Page 97 of Heir of the Beast

“Powerful—keep that in mind.” He winks at me.

A man comes running in, clearly out of breath. “My Lord?”

The man sighs in frustration. “Speak.”

“I just received word that Apollo has flatlined, my lord.”

“Fuck!” he yells, and punches the wall so hard it makes a dent.

“No!” I scream. “Apollo’s dead?!”

This is not possible!

Tears fall down my face as I try to keep it together.

“My Lord, he is still alive but in a coma state. It might take months before he wakes if he ever does,” he says with a pinched expression.

The man rubs a hand down his face and turns to him. “Our plan is still the same, and if he ever wakes, it will be a bonus. All we need is his sperm, not his brain.”

I don’t realize I am crying until he has me around the neck, telling me to shut up. I think he slaps me, but I can’t tell.

It feels like my world has just crashed and burned, and it’s all because of me. It was my fault he was bitten.

I feel no pain when I am tossed around like a rag doll.

It’s like voices talking when you’re underwater, tears making my vision seem as though I really am sinking into the dark abyss.

What have I done?

Chapter 21

How long has it been? Three days or four? Surely it has not been five.

I rest my head on the back of the steel wall and feel every bump of the road. My short time being a pampered princess is now over. Seems like Fate really wants me to be a slave.

My hands are tied behind my back and my mouth is gagged because I would not stop yelling at the top of my lungs like a lunatic. I now regret that. I feel like choking on this dirty cloth; God only knows where it’s been.

I am sweaty and exhausted. I glance around my metal jail and curse my bad luck. I can tell we are somewhere tropical. The humidity is like being wrapped in a wet, muggy blanket.

I am numb mentally and have been since I was taken. I feel defeated.

I don’t know what kind of transportation these people have, but apparently, we are not in Kansas anymore. It took three days of air flight to get to this God-forsaken place.

Their technology is quite bizarre—fantastical, actually. But I am in no mood to admire anything, my brain rejecting anything that might make me somewhat happy.

I really do not know what’s keeping me here. The anticipation that Apollo will pull out of his coma?

It’s been four days with little recovery. Apollo’s brain activity is in full decline, according to Ivy’s update at the castle. He will soon be in ~veggie status~.

Mort is out scouting, trying to find out all of the information she can, hatching an escape plan with help from Pierce. Apparently, Laura is in the same state as I am.

Two Galleon princesses are up for auction on the black market. It’s the golden goose, apparently.

Meanwhile, Fairy Godmother Inc. is having a little freakout. Apollo’s sudden fall is not only messing up my dreams, but theirs.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will away the tears. We have three weeks left, and Apollo is in a freaking coma! He might not even remember me if he wakes up.

I stomp my feet and give a muffled moan while trying not to activate my gag reflex. I can’t wait to get back and expose that bitch Irena.

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