I sobbed and clawed.
I couldn’t take this anymore.
I couldn’t stand by and watch anymore.
I couldn’t be the reason why Henrisufferedanymore.
I-I can’t do this!
“Ily…” Peter dared to speak from his position on the other side of the stage. “Don’t.”
Don’t what?
Fight?
Try to save him?
Tomorrow was Christmas, and it was too late.
Henri’s bandages had soaked with blood.
His collarbones were stark.
His body was failing.
He couldn’t take much more.
None of us could.
So if we didn’t fight now…then when?
Tomorrow on Christmas?
The day after on Boxing Day?
What if we didn’t make it to those days?
What if all the plans Faiza believed were in place were a mere fantasy?
What if tonight destroyed the final pieces of Henri, and he broke?
What if Victor raped him like in my nightmares—
Oh God.
Sickness splashed on my tongue.
Fear pushed me over the edge. “Let him go! Let him go! LET HIM GO!”
Victor’s eyes snapped to mine. “I was wondering when you’d break my rules, Ilyana.” With a sly smirk, he snapped his fingers at a guard. “Kindly give Peter ten lashes for Ilyana’s outburst.”
“No, don’t!”
“Make it twenty.”
I bit my bottom lip so hard I drew blood.
I shot Peter a horrified look.