Page 106 of The Last One Standing (Rogue X Ara #4)

ARA

T he spikes dragged across my skin like hot nails.

The shackle reached the meaty part of my palm, fingers folded as far as I could. It wasn’t enough.

Iaso pulled harder. Something snapped, a tendon or a bone. Felt like both. My fingers went limp, and my eyes rolled back.

She gained an inch, and the cuff stopped at the widest part of my hand, spikes fully buried.

Fire raced up my arm—electric fire—but when I looked, there were no flames, no sparks.

Screaming filled my skull. My teeth and jaw ached.

I couldn’t hear or see or move. All I could do was feel, the world reduced down to my destroyed nerves and muscle and sinew.

The cuff is stuck.

Iaso pulled. Shimmied and pulled again.

A guttural roar shook the ground.

Two hands grabbed my forearm, adding fuel to the fire already scorching my flesh.

I collapsed. Blacked out. Woke up too soon, just in time to feel my hand being flayed.

A sickening, wet pop, and the shackle slid another inch.

Blood everywhere, warm and slick.

That roar grew louder—louder than the incessant screaming.

I couldn’t feel my fingers. I didn’t try to move them.

I didn’t try to move anything.

Sweat clung to my skin, nausea heavy in my gut. My head swam in a realm that knew only agony. Nothing else. Darkness and pain, and it was inescapable.

Another quick tug. Another tear.

My hand went numb. This was almost worse than the pain—too cold, too wrong.

Metal slid over my knuckles, then it was over.

Iaso tossed the shackle to the side.

I’m out. I’m free.

I didn’t bother looking at the mess. I couldn’t.

I couldn’t even open my eyes.