Page 163 of Blood of the Saints

Pushing to my feet, I feel all eyes on me. “What are we waiting for, boys? I’m ready to prove I’m worthy of being your Queen.”

They all glance at each other, the tension in the room growing thicker. You’d think my revelation would lighten the tension, but it doesn’t.

Something isn’t right.

“Okay, let’s go,” Ace says as they all stand and head toward the door to the basement. Ace is in the front, followed by Theon and I as Blais follows behind us. I stop at the top of the stairs, waiting for Theon to be below me enough to jump on his back. Wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, his body tenses at first, wanting to fight, but he relaxes when he realizes it's just me.

“About gave me a heart attack, princess,” he mutters.

“After I prove you guys wrong, you have to carry me around like this for at least a month.”

Theon shakes his head. I know he wants to protest, but he doesn’t. “Deal.”

We stop as Ace opens the metal door to a room I know all too well, his green eyes staring at me with fear of the unknown embedded deep within. The look is enough to make my stomach clench. If Ace is looking at me like that, whatever waits beyond that door has to be pretty fucking bad.

My heart races as Theon follows Ace through the open door still carrying me. This is it. I’m going to show them I belong here.

As soon as we’re through the threshold, my eyes land on my surprise. A loud gasp from me echoes through the room, and my arms give out. Shock courses through my body, and I’m unable to hold myself up. Theon’s hands hold onto my thighs, but he can’t stop me from falling backward. My back crashes against Blais’ hard chest as his arms slip around me to keep me from falling to the floor.

My eyes don’t leave the familiar set of brown eyes of the man chained up.

This can’t be happening.

No.

This isn’t real.

I rub my fists over my eyes hoping that this is some sort of illusion, that he won’t be here when I open them again. But it doesn't work. He’s still here, chained up.

I scramble to my feet when I realize I’m still in Blais’ arms. At this point, I don’t know who I can trust.

What the fuck is going on?

Why are they doing this?

This is their fucking test? They can’t trust me enough, so they’ve got to do this to me?

Falling to my knees, I double over, heaving. My lungs feel like they're on fire, and my stomach threatens to lose the breakfast I just ate, but it never does.

A body kneels beside me rubbing my back, but I don’t know who it is. “You need to breathe, Zamira. Breathe for us, please.” I’m so in my head I don’t know who’s talking to me.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Get the fuck away from me, you lying fucking traitors!”

“Zamira, calm down and listen to us.”

My mouth feels so fucking dry, I can’t get any words out. Sitting back on my heels, I look up into those haunted looking brown eyes, my stomach twisting even more.

“Matt…” I croak, the word barely recognizable.

“No, no, no.” My head shakes frantically, not believing what I’m seeing. This can’t be real. Tears threaten to escape my eyes, but I push them back as much as I can. This has to be some kind of sick fucking joke.

Why the hell are they doing this? Is this their test? For me to kill off the only family I have so they’re the only ones who can occupy my time and mind?

I lift my body from the ground on shaky legs, feeling heavy as I walk toward my chained, beaten best friend.

“Matt.” My lips tremble, the breathless whisper filled with so much fucking pain it’s like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.

His eyes meet mine, but they’re ghostly and hollow. They don’t shine with his usual humor or happiness. His face is bloody and bruised, a large lump has formed on his forehead, looking like a heavy fist hit him over and over again. Blood covers his crisp white shirt, trickling down onto his light gray dress pants. He looks like fucking hell, worse than I’ve ever seen him before.

---