain. All I can think of is the last words Aurelia said to me before she passed out.
She’s right. Iva won’t stop.
But neither will I.
