Page 94 of Shadowed Fate

"Brigid," Callen warns softly. Is he telling me to go quietly or prepare to fight?

My eyes dart between Callen and the guards, searching for an escape.

"Last chance," the shorter guard growls. "Come willingly or we'll drag you."

If I resist, I prove I'm dangerous. If I go, I might never come back.

Callen's lips part as if to speak, but no words come.

"Fine," I whisper. "I'll go."

I see Callen steps closer. "I'll find the others," he murmurs, lips barely moving. "We'll sort this out."

Hope flickers in my chest, then extinguishes as he turns away. The guards seize my arms, fingers digging into my flesh.

I thrash against their grip. My elbow connects with a grunt of pain, but their hold only tightens.

"Settle down," the taller one hisses, twisting my arm behind my back.

Pain lances through my shoulder. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to go limp. No point fighting now. Save my strength.

They march me forward, boots in unison. We descend deeper into Grimstone's lower levels, the air growing colder with each step. Musty dampness hits my nose.

What did I do? Who ordered this?

We turn down yet another corridor, torchlight casting grotesque shadows. I try to remember how far down we’ve gone already.

An icy fear takes hold. Will Callen really find the others in time? Will they even know where to look for me?

The shadows seem to whisper, urging me to call on their power.

"Where are you taking me?" I demand, voice steadier than I feel.

Silence. The guards' faces remain impassive masks.

I stumble on the uneven floor, jarring my shoulders.

The shorter guard's lip curls. "You'll see soon enough."

The air down here is stagnant and dank.

The guards yank me to a stop in front of what can only be a jail cell. The moment the heavy iron door groans open, its rusty hinges protesting with a screech that reverberates in the stale air, nausea rises and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

The oppressive cell takes shape before me like a gaping maw, swallowing any hint of light that dares to venture inside.

My heart sinks. “You can't be serious.” It looks like something out of the dark ages.

They shove me inside; the door slamming shut with a deafening clang that reverberates through my bones, sealing me in this grim chamber. The sound hangs heavy in the still air.

The walls tower around me, and a solitary torch flickers erratically, casting moving shadows that mockingly distort reality. I shiver and rub my arms. I didn’t even know Grimstone had a dungeon.

Better question: why does Grimstone have a dungeon? This feels like a dead place. I listen, trying to hear something, anything, but there’s no sound other than my uneven breathing.

Anger flares in me.

How dare they? I helped people during the attack. They can’t think it had anything to do with me? None of this makes sense. Nothing has, not since that night in the woods, back home.

I can feel tears pricking behind my eyes and I blink. No. I refuse to cry. I’ve cried enough. I refuse to be the victim any more.Fuck this.

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