Page 48 of Crowned In Venom
48
VARKOS
N o. No. No.
I can’t let this happen.
I won’t.
Not to her. Not to Anya.
My mind is a storm, my body trembling as I clutch her, as if holding her tighter will keep her here, keep her safe.
"There’s another way," I tell her, desperate, my voice raw and breaking. "There has to be. We will find it."
But Anya steps away from me.
A slow, deliberate movement.
I snatch for her, but she is already slipping from my grasp, already standing in front of the Ghost.
"Do it," she says, her voice steady, unwavering.
My stomach drops.
"Anya—"
She turns, smiling at me.
Soft.
Heartbreaking.
"I love you, Varkos."
Her eyes shine with certainty, with something so pure it nearly shatters me.
"I would do anything to free you from this."
No.
I step toward her, shaking my head, my entire body trembling with the force of my refusal.
"No," I rasp. "No, Anya. You don’t have to do this."
She clutches me, her fingers digging into my arms as if she is trying to keep me from breaking apart.
"I do," she whispers.
I grip her back, my fingers digging into her waist, holding her like she is the only thing tethering me to this world.
Because she is.
"What is my life without you?"
My voice is wrecked.
I shake my head, frantic, my forehead pressing against hers.
"I can’t lose you."
She clings to me.
I cling to her.
And for a moment, I think maybe—maybe she won’t do this.
Maybe she will stay.
Maybe I can protect her.
But then?—
"Ahem."
The Ghost’s bored voice slices through the air like a blade.
We both freeze.
The Ghost watches us with something that is almost—amusement.
I stiffen.
"What the hell are you playing at?" I snap, fury lashing through me.
The Ghost tilts his head.
"Oh, I just find it entertaining," he says smoothly. "You two are always so dramatic."
A sharp, white-hot rage burns through me.
I almost lunge for him.
Almost sink my dagger into his throat.
But then?—
"There's another way."
The room stills.
A slow, cold silence spreads between us.
Anya and I both snap our heads toward him.
"What?" I demand.
The Ghost shrugs.
"You don’t have to kill her," he says, casual as ever.
I stare.
Anya stares.
"You—" My voice cracks. "You knew this, and you let her?—"
The Ghost raises a gloved hand, silencing me.
"I didn’t say it would be painless."
A slow, sick feeling curls in my gut.
The Ghost takes a step forward, gesturing toward the stone altar.
"This is a ritual chamber," he says. "Designed for… let's say, alternative methods."
A bad feeling settles in my gut.
"What do you mean?" Anya asks, her voice cautious.
The Ghost sighs, as if explaining to children.
"Your heartblood can be extracted," he says. "Without killing you."
I stiffen.
Anya freezes.
"But—" she hesitates. "Wouldn’t I?—"
"Live? Yes."
A flicker of hope.
For a second, I breathe.
Until—
"But it will feel like a thousand swords stabbing into you at once."
The air shifts.
Cold.
Anya sways slightly.
I step in front of her, shielding her.
"No." My voice is deadly. "Absolutely not."
The Ghost raises a brow.
"Your alternative is watching her die," he says mildly.
A deep rage coils in my chest.
A sharp panic.
I turn to Anya, gripping her shoulders.
"You can’t do this."
She meets my gaze.
Her eyes are soft. Strong.
She smiles.
"I can."
My breath shudders.
"Anya—"
She cups my face, her thumbs brushing against my cheekbones.
"Varkos," she whispers.
My heart aches.
"It's my turn to protect you."
She leans in, her forehead against mine.
"We have to defeat her," she murmurs. "We have to do this—for us."
For us.
A future.
A world where we are free.
I want to believe it.
I want to hold onto that dream.
But the thought of her in pain—of her suffering?—
It kills me.
She sees it in my face.
She smiles, pressing her lips against mine in a soft, lingering kiss.
And then?—
"Alright, alright," the Ghost interrupts, sounding exasperated. "You two can be disgustingly in love later. We don’t have time."
Anya pulls back.
She turns to him.
Her voice is steady.
"Do it."
The room goes silent.
And I swear?—
The air itself stops breathing.