“Hello?” I call out, my hands gripping the bars of the cell as I try to peer down the flame-lit hallway. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” I cry, wincing as my voice echoes back to me.
Echo.
I clamp my eyes shut, leaning my forehead against the metal bar as pain overtakes me again. It keeps coming in waves, crashing right over my head and sending me sprawling and choking.
“Let me out,” I call, but my heart isn’t even in it, and my voice is already scratchy from yelling the same things many times before. As far as I can tell, no one else is down here, and there’s no one to hear my pleas.
Dragging myself away from the bars, I settle on top of the metal frame that’s nothing but a hellish exam table posing as a bed. I really hope its presence in this place isn’t foreshadowing anything. Wiping my feet free of dirt and grit, I’m really regretting that whole angry shoe toss I did earlier, because I’m pretty sure I’m going to step on something and catch some form of hepatitis or tetanus or both. Plus, it’s kind of cold.
I lie down on my back, but when my wings touch the smooth metal, it sends a weird, unfamiliar sensation through me that I’ve never experienced before. I cringe away, turning onto my side, and hug my knees against my chest with a shudder.
So many questions swirl in my head. I have no idea where I am. I’m pretty sure I’m in Hell still, but am I dead? Did I end up in Nihil—the Center Ring of Hell? Or am I in some jail for demons who try to go places they’re not supposed to?
My chest aches for everything I’ve been through and lost in the last twenty-four hours. I’m not even sure how to process anything. With nothing else to distract me, the memories of the fight assault me. Jerif’s last plea is like a broken record beating on my eardrums.
Don’t let me die for nothing. Run.
He knew, right then and there, that was it for him. Maybe if I’d been paying more attention, I would’ve seen that same grim look of acceptance on all of the guys’ faces. But I just couldn’t fathom it. Even when we were overrun, I thought we could get away. The four of them are larger than life. Powerful. Other. So fucking special that I couldn’t really even begin to believe that they could possibly die.
But we didn’t stand a chance. Five against hundreds? Thousands? I was so fucking naive. So totally unprepared.
Bring her to the Ophidian.
The memory of those words being growled makes the hairs rise up on my arms. Something or somebody wants me. They attacked us, killed my demons, because those Outer Ringers were told to come get me.
How the fuck did they even know I was there in the first place? And more importantly, why? Why me? What the Hell could anyone possibly want from me?
These questions plague me, but try as I might, I don’t fucking know the answers, and I have no way of finding out. I have no one to ask. I’m so terrified and brokenhearted that it feels like I’m being weighed down with cement blocks and water is slowly, threateningly, rising up from my feet. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before I can’t breathe anymore and everything is over for me.
I can’t help but wonder what’s happening with the Hellgate. I know I didn’t really want anything to do with it, but now, I feel some sort of kinship to the damn thing. We both lost who we were counting on to stabilize us.
Is the Gate broken beyond repair? Are imps and Outer Ring demons pouring out into the mortal world right now as I’m stuck here? Am I still a Gate Guardian even though I was never inducted?
My gray eyes blink at the spikes on the wall across from me as I stare off into space, questions swirling in my head. The metal is black and rough, and there are stains in some of the crevices between the sharp points. Not only does it look intimidating as hell, but it also makes all the sound in the room muffled, as if whoever built it wanted to make sure your own sobs suffocated in the air, not allowed to drift out.
That’s exactly what I feel like—like the sadness is going to smother me.
What would Jerif do if he knew that he would die just for me to end up here?
It makes me angry on his behalf. He wanted me to get away, not to be stuck in this place. I need to get out. But my one and only weapon is gone. The scythe dropped right out of my hands, and I didn’t get to see what happened to it before I was dragged into this cell.
Exhaustion tugs at my eyes, making my lids feel heavy. I try to fight it because it terrifies me to sleep in this place and to be caught unaware. So I force myself to get up and pace again, but the soreness in my body screams at me to sit back down.
I grip the bars, yelling once more, shouting words that get swallowed up in the darkness. Defeated and utterly drained, I lie down on the bed again, and then I just cry. My tears go hot and cold. My body sweats and shivers. My mind whirls until my overflowing emotions make me go numb instead.
A long time passes by the time my heavy lids take over, shutting my burning eyes against my will. Sweeping the last of my tears away, my eyes force me into sleep, like I’ve been strong-armed in a wrestling contest and the only thing I can do is tap out.
I dream about them dying over and over again.
I wake
