Page 94 of Chain Me

But my fingers disobeyed and encircled her throat instead.

“No!” One by one, they clenched no matter how hard I tried to stop. “No! No!”

Tighter I clenched, until her beautiful babble ceased mid-song. That delicate face turned blue, those tiny limbs frantically flailing.

“No!” I tried to pull away, clawing at my frozen wrist, but it wouldn’t budge. I tugged harder, scraping with my nails. “No! No! Stop!”

My grip wouldn’t loosen, and her tiny body grew limper by the second. Lifeless. With every heartbeat, the color faded from her rosy cheeks.

And I’d lose her forever.

“No! No! No!” I scanned my room, desperate for help. But salvation appeared like magic in my hand—a jagged piece of broken glass, honed like a knife.

And there was no time to hesitate. I slashed, unconcerned as the sharpened edge bit into my wrist. Deep. Deeper. Blood spilled, splattering the floor, but I didn’t matter. Only she did. I needed to save her.

But even the violence didn’t loosen my grip. The next cut went so deep that the blade scraped bone—but not deep enough. So I slashed again. Again. Still, my fingers wouldn’t loosen.

And she wasn’t moving anymore. She wasn’t moving…

“No!” I wailed, trying harder. Cutting deeper, slicing into any part of my arm I could reach. “No! No—”

“Eleanor!”

A cruel hand stole my weapon, struggling to contain my flailing, kicking limbs.

Teeth bared, I fought like hell, but I was no match. “Let me go! Let go! I can’t leave her!”

But when I looked down, she had vanished.

And in her wake: red, red, red. The floor became a sea of it, frothing beneath my feet.

Endless amounts of blood.

“No! I didn’t mean to.” I choked out the confession, my heart breaking as much as my voice was. “I did it. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt her. I couldn’t save her—”

“What’s wrong with her? Eleanor! Eleanor, look at me!”

I barely recognized the sound of Dublin’s voice—ragged, distorted by a horror I couldn’t begin to fathom—but I couldn’t see his face. Though his words lashed at my eardrums, I barely heard him. Just darkness and noise. That goddamn noise.

You’re pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

Desperate, I tried to claw at my ears, but with my body restrained, I could only scream, “Stop! Make it stop, please!” I didn’t know who I was pleading with. Dublin? God? Anyone? “I can’t take it. Make it stop. Make it stop! Make it stop—”

“Dmitri!”

“I have it. Shhh, my dear,” another voice crooned sweetly into my ear. “A little pinch… There. This will take the pain away, I promise.”

I was only vaguely aware of a burning sting along my arm.

And then…peace.

The Serpent’s Nest

“You are restrained,” a man warned as I floated on the cusp of consciousness. His voice served as a steadying anchor, drawing me back when I only wanted to drift.

Dublin?No. Someone sly, their accent thicker.

“Try not to panic,” he insisted. “You’re wounded, and frankly, I’d rather not have to bandage youagain. So deep breaths and all of that. Prepare yourself, my dear. It isn’t pretty.”