Page 60 of Forbidden Empire

Across the aisle, another anklet blinked to life on a runner’s boot, same casing, same pulse, already sprinting toward the service door.

Panic surged hot and choking.

“Move,” someone barked. Zip ties bit into my wrists as cloth hit my mouth.

The world shrank to boots, tiles, and the sound of the decoy feet running away in the wrong direction.

My legs wouldn't move. I hung limp like a rag doll, pain raging through my chest as they carried me over a shoulder.

My ribs ground together, the agony so excruciating, I couldn’t help but scream.

I clawed at the fucker’s back, nails tearing into anything I could reach. Digging in, I scored fabric, skin. But the pain won out, cut deeper, shooting lightning through my shattered ribs.

The world spun, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. All I could hear was my frantic heartbeat and Aidon's broken shout.

"Let her go!" His plea cracked, as if something in him shattered wide open.

Rhea's laughter sliced through it all, a sound like glass breaking. "You should choose your allies more wisely, Aidon."

She dragged a finger along his cheek, painting a smear of my blood across his skin.

His eyes found mine, just once. "I should have let you burn!"

His voice was ruined, grief and rage twisted together, chasing me as I was carried away.

Every step sent splinters of pain through my chest until even screaming became impossible, my lungs locked in a useless, frantic search for air.

Eleven

ESME

Venomous rage burned through me, hotter than any fire. It wasn’t a simple pulse. It tore through my veins, leaving nothing but raw hunger and the acid bite of desperation.

The ropes cut deeper with every movement, digging into my wrists and ankles until blood slipped warm and slick across my palm.

I should have surrendered, let despair swallow me whole in this windowless cell, but instead I pulled harder, the need for freedom clawing at my insides.

The faint hum of television monitors droned on, mixing with the ragged edge of my breathing.

Beyond the walls, the rhythmic stomp of Rhea’s armed guards was a constant reminder of how I was never alone, not even for a second.

A thin wall separated us. Just that much between me and the taste of freedom I ached for.

I allowed the pain to anchor me, forced myself to breathe, to focus.

The air was heavy with the tang of blood and the electric charge of panic.

I told myself over and over again not to panic.

To breathe. To calm my mind.

But the fury pounded like a war drum, wild and relentless, and logic whispered encouragements that I could take those guards down if I were given the chance.

I gritted my teeth as the rope sliced deeper, my mind a whirlwind of pain and determination.

I wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Not ever.

If Rhea wanted me dead, I’d be dead.