Se connecter**CALISTA**The pole was the only thing keeping me upright. My wrists burned against the ropes binding them behind the cold metal, legs trembling beneath my own weight as my body sagged forward. A violent shiver tore through me, forcing my teeth into my bleeding lip just to keep them from chattering.I had stopped praying for rescue.Now I was only praying for the courage not to break. My lungs felt as if someone had reached into my chest and grabbed hold of them, squeezing tight without mercy. Nausea clawed at my throat, but I clenched my stomach and tried to keep my eyes open, to not feel the goosebumps crawling over my skin.My scalp still burned from Lily's vicious grip, but I lifted my head up as a tear snuck its way down my cheek.Nobody was coming to save me. Too much time had passed since I saw Atlas, since he cradled me in his arms like he was scared to break me.Now my body itched for the warmth of his hard chest, his hairy hands cradling me deeper into his embrace. God…
**ATLAS**My mother used to measure my height against the kitchen doorframe, beaming with pride every time I outgrew the pencil mark she had made the year before. Standing before me now, wearing that same smile as she admired the chains biting into my wrists, I found myself wondering whether people truly rotted from the inside—or whether they simply woke up one morning and decided to bury whatever was left of their hearts.For my mother, it must have been the latter. And sitting in this chair, I found it almost ironic that I had run so far from this place only to be dragged right back in chains. Maybe we never really outrun our demons. We just ran in circles around them until they reached out to grab us. But my bones had grown weary from running, with every word Ledger said still clouding my mind even as his face paled and the smell of his blood hung in the air. I did not flinch under her stare, meeting it with all the anger that I could muster. “Do you ever get tired of playing
**CALISTA**My mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton and left it out in the sun.I swallowed and immediately regretted it, feeling a sharp pain blooming behind my eyes—the kind that came after too much alcohol, too little sleep, or a tranquilizer dart fired into your arm by your fiancé's psychotic ex fiancée.For a moment, I lay perfectly still, waiting for my wrists to burn, waiting for the ropes, the cuffs, the chains…anything.Instead, when my hand drifted sluggishly toward my face, my fingers brushed my cheek without resistance.I froze.Then I moved again, slowly and carefully lifting my left hand, then my right. Free.Free?A knot tightened in my stomach. If the Martyrs wanted me restrained, I would be restrained, which meant they had chosen not to tie me up.And somehow, that felt much worse, and I found myself longing for the chains and the certainty of death. But it was not even my freedom that sent my pulse racing. It was the complete absence of blood on my ha
**ATLAS**I had spent so much time wishing for unconsciousness that I almost resented it for never staying.The first thing I noticed was that the pain never faded away. The second was that I was still unclad, save for my underwear. If I was grateful for anything, it was that my hand no longer hung above my head in chains—instead they rested on the metal armrests The darkness came and went, and every time consciousness dragged me back to the surface, I was reminded of the stinging at my back, my throbbing side, the metallic taste of my own blood…and the deep breathing of a man fighting to stay alive. I could not see him, but I could hear him—every ragged breath, every shift of his chains, every reminder that my last conversation with the woman who birthed me would not stay buried. Every time the darkness dragged me under, Ledger’s breathing dragged me back into the silence— so rough, so uneven, so…painfully human. I latched on to the sound like the last anchor in a raging storm,
**CALISTA**The first thing I smelled when I woke up was blood.So much blood that it sent nausea tearing through my stomach. For one horrible second, I thought the bullet had found me after all. The burning in my side intensified with every bump of my body, and I winced, waiting for the darkness to take me again. Then engine oil invaded my lungs, thick and bitter, and my eyes snapped open.I realised that I was lying face flat on what seemed to be the rusty floor of a moving vehicle. My ears picked up the steady hum of the engine, and I curled my feet to my chest to still my racing heart. My hands were bound behind my back, so tight that my wrists had started to burn, and my shoulders had started to ache. I sucked in a breath, but it only tasted like copper.I tried to remember where I was, or what happened…but all I could hear in my mind was the gunshot, and the thud of my body hitting the ground.Gunshot. Oh god—I puffed out my chest, wincing at the heat burning my side, waiti
**ATLAS**Pain had a voice, a rhythm, a pulse—and with every fresh slice of Lily's blade carving through my skin, it screamed louder for me to scream back.By the twentieth cut, I stopped counting the wounds and started counting the seconds between them, because anticipation hurt almost as much as the blade.Every new slice along my back felt like fire dragged through flesh, but if Felicia Kane wanted a scream, a grunt, or so much as a sigh, she was going to have to carve it out of my corpse.Through the blurriness in my vision, I made out my mother's frame just standing there, arms folded as the wet sound of skin tearing open filled the room.The cuts were not deep—no. My mother was not the type to cut to the bone, and from the nimble movement of Lily's hand along my back, it was obvious that she was no stranger to the Martyrs. I listened to the steady drop of my life's blood on the wooden floor and held my breath so I did not have to smell it.Darkness chewed at my vision, and I s
**CALISTA**My eyes fluttered open like they did not belong to me—and the silence that met me felt too big, too empty, settling into my chest before I could understand why it hurt.It was like the world had ended while I was unconscious, and no one had bothered to wake me for it.My head throbbed s
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” ~Kahlil Gibran**CALISTA**My hands rested in my lap, but they felt like something I had borrowed and forgotten how to return.Everything felt borrowed—my body, my thoughts, my memories—no
**MERRICK**I had my whole day planned out. None of it involved the buzzing in my pocket and the sinking feeling that something had gone awfully wrong. I was told that Calista was alive, and my world had lost all colour. I almost punched a hole through the glass at the shopping mall, but that woul
**CALISTA**The waves were wrong—no, they were right—no, they were not waves at all.They rose and fell like they were breathing—too slow, too deep—like they were waiting for something—waiting for me—but the water never touched my feet.Instead there was sand, and it tickled my toes as the warm sun







