Page 107 of The Delta's Rogue
I’m worth too much money in her eyes for that.
Brenna’s gaze darts towards me then back to Amara. “I thought we agreed to give her one more week.”
Amara shakes her head with a quiet laugh. “Anaís is a showstopper. And she’s ready. She doesn’t need more time.” Amara smooths her dress over her hips and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I need to take care of a few more last-minute details,” she says as she unlocks the door. “Anaís is expected in the dressing room in five minutes to finish preparations.”
The door slams shut as she leaves. Brenna swivels her head to stare at me with wide eyes, but I see through her innocent “I’m a prisoner too” act.
Of course she lied. She did everything she could to gain my trust. Brenna saw an opportunity to impress Amara, and she seized it. Her power gave her the ability to exploit my weaknesses. She used my empathy and my love for Sebastian against me, and molded me into this empty shell of a person who’ll do anything to survive.
She’s just another snake. A power-hungry, ladder-climbing snake.
I should have seen it sooner. I should have seen through her bullshit from the beginning.
Trusting her was the worst decision I’ve ever made.
Brenna grabs my hand. I snarl at her, but she ignores me.
Her words spill from her frantically as her eyes scan my face. “I swear I didn’t know about this, Sarina. You have to believe me. You have to trust me!”
Jaw clenching and nostrils flaring, I rip my hand out of her grasp and hold it in the air behind me—tensed and ready to strike. “I did trust you. Look where that got me.” My chin lifts, my gaze traveling down my nose to shoot her a frigid glare. “I thought you were different, but you’re just like Amara.”
I brace myself for the backlash, for her to drop her act and give me the punishment I deserve—the punishment she’s likely been waiting for weeks to give me. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, she flinches at my words, the hurt rippling across her features and reflecting in her eyes faster than a bruise would form from a physical blow.
“I am not like Amara.”
“Then let me go.” I tug at the collar that renders me practically human, ignoring the bite of pain of the silver against my fingers. “Libérame. Set me free andhelp me escape.”
“Sarina…” She blinks back the tears shining in her eyes. “You know I can’t do that.”
I bite back a wry laugh. Of course she sticks with her façade of innocence, even though the truth is obvious.
Her chest vibrates as she takes slow, measured breaths, and my eyes lock onto the vial of blood next to her eagle pendant. I flick my gaze to her face for a split second before returning it to that vial.
Then I act.
I lunge for her, reaching for that chain, for the vial resting against her sternum. Before I can grab it, before my fingers even brush against the glass, her hand is around it, using the blood magic to hold me in place—just like I knew she would.
“I’m sorry, Sarina. I—”
“Save it for your next victim.” I spit the words through gritted teeth, fighting with everything I have against her magical hold on me even though I know it’s no use. The electrifying pain pulses through me with each beat of my heart, growing stronger the harder I fight against it.
Brenna grips the vial tighter and spins to the door, dragging me along with her. The skirt of her white dress slides across the floor as she walks.
Another set of goosebumps rises across my skin at the sense of déjà vu I get while watching her, the dress flashing from white to deep plum and back again. The resemblance between her and Amara in this moment is uncanny. Her pure white dress is the younger, seemingly innocent sister to Amara’s purple one—a stark reminder of whose protégé she is, of who has molded her and guided her, who influenced her every move and decision.
The door swings open, and we walk out into the hallway, and all I want to do is cry. I want to cry at how stupid I was to trust her, and at the knowledge that I’ll never see my Sebastian again, or anyone else I love. I want tears to fall down my cheeks and smear across my skin, to turn my eyes red and my face splotchy, to ruin all the work they’ve done to me since I arrived here.
But I can’t cry. My tears have run out. I’ve been here so long I can’t even remember when I shed the last of them.
Instead, my heart sinks further into the desolate, gaping pit in the center of my body. Each beat reverberates into the emptiness, swallowed by the vast nothingness spanning the galaxy of my soul.
The halls are silent as Brenna forces me to walk through them. The only sounds are the soft padding of my bare feet on the cold floor and the rustle of Brenna’s dress as it trails behind her.
She leads me through the building and through the room where I endured my torturous training, to a door in the middle of the far wall. On the other side of the door, the hall is bustling with activity.
Dressed all in white, Amara’s witches rush around, some escorting girls who will be auctioned, like me, and others carrying serving trays.
“Please bring Cecily backstage and have Payton on standby,”a voice says through speakers lining the hallway.
