Page 151 of Heir of Illusion

Black spots dot my vision as the seconds stretch on. My throat is raw and aching. Surely it will snap, and my windpipe will collapse.

One hundred sixty-seven.

One hundred sixty-eight.

The sound of my rattling gasps fills the room as the collar releases its hold. I suck in as much air as I can, knowing my reprieve will be brief. Thorne rubs my back, whispering encouraging words in my ear. Baylor only allows me ten seconds of air before the cool metal tightens again.

Please.

My mouth forms the word, but no sound comes out.

Stop.Just let it be over.

“Count with me, Angel,” Thorne whispers in my ear.

One. Two. Three. I mouth the words along with him. I want to tell him I will be okay, but I promised myself I wouldn’t lie anymore.

“It will end,” he says, unbound by any such promises. “You will breathe again. I swear, Ivy.”

And he’s right. I do breathe again. Scattered gasps every few minutes are all Baylor allows me to have. Still, I keep counting the seconds between each breath as they expand into an eternity. In the darkness, I begin to understand what Maebyn meant about time having little meaning.

Please, I send another silent plea into the ether.Let it end.

It doesn’t.

It stops shortly after midnight.

I’m counting during a reprieve when, for the first time all night, a full minute passes without the collar starting up again. My heart pounds as I wait for it to happen, but it seems that Baylor is finally taking a break from his attacks.

A cruel smile curls my cracked lips. No matter how terrible I feel, I know Baylor isn’t faring much better. Using the collar, even in small increments, is draining. And with the injury I gave him earlier, he’s probably suffering greatly.

Good.May his pain have no end.

Air passes unrestricted into my lungs, but each breath burns. Still, I drink them down gladly. The dampness on my face is a mixture of both sweat and tears. Every muscle in my body aches, leaving me feeling as though I’ve been trampled by several horses. Still, I force myself to roll over and face Thorne.

His head rests on the pillow next to mine, but the lines of his face are pulled tight with strain. His entire body is rigid, as if he’s currently exercising every ounce of his restraint to stop himself from flying back to the Palace and ripping Baylor apart.

“It’s over.” The strangled whisper is barely audible.

“Shhh,” Thorne brushes my hair out of my face. “Don’t try to speak. Just nod, okay?”

I do as he orders, hating the way the movement pulls at my tender skin.

“Scratch that.” He grimaces at the sight of my pain. “No nodding.” He reaches for the hand that rests between us. “Just squeeze my fingers for yes.”

I do as he asks.

“That’s right, Angel.” He leans forward to kiss my brow. I close my eyes, hating how my heart clenches at the tender action. “Will he start again?”

The fear in his voice makes me want to lie, but I don’t. Instead, I softly squeeze his fingers, making his jaw clench tighter.

“How long? Days?”

My hand doesn’t move, and his face pales.

“Hours?”

I squeeze again.

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