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I backed away, sticking as close to the wall as possible as I left.

“Before you go. Look at me.”

His words shouldn’t have stopped me, but the vampire’s voice was pure command. I obeyed before I even had a chance to think it through.

I hadn’t let myself look into his eyes since I’d first walked into the cell. Despite the fact his back was ripped open, he stood tall, proud. His chest was bare, and though the front was bruised as well, it did nothing to hide the definition of his muscles. He had a warrior’s body. Odd, for such a parasitic creature. His face, though. Even bloody and bruised it could only be called beautiful. It wasn’t a gentle, regal beauty. It was a ruthless kind that, if anything, was enhanced by the cuts on it. His jawline was sharp, casting a shadow over his neck in the torchlight. His brows were stark white, matching his hair.

His red eyes snared me.

“Let me out of my chains.”

Unlike his commanding tone, this he spoke in the same soothing tone he’d used before.

Did he think I was insane?

That’s what I got for daring to speak with a vampire.

“No.”

His brows rose, as if surprised.

“Unlock my chains.” The commanding tone returned, promising violence if I didn’t obey.

This time I didn’t answer. I quickly gathered my supplies and turned towards the exit.

“Free me from my chains, and I’ll let you escape with me,” he hissed at my back.

I slammed the cell door shut behind me.

Chapter Three

I barely slept. Bythe time I got back to one of my sleeping spots—it wasn’t good to stay in the same place too many nights in a row—it was hardly three hours until I needed to be awake. As usual, I fell asleep quickly. No matter what kind of day I had, I couldn’t afford to skip a chance to sleep.

But my dreams were haunted by unnerving red eyes.

Greymere was quiet when I finally woke. My morning routine consisted of tucking away the one threadbare blanket I’d managed to keep from the others for the past year. It also meant I was nowhere near the warmth of the kitchen.

The cold stone of the prison floor always left me sore, even after all these years. My back ached. My shoulders were tight. Grooming amounted to little more than cracking my neck and running my fingers through my hair to clear out some cobwebs.

The hollow hunger was a frequent companion. There was no point trekking over to the kitchen for breakfast. If I tried to get some when it was fresh, I inevitably got elbowed away, delayed from starting my chores—which got me in trouble—and usually didn’t even succeed.

I was scrawny. I couldn’t elbow back. It was better to keep my head down and stay away, so that’s what I did.

I didn’t have time to waste. At least the witch prisoners had the luxury of sleeping in. I wasn’t so lucky. Voids convicted of crimes unlucky enough to be sent to Greymere didn’t sit in cells—they served. Born without magic, we were the only ones who could physically tolerate working in Greymere. No voidvolunteeredto live without the comforts magic offered. The witches weren’t the only prisoners here.

I set off to check my rat traps.

I’d devised the traps from pieces of half-rotted wood, some spare twine, and metal scraps. They would’ve worked leagues better if I had any food to bait the rats with. Without, I caught at most three on a good day.

I’d gone to Nelson when I’d devised the first prototype. I was young then, maybe nine years old. I’d cast Nelson intothe role of a guide, a leader. I’d thought he might be proud of me.

Instead, he snatched the prototype from my tiny hands and threw it on the floor, crushing it under his foot. Of course, that just set off the trap, catching his foot. He yowled, and I’d been so surprised I had actually laughed.

He beat me after that. And I learned not to ask Nelson—not to askanyone—for anything.

Today, the first trap I checked actually had a rat. I made quick work of it, snapping its neck with practiced ease. It should’ve been a fortuitous start to the day.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.