Page 79 of Monsters Carve Thrones
At that name, my stomach twisted. Red burned behind my eyes. “What did he promise you?” I rasped. “Money? Protection?”
“Legacy,” she whispered, lips close to my ear. “He’s building something new. Something bigger. He just needs to crush the last of the old world to do it. He took over for Moreau, and now he’ll take everything from you.”
I laughed, even as blood dripped from my chin. “He took Adela. And that was his last mistake.”
Her eyes glinted. “She’ll forget you. One way or another. He’ll break her.”
“No,” I said, leaning forward as much as possible with her still gripping my hair. “She cannot be broken, trust me.I’ve already fucking tried.” The words were a vicious hiss.
She let go with a sharp push. I hit the ground hard. “Let them rot for now,” she called to someone in the shadows. “No food. No water.”
A metal door slammed behind her.
Silence filled the air again, and it was so goddamn heavy.
Then Laura stirred beside me, coughing wetly. “Still wanna try Saint Petersburg pierogis?” she croaked.
I exhaled a broken laugh. “Only if we eat them after burning this place to the ground.”
Nico groaned. “We’re gonna kill her, right?”
“Fucking slowly,” I said. “We just have to figure out how to get out of here.” I leaned my head back against the wall, forcing my breathing steady. “But unfortunately, I won’t be much help for the next day or so.”
It started with the itching. Then the fire.
My whole body felt like it was crawling with invisible ants, stinging and biting as I lay on the freezing floor of that concrete tomb. My stomach twisted violently, and I turned to the side just in time to vomit again–mostly bile by now. There was nothing left inside me.
I groaned, slamming my shoulder against the wall, desperate for something,anything, to focus on besides the hollow burn of withdrawal consuming every inch of me.
No oxy. No fucking relief.
Just this goddamn pit.
Laura knelt nearby, her wrists still zip-tied, but she’d managed to scoot close, brushing her shoulder against mine. “Rafe,” she whispered, “you need to breathe. Slow. Come on. In through your nose.”
I couldn’t.
Every breath felt like breathing razors. My skin was slick with sweat, soaked through my shirt. My hands shook so violently I couldn’t even clench them anymore.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would shatter my ribs. “I can’t,” I rasped. “Fuck–Laura, I can’t–”
Her voice was hoarse but soft. “You can. You’ve done harder shit than this. You’re RafefuckingVaughan.”
I laughed–a broken, choking sound. “He has her. And I’mhere. I’m fuckinghere!” I screamed, slamming my shoulder against the wall again.
She didn’t say anything. What could she? I was crumbling before her, and there was no way to catch the pieces.
Kieran sat a few feet away, trying to stay quiet but clearly watching. He’d watched me struggle with substances before. Nico turned his head, just barely, and murmured, “We’ll get out. We’ve seen you do the impossible before. Don’t you dare quit now, man.”
But I wasn’t listening anymore. My mind was already somewhere else.
She was laughing in the townhouse kitchen, wearing only one of my shirts and sipping her coffee like nothing evil ever touched her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, brushing her hair over one shoulder.
“Because you’re my wife. And I love you,” I said, pulling her against me. I loved her smile and that soft, sleepy look in her bright eyes.
I opened my eyes and nearly screamed. Not from the pain, but from the way it vanished for a second, replaced by the echo of her voice in my head. I pressed my forehead against my knees, trembling. “I can’t lose her,” I whispered, barely audible. “I’ll die if I do.”
