Page 65 of The Chosen
When I woke up in my cabin in Maine all those weeks ago to find Ariana gone, I swore I’d never do anything to intentionally put her in harm’s way again.
And here I was, doing exactly that.
“I can do it,” Blake suggested somewhat hesitantly.
“No.” I snapped my eyes toward his, my voice echoing in the vacant space. “I’ll fucking do it.”
I refocused my attention on Ariana, caressing the underside of her wrist once more before yanking at the tie, tightening it so it bit into her skin. She yelped, and I spun her around to face me.
“Is it too tight? I can?—”
“It’s fine. I can’t show up at the drop without marks on my wrists. Not if you want this guy to believe I’ve been held hostage for the past several weeks. Now put that gag on me so we can get this done.”
I heaved a sigh, my heart physically aching at the mere thought. But the sooner I got on with it, the sooner we could be done.
But that also meant the sooner I could lose her.
Blake approached and handed me the rag. I took it from him, then faced Ariana once more.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked her for what felt like the hundredth time.
She didn’t waver. Didn’t hesitate. Just gave a single, determined nod, her gaze remaining locked on mine. “I’m fine.”
I squeezed my eyes shut again before bringing the material up to her mouth, my hands physically shaking.
After learning what Victor had done, how she spent the past ten years trapped in a prison, silently screaming for someone to finally realize what was going on, the last thing I wanted to do was take away her voice. And that was what this felt like.
Like I was depriving her of the one thing she fought so hard to regain.
“It’s okay,” she assured me yet again.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I placed the rag over her open mouth and tied it behind her head, the sound of the fabric being knotted seeming to reverberate around me. I stepped back to make sure she was okay, struggling to keep it together when I looked at her like this.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her tied up and gagged. Hell, this was how she looked when I’d rescued her from that dingy warehouse all those weeks ago.
But that was different. So much had changed since then. And seeing her like this now tore at a part of me I didn’t think existed anymore.
“Okay?” I asked, especially when I noticed her chest rising and falling in an increasing rhythm. “Ariana, are you okay?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, her breathing became ragged, as if struggling to capture any air.
I ripped the gag off her, tossing it onto the floor as I yanked my knife out of my pocket.
“It’s too much,” I declared vehemently. “We’re not doing this. You’re not doing this.”
I brought my knife up to her zipties, about to cut her free, but before I could, she spun around, preventing me from doing so. “I’m fine.”
“No, Ariana. You’re not. You?—”
“I said I’m fine,” she hissed. “I’m doing this. Put it back on.”
“I’m not doing it, Ariana. Not when you?—”
“Henry,” she interjected. “Either you do it or Blake will. And what did you just say? If anyone’s going to bind and gag me, it’s you? So get on with it. Every second we wait could be the difference between life and death.”
“Please, Ariana…,” I choked out, a boulder weighing down my chest. “We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to. I choose to. It’s my choice. Don’t deprive me of my choice.”
