Page 33 of The Heir
Light floods my eyes as the blindfold is ripped away. I wince and squeeze my eyes shut, grunting as a pounding headache sends another wave of nausea through my gut. The burn of bile in my throat makes me cough.
Cold liquid splashes down my face, and a rough, dry rag pulls at my skin. As soon as the attack relents, I squint open an eye and take in my surroundings.
No. Ella smiles maliciously at me from a metal folding chair, holding a water bottle and the rag. I yank myself away—but my restraints hold me fast. Looking down at myself, my wrists are bound by handcuffs, locked to either side of a metal hospital gurney. Kicking my feet, I find thick iron shackles around my ankles. They're welded to a heavy chain that disappears below me.
"So nice of you to join me, Dante." Ella fake-pouts and inspects her short fingernails. "Your wife isn't awake yet."
"Melody?" My voice scratches in my throat, sounding hoarse and weak. "You took her?"
"Correction." Ella holds up a finger. "We took all of you. Regrettably, Roman didn't survive the ordeal. He would have had such fun with you after all these years of being your little lapdog."
Icy dread and fear slither in my bones. A cold sweat breaks out on my brow. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, was that a surprise? That he's been Seraph all this time? Oops." She shrugs. "You're not as smart as you look."
"How?" I ask, my heart rate spiking. The machinery she's hooked me up to starts beeping an alarm, and she sighs. She pokes a button, and the alarm ceases.
"What, you expect me to start monologuing? Tell you my grand plan? That's cute." She giggles. "You'realmost done with that bag, and there's no lasting damage to your head. Which is nice for me; you'll be alive and well when the Nephilim arrives."
My mouth goes dry. "Who are you, really? Obviously you're with the Seraph, but who are you?"
"You haven't figured it out? Wow. Melody real can pick 'em, huh?" Ella smirks. "The new Beacon of North America, thanks to your little military mole and murderous wife. Putting her away didn'tjustget me a promotion on the force."
I suck in a breath as my heart leaks down to the roiling pit of my stomach. I knew Ella was up there, but the Beacon? There's no one above her—except for the Nephilim.
"Where is she?" I manage to snarl.
"Who, your wife? She's here. I'm about to go check on her. Don't worry, Dante—we'll takeexcellentcare of her." With that, Ella stands and pats my exposed foot before exiting the room. I try to jerk away, but the IV moves around under my skin again, making me dry-heave.
"You'll fucking regret this, Ella!" I shout. "I'm going to kill you if Melody doesn't get to you first!"
My voice echoes around the enclosed space, but I swear I can hear Ella's haughty giggle from beyond the thick walls.
I finally manage to look around. Water still drips in the distance, but with my consciousness and sight regained, the gravity of the situation hits me like a brick. I'm chained to a metal gurney in a concrete room. Old black stains mar the walls, and puddles of stagnant water gather in the corners. The door—if you could call it a door—is made of old iron bars, or possibly steel.
It's a prison. It's an old, abandoned prison. I can't see daylight from any angle, and I don't want to move too much. At least, until I get this goddamn needle out of my arm. Fuck, we're back in an underground prison. Melody's terrified face flashes through my mind—she's going to be inconsolable. I grit my teeth and writhe my arm, trying to force the IV out. If I can just get this fucker out, I can dislocate my thumb and wrench myself out of these cuffs.
A hair-raising scream echoes through the hall, and my heart sinks even lower. My wife is awake, andI'm not there.
Melody
Thought number one: my headreallyfucking hurts. Thought number two: I can't move my arms or legs. Thought number three: I'm back in a fucking prison, and I have toscream. The violence with which it rips itself out of my lungs and throat surprises me, but once I start? I can't stop. The sheer volume hurts my own ears as I rattle the handcuffskeeping me bound to this stupid hospital-style bed. I kick my feet, I rip my arms from side to side, and I don't. Stop. Screaming.
"Wow!" Ella pops her head around the corner, leering at me from between the metal bars of the door. "You sure can be loud!"
I take a ragged inhale, wincing at how raw my throat feels, but then keep screaming. I don't have words. I don't havefreedom. I can't fuckingmove.She's trapped me, again, and I'm going to fucking kill her for it. I'm going to rip her throat out. I'm going to make her eat her own intestines. I'm going to tear my own hands off if that's what it takes to get me out of here.
Ella creaks open my cell door and slaps a hand over my mouth. I bite down as hard as I can on the flesh of her palm, shaking my head back and forth like a dog. I feel her skin split and give way; I taste the salty copper tang of her blood. She curses loudly and tries to wrench her hand away, but I bite down harder. And harder. And harder.
"Fuck!" Ella shouts as she finally frees her hand. My teeth gnash in the air, and my eyes roll. I'm rabid, I'm feral, and I'm going to terrify her. I'm going to kill her. I'm going to killeveryone.
Red floods my vision as my scream turns into a menacing laugh. Ella glares at me, putting pressure on her bleeding hand. She yanks a tissue from her pocket and closes her fist around it, trying to stem the flow. I can'tstop laughing. I hurt her. I did that. And I wantmore. I want her blood to spill and flood the floor.
"I'm going to kill you," I whisper in a sing-song voice between hysterical giggles. "You're going to die!"
"God, that's creepy." Ella grimaces. "You're not going to do anything, though. You're locked up. Again. I'm not!"
"Not for long," I sing. "You tried this once, remember? I still got out!"
