Ryland
They took her.
Wheeled her out while she screamed—writhing, broken—and all I could do was watch. Useless. Shackled to the wall, my arms burned where the silver ate into my flesh. My skin melted away, blood soaking the floor beneath me, and still I thrashed, screamed, fought—because I knew.
I felt it.
The bond. Fading. Thread by thread.
Amara’s warning echoes through my skull like a death knell. If she dies, he ends the world.
I failed.
I feel it snap—like a blade plunged into my chest, cleaving me open—and the scream that tears from my throat doesn’t sound like mine. It sounds like death. I feel her final breath.
Evelyn is gone.
And I was the one who let her die.
Footsteps approach. The door opens.
A man in a lab coat walks in. Young—twenties maybe—but the hatred in his e
