Page 69 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

Shit, not now.

Tears gather in my eyes, sheer frustration and adrenaline clashing together as I struggle and fight, my eyes widening as that needle moves closer to my skin.

“Stop,” I scream. “No!”

They ignore me.

The drifter sticks that needle into my arm, hitting the plunger?—

I scream.

Loud and raw and terrified.

My body seizes, all of my muscles tensing as pure searingfirebursts through me.

My heart stops, then takes off again at a dangerously fast pace. I gasp for air, choking on it as I try and get a full breath. Try to think around the pain as the poisonous silver slips into my bloodstream, making me go entirely limp.

I desperately try to reach my magic, try to dig into the well of power I know is sitting there, but it's underneath so much weight of silver I can't even brush it with my mental fingers.

Fuck. Rage slices my insides, but my scream dies with the lack of control of my body. I can barely breathe as the poison takes hold.

My muscles go limp as I slump in the chains, my bound wrists holding me aloft as my head hangs forward and lulls to the side. A flash of gold on the inside of my arm catches my eye.

What the fuck is happening? Tell me where you are! I can feel you! Tell me!

It takes an enormous amount of strength to look at my captors, relief flowing through me that they're not looking at my arm.

They’re arguing in a huddle right next to me.

“Doesn't fucking them make them stronger?” one of Balan’s men ask.

“She’s pumped full of silver and tied up in silver chains. How much stronger could she possibly get?” another one says.

I'm going to vomit.

I'm going to throw up right here.

I hope they slip in it and break their necks.

I try to write back to Six, desperate enough to tell him where I am. He won’t be able to get to me quick enough, but maybe he’ll find my body and burn me as a mercy.

I can't get to him. I’m not even sure how he’s able to reach me with how weak I am. He must be strong?—

“Do we take turns?” another one of his men ask.

“Will she be as valuable to the Collector if we turn her in all fucked up like this?” a third asks, pointing to me.

My tongue slides over my split lips. My cheeks feel swollen, there definitely seems to be a broken rib on my right side.

“We’ll tell him Zev and Jagger did it,” Balan reiterates. “As long as she's breathing he won’t give a shit. He’ll have his Treasure heal her if he wants. He's going to throw her in a cage anyway and only take her out when he wants to play with her.”

Fuck me,theseare the drifters I've heard stories about. The ones who treat their bounties no better than insects waiting to be crushed.

They don't care that I’m a living, breathing being. They don't fuckingcare.

Tears trickle down my cheeks, angry and regretful. I shouldn't have taken Jagger and Zev’s kindness for granted. Shouldn't have toyed with Zev so much. I should’ve gone with them to check the snares. At least then I would’ve ended up where I need to be.

My heart stutters, alternating between fast, erratic paces to slow, heavy thuds. “You're all idiots,” I manage to force out the words, still unable to move my limbs. “I'll be dead before you can collect the gold on my bounty.”

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