Page 31 of The Quoram Effect

A numbness silenced the chaos roaring through my mind, calming my writhing body. And before an unexpected darkness swept in, my lips murmured the words I was too scared to admit.

“Please forgive me, Torz. I love you.”

Chapter Sixteen

I stood at my apartment window, looking out over Delta Ring. Several sections of my mind suddenly argued about what had just happened.

It must’ve been a dream. A bad fever dream.

“It wasn’t a dream, Remi.”

Horrified, I twisted towards the voice. The Damson God sat in the plush chair he always occupied in my dreams, sipping his glass of wine.

I shot my gaze to the familiarity of my lounge—the sofa strewn with mismatched cushions, the wood-veneered coffee table, my reading light next to the photo of my mum. “But I should be on Titus. This is a dream.”

“Yes. But what happened with Russo was far from it.”

I glanced down at the area where Russo had injected me. It stung as if the needle was still embedded and left to hang from my arm. If it hadn’t been a dream, what the hell had he injected me with? I’d passed out. Q had never caused me to pass out before. Unless…unless the dose was substantial, causing me to overdose…

“Am I dead?” I muttered, inspecting my shaking hands as if they could offer the answer.

“You wouldn’t be dreaming if you were.”

I clenched my fists. His patronising tone infuriated me, igniting a fire full of scorn and anger. “Stop with the cryptic answers. Tell me what the fuck happened?”

As if reality came searing back, a pain so vicious tore through my chest, shredding at my lungs, my heart. The agony was so deep, it flared and carved out the pit of my stomach where—I swallowed hard, my body trembling—where the bridge to Torz lay.

“What’s happening?” I whispered, petrified our bond was untethering, that I was finally losing my connection to him.

The Damson God was standing before me now, steadying my stance with a gentle hand on my shoulder. Through glassy eyes, I peered up at him, pleading for answers.

“He’s just found you,” he said.

My own emotions writhed and twisted, clashing with those Torz was bombarding me with. I gripped the Damson God’s arm as another burst of torment slashed across the bond like a flurry of barbed bullets, weakening me to the point of collapse.

“After the last meeting you and Torz had with Nikos Russo, he’s been monitoring Torz’s activity. He’s overly aware of those Torz is prioritising his time with, and the implications the relationship poses.”

Rubbing my stomach, I scrunched my face in despair. “He’s found out about Zuli’s manifesto.”

The deity hummed. “Indeed. He’s not happy.”

“But Torz doesn’t endorse it.”

“You know that. I know that. Russo doesn’t.”

“Can’t you intervene?” I scowled up at the towering figure, whose silver eyebrows shot up in shocked amusement. “You’re a god. End all this shit. All of it. Surely, Zuli can be stopped.”

He shook his head. “That’s not possible. I only have influence where my Damsons are concerned.”

“You have to be shitting me!”

“No, Remi, I’m notshittingyou or shittingonyou. Gods do not interfere in the world of human antics.”

I stared out the window, lost in horrifying visions of Torz being hunted down by Russo’s men. Of him being brutally injured whilst protecting Marla from Puran attackers. Of Zuli condemning him in front of the whole governing body if he chose to oppose her and her deplorable plan.

I’d die if I lost him.

From the grieving pain Torz was flooding me with, was it possible he felt the same for me?