Page 8 of Sophie’s Ruin (Crimson and Shadows #2)

He didn’t add that everything would be okay, and I found myself wishing that he would. This moment was one of those rare instances I wanted to be lied to, if only to make the situation more bearable.

“I’m sorry you can’t go back and warn the others,” I told him, my voice hoarse.

I’d meant what I’d said. I couldn’t go to Henry, and Waylon couldn’t go to his people. Staying here instead of rushing back to the Empire was torture, and we were both suffering.

Waylon nodded but didn’t say anything else before he walked inside the house. Celeste followed him in, leaving me alone on the porch. With a rough exhale, I turned around and faced the woods, lifting my eyes to the night sky.

“I will come for you,” I said to Henry, hoping he could hear me somehow across the distance that lay between us.

The dream I’d had right before I’d awakened tonight resurfaced in my mind.

In it, a dark abyss of pain and suffering separated Henry and me.

Little had I known the dream had been prophetic.

Tears welled, and I blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

Inhaling deeply, I uttered the three words I should have said to Henry when I’d had the chance.

After all, I’d felt them in my heart for a while now, even if I hadn’t realized it.

I hoped the air would carry the words to Henry until I could say them to his face.

“Have hope,” I added.

I wasn’t sure if the last two words were meant for him or me.

They were for both of us, I decided, as I turned around and walked inside the cottage.

HENRY

Sophie’s voice beckoned me to the surface of the obsidian waters I was submerged in.

Slowly, I swam toward it, anticipation building the higher I rose in this bottomless ocean of pain.

I knew she shouldn’t be here. I had sent her away so she could be safe.

Why had she returned? It didn’t matter. I knew she shouldn’t be here, but a small, selfish part of me rejoiced that she had come back.

I couldn’t wait to see her face and breathe her in, if only for the last time.

Heart-wrenching regret surged, threatening to suffocate me before I made it to the surface.

I had just found Sophie. My life was finally complete with her by my side, but soon, it might get cut short just as I had truly started living.

My eyes pricked with tears, but still, I pushed through, rising higher and higher until I broke through the glossy black surface.

Sophie wasn’t there when I came to with a sharp gasp.

But Moreau was, glaring down at me, his fangs glistening in the yellow glow.

Candlelight. Where was I? My gaze stretched past Moreau to the cavernous ceiling, then lowered to the rows of skulls sitting on the shelves carved into the stone wall.

I had been in this place before—Stern’s lair.

They must have brought me here while I had been unconscious.

I was lying on my back, my shredded shirt providing little barrier between me and the cool, rough ground. My nostrils flared as I smelled the other vampires in the room. The other clan leaders were all here. My captors. I will fucking kill them.

A menacing snarl escaped as my lips peeled back to expose my fangs. I prepared to kick up, the stiff muscles of my torso tensing, but before I could, Moreau slammed his booted foot into my chest, keeping me down.

“Not so fast,” he growled.

With an answering growl, I wrapped both hands around his foot, intending to throw him off, but I didn’t get a chance to follow through because someone kicked me in the ribs.

Pain exploded as another kick came to the head.

Everything in me screamed to fight back, but I was weak—weaker than I had expected.

I had forgotten the beating my body had already been through.

I needed blood to recover. My stomach twisted at the thought as hunger spiked.

It seemed that once I had acknowledged my thirst, given life to it, it seized control, lashing at my insides.

A strangled sound left me as my body spasmed.

My stomach cramped, and I wanted to curl into myself.

Doing so would also help withstand the kicking better, but Moreau’s foot on my chest was pushing me down, driving me into the floor.

The beating continued for a while until it eventually stopped when I’d become a bloody, battered mess on the floor.

Moreau’s foot was no longer on my chest. He didn’t need to keep me down. I couldn’t get up even if I tried.

The clan leaders surrounded me, peering down at me.

Blinding hatred blurred their features as I stared up at the perfect faces.

Fucking monsters. I couldn’t stand looking at them, so I let my gaze slide to my left, to the small wooden table sitting there.

Something metal lay atop it, I could smell it even past the metallic scent of my blood, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

I solved that mystery a moment later when Moreau reached for the table and picked up a sharp sickle blade.

My stomach twisted again but now for a different reason.

“This is going to be fun,” Moreau drawled, with a deranged expression on his rough-hewn face.

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, mentally preparing myself for what was to come.

This was going to be worse than I’d thought.

They couldn’t kill me yet because I was bait for Sophie, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make me suffer.

When I opened my eyes again, Moreau’s features were mottled in a savage smile.

“Does anyone else want to join me?” he asked the others in the room.

My gaze darted to the other clan leaders. Beatrice Stern looked like she was on the verge of saying yes, her fathomless eyes lighting up with wicked excitement. She was so much like her brother, a monster through and through.

“Maybe later,” she said. “I need to feed first.” She turned and left the room.

Lena and Yvonne also declined before leaving.

“You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?” Emeric asked Moreau, his face set in a strange expression. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be impressed or disturbed.

“I am,” Moreau drew the word out, his tone chilling my blood. “Very much so.”

Deciding on disturbed, Emeric just shook his head, his brows knitting before he strolled out.

Camilla was the only one left in the cavernous room besides Moreau and me.

She eyed the Lord of the West as if she wasn’t sure she should be leaving him alone with me.

A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. Perhaps I would be spared from what Moreau was planning to do to me.

Silence stretched for a few seconds as Camilla stood unmoving, staring at Moreau.

He stared back, a challenge in his feverish brown eyes.

My heart stuttered as I waited for my fate to be sealed, and stopped when Camilla turned to leave.

“Don’t kill him,” she threw over her shoulder before she walked out.

Moreau looked unhinged when he turned toward me, the sickle blade gleaming in his hand.

“You’re mine now,” he snarled, seconds before my screams filled the cave.