Page 19

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Paigelynn

I grip the knife tightly, my knuckles white. The handle is slick with sweat, but I don’t dare let go. It’s the only thing keeping me grounded, the only thing I trust right now. My breathing is shallow, each exhale barely more than a whisper.

If I’m too loud, they’ll hear me.

If I move too much, they’ll find me.

I press my back harder against the wall, trying to make myself smaller.

Outside, the guards’ voices echo, faint but clear enough to make my stomach twist.

“She can’t have gone far,” one of them says, his voice sharp. “Check every hatch. Every corner.”

I press my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound of my breathing. My heart pounds so loud it feels like they’ll hear it.

Like it’s giving me away.

Ian’s voice rings in my head, sharp and cruel. You’re ruined. You’re nothing. You don’t belong to yourself anymore. I clench my teeth, trying to push it away, but his words stick.

They crawl under my skin like poison, wrapping around me, tightening their hold.

The guards’ voices from earlier come back too, their laughter, their taunts. She’s not The Mother’s perfect little heart anymore. She’s just trash. Just broken.

I hate them. I hate Ian. I hate the cabal.

I hate that part of me still listens to them, still believes them.

They’ve planted their lies inside me. No matter how hard I fight, they’re always there, whispering in the back of my mind.

Then I think of Cam.

His voice. His face. The way he looked at me, not like I was broken, but like I was something worth saving. I think of the way he fought for me, how he always fights for me, no matter the cost.

He saw something in me before I even saw it in myself.

And now?

Now I think I see it too.

The prophecy was a lie. The cabal doesn’t own me. They never did. I’m not their tool. I’m not their heart. I’m not ruined.

I’m me. Paigelynn.

That’s enough.

My grip on the knife tightens, my knuckles turning white again. My fear starts to shift, turning into something sharper, something hotter.

Anger. Determination.

I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to hide. I want to fight—not just to survive, but for more.

For a life.

For Cam.

For us .

The guards’ footsteps grow louder, closer. My body tenses, every muscle coiling like a spring. I don’t know if I can win, but I know one thing for sure.

I’m not going down without a fight.

The handle above me creaks. My chest tightens as the hatch door swings open, the light from the hallway spilling inside.

“There you are,” a deep voice says, full of smug satisfaction.

A hand reaches down, grabbing my arm before I can react. I scream and swing the knife, but the blade glances off his sleeve.

He’s too strong. His fingers clamp around my wrist, twisting until the knife falls from my hand with a dull clang.

“Let go of me!” I shout, my voice breaking. I kick at him, my heel connecting with his shin.

He grunts in pain but doesn’t let go. Instead, he pulls me out of the hatch, dragging me into the open, my elbow whacking hard against the wall, nerve pain shooting up into my jaw.

“Stop squirming,” he growls, shaking me hard enough to make my teeth rattle. “You’re just making this worse for yourself.”

I twist and thrash, my nails digging into his arm. He’s built like a tank, his hands rough and unyielding. His grip moves to my shoulders, shoving me back against the wall.

The impact knocks the breath out of me. I gasp, my chest heaving.

“Stay still,” he snaps, his face inches from mine.

His breath smells like cigarettes and sweat, and the heat of it makes my stomach churn.

In the back of my mind, I remember him. Ross .

He was a security guard in my room before.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? The Donegal brothers love to play with your type. ”

My stomach twists in disgust as Ross leans in closer, his hand moving to pin my wrists above my head.

His weight presses against me, trapping me in place.

I try to pull away, to break free, but he’s too strong.

The cold metal of the wall digs into my back, and his fingers press hard into my arms, bruising the skin.

“Get off me!” I yell, my voice trembling with rage and fear. “Don’t touch me!”

He laughs, a low, mocking sound that sends a chill down my spine. “You don’t get to make the rules here, sweetheart.”

I twist harder, my nails scraping against his arm, but it doesn’t faze him. His hand moves to my chin, forcing my face up to meet his eyes. They’re dark, cruel, and filled with something that makes me feel sick.

I’m trapped.

“Enough!” a second voice barks, sharp and commanding.

The guard’s grip on me tightens for a second before he’s yanked away. The sudden release makes me stumble forward, and I collapse to my knees, gasping for air.

“What the hell are you doing?” the nicer guard says, his voice low and furious. “Have you forgotten the orders?”

“Go to hell, Norm. She was fighting me,” the first guard snaps, his voice defensive. “I was just?—”

“You were just disobeying The Mother,” Norm cuts him off. “She wants the girl untouched. We need her heart.”

My heart. That’s all they care about.

Not me. Not Paigelynn. Just the thing inside me that they think they own.

My stomach twists again, but this time it’s not fear.

It’s anger.

Norm steps closer, his boots stopping just inches from me. I don’t look up. I can’t. My whole body is shaking, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

His voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its edge. “You don’t want to make this worse for yourself, girl. It'll be a hundred times easier if you just give in. Just come quietly.”

I grit my teeth, my hands clenching into fists against the cold floor. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say, my voice low but steady.

He sighs, like I’m a child throwing a tantrum. “You don’t have a choice.”

My eyes dart to the knife lying a few feet away, its blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. I glance up at the two guards, watching as Ross glares at me while rubbing his arm where I scratched him. Norm looks impatient, his hand resting on the gun at his hip.

They’re distracted. This is my chance.

I lunge for the knife, my fingers closing around the handle.

Ross shouts, but I’m already moving, slashing the blade toward him.

It catches his leg, forcing me to pull hard through his skin, and he howls in pain, stumbling back.

Blood drips onto the floor, dark and sticky, but I don’t stop.

I leap to my feet, swinging the knife again, this time aiming for Norm.

He dodges, grabbing my wrist and twisting hard.

Pain shoots through my arm, radiating into my shoulder blade, but I don’t let go.

I kick at him, my foot connecting with his knee.

He grunts in pain. The knife slips from my grip, clattering to the floor again, but I don’t stop fighting.

I claw at his face, my nails catching on his skin. He lets out a curse.

“STOP!” he roars, shoving me back against the wall.

His hand clamps around my throat, pinning me in place.

“You think you can really escape? They’ll just activate lockdown and you’ll be hunted within the perimeter.

You’re dead either way. Don’t bring me down with you.

They’ll kill me if I kill you, and I got a family to worry about. ”

The words sting, but they also light a fire inside me. I grab his wrist, my nails digging into his skin as I glare up at him. “I have a family out there, too,” I hiss, my voice shaking but strong.

He pauses, tightening his grip for a second before shoving me to the ground. I land hard, the impact jolting through my joints, but I don’t cry out.

I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Let’s go,” he snaps at Ross, who’s still clutching his bleeding leg. “Grab her. The Mother’s waiting.”

The words send a chill down my spine, but they also harden my resolve.

They think they’ve won.

They think I’m beaten.

But they’re wrong.

I won’t stop fighting.

Not now.

Not ever .

And then I realize the very thing they want most – my heart – is what I can threaten to get out of this.

I take the knife in my hand and move the point to my chest.

"What the hell?" Norm asks in a low, menacing voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You can't have it. She can't have it," I say, the tip of my knife covered in blood from the other guard. "I'd rather die that let you take me."

I center the knife over my heart.

Ross glares at me. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

He snorts.

"Or maybe it would be easier to just bleed out," I say, moving the knife to my wrist. I slide the thin, sharp blade from the crook of my elbow down to my wrist without cutting my skin.

"I know this is how you actually do it. Opens the artery faster.

Wider. I'd bleed out long before you or any of the others could save my heart for her. "

They exchange a worried glance.

"And it would be all your fault," I spit out.

Now I've got their attention.