Freedom was one step away.
All I had to do was turn and leave. I knew the way to the witches. They could come back and get Troy and be prepared for whatever he had in store for them.
And it probably wouldn’t kill him.
So why the hell was I kneeling beside him?
“You’re not breathing,” I snapped, glaring down at him as I examined the trap’s hold. My voice was colder than it needed to be, but I was furious—at him, at me. “You want me to believe you’re too tough to die but too weak to inhale?”
“Maybe because I was thinking you’d leave me,” he muttered, his tone a bitter stab meant to wound. My gaze dropped to the blood streaking down his leg.
The wound was bad—but not fatal.
“I should,” I said flatly, turning my attention to the spell choking him. The magic pulsed like a second heartbea
