Page 134 of Chasing Ruin
I stretch more. My fingertips brush his warm ankle.
He’s alive.
A sob rips through me, violent and shuddering. Relief crashes into me so hard it leaves me dizzy. My entire body sags.
He’s here and I can touch him.
My fingers curl weakly around his ankle, like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go.
Everything crashes in at once. The fear. The pain. The exhaustion. It drags me under like a tide I can’t fight.
My cheek rubs against the filthy ground, my arm still stretched through the bars, my hand clinging to him like he’s the only thing tethering me to reality.
And slowly, helplessly, I slip into a fitful, broken sleep.
??????
A rough yank at my hand tears me out of whatever fractured sleep I’d fallen into.
I gasp, scrambling back, my heart slamming violently against my ribs as panic claws its way up my throat.
“Well, isn’t this absolutely adorable.” Scar’s voice echoes off the stone walls, warped with amusement. The sound of his laugh splits something open inside me.
“No.” I don’t even realize I’ve spoken as I scramble backward, my body moving on pure instinct. I hit the far wall of the cell hard, breath knocking out of me as I try to put as much distance between us as possible.
He watches me with an infuriating smirk. Lazy. Unbothered. Like I’m entertainment.
His fingers tap lightly against the lock of my cell.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Then he pulls out a key, and I freeze.
No. Fuck no.
The metal clicks. Loud. Final. And the bars creak open.
My lungs seize. Air thins, vanishing from around me as panic sets in fast and suffocating. I try to breathe, but it won’t come.
A shadow moves behind him.
Before I can react, a rough hand fists into my hair and yanks.
A scream rips out of me as I’m dragged forward, my body too weak to fight properly. My arms are wrenched behind me, something cold biting into my wrists as they’re locked in place.
Everything feels wrong. Heavy. Slow.
My limbs don’t respond the way they should. My vision blurs at the edges, a hazy dizziness threatening to swallow me whole.
Scar crouches in front of me, his movements almost gentle as his fingers curl under my chin, forcing my face up.
I whimper, trying to turn away, trying to look past him, to find Theo.
His grip tightens. “Uh-uh-uh,” he murmurs softly, almost playful. “You keep looking at me, princess.”
