Burn Them All

Chapter 3

Elyse Pov

“Come now, Elyse.” Papa stepped inside like he owned the place. Like he had any right to be here. “It’s time to come home.”

Home. The word was poison on his tongue.

“Get out.” My voice shook, but I held my ground. “You don’t get to call anywhere home. Not after what you did.”

“What did I?” He smiled, and I remembered that smile. The one he’d worn when he’d thrown Mama and me out. Cold. Calculating. “I protected my family. My reputation.”

“I was your family!”

“You were a curse.” He moved closer, and I backed away instinctively. “But curses can have their uses. I’ve finally figured out yours.”

The guards at the door shifted, blocking any escape. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

He lunged. His hand closed around my wrist like a vice, yanking me forward. I stumbled, off-balance, and he used my momentum to drag me toward the door.

“No!” I tried to wrench free, clawing at his grip. “Let me go!”

“Stop making a scene.”

“Help!” I screamed toward the open door, toward the street beyond. “Someone help me!”

But no one came. I could see them out there, neighbors, people who’d seen me walking with Jason, who’d watched us build a life together. They turned away. Closed their doors. Pretended not to hear.

Of course they did. Why would they help the monster?

“Please.” I changed tactics, desperation making my voice crack. “Please, Papa. I can’t go with you. I can’t…”

“You’ll do as you’re told.”

“I’m pregnant!”

The words burst out of me, raw and pleading. My last card, my only card. Surely even he wouldn’t

His grip tightened. “Then we’ll deal with that too.”

Ice flooded my veins.

“No. No, you can’t…”

He dragged me through the door. I dug my heels in, but he was stronger, and the guards were there, grabbing my other arm, lifting me off my feet.

“No! Stop! Please!”

The cart waited in the street. They threw me inside like cargo, and I landed hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. I scrambled toward the opening, but Papa slammed the door shut. The lock clicked.

“Let me out!” I pounded on the wood, my fists aching. “Let me out!”

The cart lurched forward.

I threw myself against the door again and again, screaming until my throat was raw. But the cart kept moving, carrying me away from Jason’s house, away from the last place I’d been happy, away from everything.

I sank to the floor, hands pressed against my stomach. Protecting what I couldn’t protect. What I’d already failed to protect.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the baby. To Jason. To myself. “I’m so sorry.”

-----

The cell was smaller than I remembered.

Or maybe I was just bigger now. Older. More breakable.

Papa had thrown me into the same dungeon where the village had kept me after Mama died. The same stone walls. The same iron door. The same darkness that pressed against my lungs like water.

I’d spent three years here once, three years of torture and starvation and learning what it meant to be truly alone.

At least then I’d had Mama’s memory to keep me warm. Her voice in my head, reminding me I was loved. That I was more than what they said I was.

Now I had nothing.

Jason was dead. Our baby was…

No. I couldn’t think like that. The baby was still alive. Still there. Still mine.

I had to protect it. Had to find a way out before..

The door opened.

I scrambled to my feet, pressing myself against the far wall. Papa entered, flanked by a guard carrying a torch. The light hurt my eyes after hours in the darkness.

“Two days,” Papa said, studying me like I was livestock. “Two days to think about your situation. Have you come to your senses?”

“Please.” My voice cracked. “Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone you took me. I’ll leave the territory, go somewhere you’ll never…”

“You really think this is about you?” He laughed, and the sound scraped against my bones. “This is about opportunity. A buyer contacted me three days ago. A member of the Elite, looking for someone with… unique abilities. Someone expendable.”

“No.”

“He’s offering enough gold to set up my next five generations. Do you know how rare that is? How valuable you’ve suddenly become?”

“I won’t go. You can’t make me…”

“I can. And I will.” He stepped closer. “But first, we need to handle that complication you mentioned.”

The blood drained from my face.

“The bastard,” he continued, his tone conversational. “We can’t have you damaged goods, can we? The buyer wants you intact. Useful. A pregnant witch is neither.”

“No.” I pressed harder against the wall, as if I could merge with the stone. “No, please. Please don’t…”

“Hold her.”

The guard moved before I could react. Strong hands grabbed my arms, yanking them behind my back, forcing me to my knees.

“Papa, please!” Tears streamed down my face. “Please, it’s your grandchild! Your blood!”

“My blood?” His eyes were ice. “You stopped being my blood the day you were born wrong.”

He pulled out a small pouch from his robes. Even in the dim light, I recognized it. Black magic components. Forbidden rituals.

“Don’t do this.” My voice broke completely. “I’m begging you. Kill me instead. Take everything else but please, please don’t…”

He began chanting.

The words were old. Dark. They slithered through the air like living things, wrapping around my chest, my stomach, my womb.

“No!” I thrashed against the guard’s grip, but he held firm. “Stop! STOP!”

The spell hit me like a wall.

My limbs went numb instantly. Not the normal numbness of a sleeping limb, but something worse. Something unnatural. I could see my arms, my legs, but they wouldn’t respond. Wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t obey.

I was trapped in my own body.

“There.” Papa knelt in front of me, his face calm. Satisfied. “Much better. Can’t have you fighting this.”

Fighting what? What was he

The cramping started.

Low in my belly, a sharp twist that stole my breath. Then another. And another.

No. No, no, no…

“The spell will take care of everything,” Papa said, standing. “Clean. Efficient. No mess.”

I tried to scream, but my jaw wouldn’t work. Tried to curl around my stomach, protect the baby, but my body wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t do anything but kneel there, helpless, while something tore apart inside me.

The pain intensified. A burning, ripping sensation that went deeper than flesh. Deeper than bone.

They were killing my baby.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but feel it happening.

Tears poured down my face, hot and useless. My mouth moved silently, forming the same word over and over: please, please, please.

But there was no one to hear. No one to save us.

Warmth spread between my legs. Blood. I could smell it, metallic and wrong.

The cramping got worse. Wave after wave, each one stronger than the last. Each one is taking more of my baby away.

Jason’s baby. The last piece of him I had left.

Papa watched with clinical detachment, like he was observing an interesting experiment. “Almost done now.”

I wanted to claw his eyes out. Wanted to burn him with the power he’d always feared, turn him to ash and scatter him to the wind.

But I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t do anything but bleed.

The pain reached a crescendo, something sharp and final that tore through my core. Then a terrible, hollow emptiness that was somehow worse than the pain.

Gone.

The baby was gone.

My vision blurred. Not from tears this time, but from something else. The world tilted sideways, and I realized I was falling. The guard let me go, and I crumpled to the floor like a broken doll.

Blood pooled beneath me, spreading across the stone.

“Clean this up,” Papa said to the guard, his voice distant now. Muffled. “And get the healer. Can’t have her dying before the sale.”

Sale. Right. He was selling me.

Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Jason was dead. Our baby was dead. I was already a corpse, just one that hadn’t stopped breathing yet.

The darkness at the edges of my vision crept closer. Closer.

I let it come.

Let it swallow me whole, drag me down into oblivion where I didn’t have to feel this anymore. Didn’t have to exist in a world where fathers murdered their grandchildren and no one came to help.

The last thing I felt was the cold stone against my cheek.

The last thing I thought was: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Then nothing.