Page 109 of Break Her Heart
It gnawed at me that Adar had done that. Passing on the title of Father wasn’t something you could just take back. It was a permanent surrender of everything our family had built. Even if, by some miracle, we made it back to Joveryn, there would be no reclaiming it. And the way he’d handed it over so decisively told me he didn’t believe we ever would.
Someone cleared their throat.
“Please tell me they had grape—” The rest snagged in my throat as my gaze locked on a pair of dark, unblinking eyes. Benedict stood a few paces away, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the sun-bleached ground. His black hair was wind-tossed, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and the set of his mouth was tight, unreadable.
“Benedict?” His name came out broken.
A thousand thoughts crashed through me, all of them slamming back to August. Had he sent Benedict? And if so, why wasn’t he here himself? Was he hurt? Safe? I was angry at him for what he’d done, but if this meant I could go back to him, none of that mattered.
“I’m sorry, Bronwen,” Benedict said, and there was something final in his tone that made my skin prickle.
“What?” The word was barely out before he was behind me, a cloth pressing hard over my mouth and nose. A sharp, sweet scent flooded my senses. I clawed at his arm, feeling magic hum beneath his skin, but my strength bled away before I could pull.
36
Bronwen
I woke to the feeling of lead in my veins. Heavy. Cold. Paralyzing. Every limb felt like it had been filled with stone. My head throbbed, each heartbeat a deep, aching pulse behind my eyes. My mouth was dry—so dry it felt cracked—and my tongue tasted like iron. A sickly pressure coiled around my chest, making every breath feel like I was inhaling smoke.
I tried to move—tried to open my eyes—but even that was a battle. My lashes stuck together. My body didn’t feel like my own.
The world was dark. Blindingly so.
Panic surged in my chest as I jerked against unseen restraints. My hands were tied tightly behind my back, the coarse rope digging into my skin with every small movement. Something rough and musty covered my face, trapping the scent of damp cloth and earth. The same type of rope that held my hands together was wrapped around my mouth.
I shifted my weight and tried to use my shoulder to push myself up. My legs trembled, sluggish and uncooperative, and I collapsed onto my side. I inched forward, dragging myself along the ground, but the ropes dug deeper, biting into raw skin. Somewhere in the distance, a twig snapped.
“We have a surprise for you.”
The voice came muffled, warped through the fabric, but close. Too close. My heart pounded in my ears. My breath came fast and shallow, dampening the gag as I tried to calm the rising tide of fear.
Footsteps crunched across leaves and twigs, growing louder. Closer. Then rough hands clamped down on my arms hard enough to bruise, yanking me forward without care. I was hauled across uneven ground, my body jolting with each jagged root and jutting stone I struck. My knees scraped raw against dirt and rock, the chill of the forest floor seeping through my clothes like ice. One of them let out a low, cruel laugh, the sound dripping with amusement at my helpless struggle, before jerking me harder just to hear me gasp.
“No.” It was a whisper—broken, horrified. It wasn’t mine.
Chains rattled somewhere close, the sound jagged in the still air.
A rough shove sent me forward, the impact jolting up my spine. Fingers like iron clamped down on my shoulders, forcing me to stay there, grinding me into the cold earth. I could hear their laughter above me—low, cruel, and full of amusement at how easily they could keep me there, broken and kneeling.
Before I could lift my head, the bag was ripped from over it. Fog hugged the forest floor in curling tendrils. The smell of ash and damp soil filled my nose, thick enough to choke on. I pushed myself up off the ground as best I could, head pounding.
A scream tore through the stillness, sharp and raw, ripping through the night like something wounded beyond saving. Itechoed through the woods, shuddering in my bones, a sound that didn’t belong to me.
“No!”
My eyes darted toward the sound—
August.
The sight of him stole the breath from my lungs. He was bound in chains, his body restrained by thick iron cuffs that bit into his skin and wrapped tight around his wrists and throat. The vampires holding him stood tense, muscles straining as they gripped the chains, their eyes fixed warily on him like they knew how dangerous he was even restrained. Moonlight filtered through the branches above, striping his pale, furious face in silver. His bare chest heaved, and his lips were peeled back over his fangs, a low, feral growl vibrating from somewhere deep in his chest.
There were several vampires in the clearing—more than I’d realized at first. Some I recognized from the parties at the castle, faces that had once been masked by polite smiles and jeweled goblets. Others were strangers, their features sharp and unreadable, watching with the stillness of predators who didn’t need to blink.
“Let her go! I am your king, and I command it!” His voice cracked with something deeper than fury—anguish sharpened into a threat. His whole body coiled with brutal intent, veins bulging as he lunged forward, yanking against the iron so violently the chains shrieked in protest. The metal bit deep into his wrists, tearing skin, blood slicking the cuffs, but still he strained forward like he could rip through steel by will alone.
He roared again, the sound raw, guttural, and edged with desperation, barely human. “Do you hear me? Let her GO!”
One of the vampires staggered from the force of his pull, boots skidding in the dirt. The others dug in harder, shouldersbraced, planting their feet like anchors to keep from being dragged toward him.
