Page 29 of Gift from the Nexus

“Let’s go,” Donald commands, turning on his heel and stomping away.

Wearing a stupid, giddy smirk on his face, Bryce immediately follows behind him like a good little lap vampire, and Maxforcefully slings me right into Trex’s chest, growling as he makes his way down the hall behind them.

With what little strength I have and what feels like one hundred pounds weighing my hands down, I shove myself away from him and lean against the wall to calm my heavy breathing. I’m on the verge of snapping. I’m suffering a tidal wave of panic and everything that lives within me is pushing with all their might against their restraints.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I snap when Trex gently grips my arm.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Cut the shit,” I growl, interrupting his softly spoken words. “I’m over your wishy-washy persona. One second, you don’t want to be grouped in with them. The next, you act just like them. At least with those three I know what I’m getting, I know what to expect, but with you, I can’t tell if this is a fucking game to you. So just don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t even look at me.”

With panting breaths, I turn and start making my way down the hall. I have no other choice, and I mean my words, I don’t want him to do anything around or to me. I hate that I can’t shake this feeling about him. This stupid-ass inkling his omission brought forth makes me believe that much like myself, he’s a victim of his circumstance. The glaring difference between us, though, is he’s obviously only thinking of himself.

So boxing him with the rest because of his actions, I use the wall for support and continue my pathetic hobble. With each step, I barely contain a groan of pain, but I also feel my legs strengthening, the tense muscles loosening up enough to provide a bit more balance.

That’s until we pass the room I was tortured in and come to stand in front of the first room I was held in. You either go through that threshold or right in front of it up the dreadedstairs that I forgot all about. I was carried down that never-ending flight because of the drug, and now I’m going to have to limp my way up.

Trudging up the first set feels like an enormous victory, then I look over the side and up and see four more to go. As much as it pains me to continue pushing on, I use this as an opportunity to fall deep into my head and observe the cuffs with unfiltered keenness.

I stare at the small hole in my palm and a piece of my mangled wrist, mortified for a moment before blocking the sight out with the cuff, turning them over every which way, trying to find a way to escape them.

“They aren’t the same as the others.”

“Who’s not the same as the others?”

I snap when he scares me out of my concentration.

“Not who. The cuffs. The other set is secured to the table straps. Those won’t burn like the others. They just block your magic,” he says, gripping one of the cuffs in his hand.

“So the nearly burning my hands off is just for my torture sessions.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck after slowly releasing the cuff.

Just to test his theory, I call forth my air element. Cautiously, I try to send out a small breeze. Nothing that would call attention to him, but just enough to see if something happens. Obviously, if they burn me, he’ll know, and I’ll know he’s most certainly a liar.

As my air sluggishly makes its way from my chest through my arms, hope rises in me quickly when I don’t feel the sensation of my skin being seared off, but that hope drains the moment my air reaches the cuffs, and it’s halted immediately. I bite my tongue to force away the frustrated tears that are burning my eyes and clench my fist tightly.

“What’s going to happen when we get up here?” I ask quietly, trying to see how much time I have to figure this out.

“We’ll assemble outside first. The baggage will be transported, then Gish and his Nexus will return to escort us.”

“Why do we need an escort rather than just go with the hostages?” I ask, clipped.

I refuse to call them baggage. They’re people, for fuck’s sake.

“Because of you. You’re MVP. That requires extra security and fewer bodies to worry about.”

“I highly doubt Franklin, Donald, or any of you see me as a most valuable person. Especially not enough that I need extra security.”

“Possession. Not person,” he states quite literally.

I grit my teeth so hard I’m surprised my molar doesn’t crack. Not a person, a possession. Those three words out of his mouth make me sick to my stomach. He said them so factually, it’s like he’s read a file on me over and over and that’s what they labeled me, nothing more than a thing to be owned.

There’s nothing to say back to that. If I can’t get my shit together, and quick, that’s exactly what I’ll become.

What’s the point of having so many damn Elementra-blessed gifts, elements, plus magic if I can’t use them in a time of need?

“I’ve told you. Think, Willow.”

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