(Apollo & Adelaide)
“I owe him,” she said quietly.
Apollo’s jaw went rigid.
The words tasted wrong, even to her, but they were true.
“Why?” His fingers tightened. “What debt outweighs mine?”
You don’t own me, she wanted to snap. But the cross’s phantom ache in her shoulders said otherwise. The bond coiled through her ribs said otherwise. The melted bindings at her wrists said otherwise, too.
“He kept me alive,” she said instead. “For you.”
That made him still.
Her voice shook, but she forced herself to keep going. “You walked away when I was…” She swallowed. “When I didn’t know if I could keep breathing without something breaking. He brought water. He eased the ropes. He—he put the cloth under my shoulders so the wood wouldn’t cut into my skin. If he hadn’t, I…” She l
