Page 147 of Chasing Ruin
Her forehead presses against mine.
Grounding. Steady, but not enough.
Her hands move quickly, tugging at the hem of my cut. She folds it and brings it up to my mouth. “Bite,” she whispers.
I clamp down hard, teeth sinking into the leather as another wave of pulsing pain crashes through me. A broken sound vibrates in my throat, muffled, raw.
Behind her, the woman moves fast.
The cutter is on the ground, wedged against the bolt at my wrist. She uses her foot for leverage and kicks it hard.
One side breaks free, and my hand drops uselessly, twitching against the floor.
She circles around, and another sharp crack sounds.
The second restraint gives way.
Still, my arms won’t move. They lie there. Heavy and useless. Trembling with aftershocks of pain that refuse to fade.
I suck in a ragged breath, the worst of it slowly ebbing—just enough that I’m not drowning in it anymore.
But even the little taste of freedom my arms have gained is not enough. Not nearly enough.
Because Charlotte’s right here. Pressed against me. Wiping away my tears as her own fall mercilessly.
And I still can’t fucking hold her.
“Fuck.” The woman’s voice echoes against the walls. “We… we gotta go. Let’s move. Now!”
Charlotte looks up at her, confused yet slightly grateful. “M-Mistress.”
Is that her name? Fuck it. I don’t care who she is as long as she’s getting us out of here.
The woman looks at my Charlotte, her body shuddering with every breath. But her face is blank. “We don’t have time for this. Move!”
My girl flinches before reluctantly disentangling herself from me.
They both help me up. My legs screaming with throbbing pain of disuse.
I grit my teeth through it all.
Then we’re walking. Or at least they are.
I’m simply limping, holding the bars with my numb hands as I walk past desperate looking men and women.
Charlotte clings to my one side.
“I’ll come back for them,” the woman says, loud enough. “But you gotta get out of here. I heard they were moving the two of you because of the breach.”
“Breach?” I ask, my voice surprisingly steady.
She glances back briefly. “Looks like Charlotte was right. Her brother brought an army of his own for her.”
I ignore the bitterness lining her words. Focusing on putting one injured foot in front of the other.
Wolf’s here. That’s what matters.
My vision swims every now and then. Blackness creeping in while bile rises in my throat.
