Page 42 of Wrathful King

If I was dreaming, surely I’d pick something better to wear.

My skin was irritated, and I could feel it flaking off me. Groggy, freezing, and uncomfortable, I looked around my cell. Filth, blood, dead bodies.

“Cinnamon girl, it’s me.” I recognized his voice. It was deep, dark, and… deceitful.

My throat tightened, and just as I was about to start hyperventilating, a loudboomsounded.

“We have to grab her and go,” Darius whispered. “We don’t have much time. Perez has been disarmed, but his men don’t know that yet.”

Perez has been… Did that mean he wouldn’t hurt me anymore? Couldn’t? I inhaled a sharp breath. I should jump to my feet and run to the men who’d come to save me, yet all I could do was think, with absolute terror, that it was all an illusion. A fever dream, no matter how real they looked and sounded.

I’d wake up and that sinking feeling would crush me again.

My tremors were back and my teeth rattled louder than ever.

“Are her pupils—” Amon didn’t finish.

“Yes. Look at what they’ve done to her arms too.” I pulled my mangled arms behind my back, right hand clasping over my left wrist, and felt my shoulders drop in shame. “Grab her and let’s go.”

Boots stomped my way on the stone floor, and the crunching of dirt and rubble sent my heart flying into my throat. I shook violently with each approaching step. The roaring of my heartbeat drowned out every other sound, and when another bomb went off, I barely heard it.

“Fuck, I think she’s scared of me.” His voice, those words, reverberated through me, but it was his shattered tone that reflected the pain in my chest. It was enough to finally give me pause.

Eyes wide, I stared up at my savior—my… husband, and I felt my nerves pinball through my broken body. A sob ratcheted up my throat, muffled by my hand. I was on the verge of fainting, being sick all over my prison floor, when his face came but an inch from mine.

It felt like staring up at a night sky full of glittering stars.

“I’m taking you home, cinnamon girl.” He spoke so softly, my heart shuddered with longing. “Do you know who I am?”

His eyes were locked on me as if he was convinced I’d vanish into thin air.

“Amon.” Utter relief whooshed from his mouth in a drawn-out sigh and he fell to his knees in front of me. I swallowed, raw emotions scratching at my throat. I didn’t want to feel them. I didn’t want to remember him.

“Fuck, baby.” His voice was gentle, vulnerable. “I’m so happy I found you.”

A whimper burst from me.

He stood and lifted me into his arms, holding me so tightly that I could hardly breathe. “Fuck, you’re so cold.”

Amon placed soft kisses all over my cheek, pulling me tight to his chest and rocking me. His hands roamed over my clammy skin in an attempt to warm me up. How could he stand to touch me when I was disgusting, unworthy, ruined…?

“We need to go, Amon.” Darius’s voice shook slightly, drawing my eyes to him while my husband shed his jacket and wrapped it around me.

“Hold on, cinnamon girl.” He stood up, his grip tightening on me. He swallowed over and over again, fighting to keep it together. His dark eyes were flooded with tears, making them shimmer in the dark. “I’m taking you home.”

He couldn’t know that my demons would follow me anywhere, even home.

16

AMON

“How is she?” Dante asked from the passenger seat, concern marring his face. He eyed Reina’s unconscious body. Darius was behind the wheel, the Jeep rocking uncontrollably as we made our way back through the jungle.

Perez was bound with chains in the vehicle ahead of us, his mouth muffled and his eyes blindfolded.

And my wife… She was out cold in my arms. When we’d rushed up the stairs and out the front door, Reina had spotted the women—the ones we hadn’t been able to save—and lost her shit. She came at us all, biting and scratching, leaving us no choice but to sedate her.

My finger hadn’t lifted from her pulse once, petrified that destiny would be so cruel and fucked up as to take her away from me just when we finally reunited.