Victoria's POV
Sylas's body shook with the strain, his knees almost giving out beneath him, but he refused to stop. The muscles in his arms and neck stood out sharply, veins raised as he pulled against the chains with everything he had. Sweat ran down his face, his jaw locked tight as he forced himself to endure the pain. One shackle gave way, then another. He kept going until, at last, the restraints snapped free.
His hands paid the price.
I stared at them in horror. They were red and raw, blistered and burned so badly they barely looked like hands anymore.
"Y-Your hands..." I whispered, my voice breaking as a soft sob slipped out. My chest tightened at the sight. Those hands had always been strong, steady, capable. Now they were ruined by the silver, damaged in a way I did not know
