جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 80

ElenaDarkness comes back in pieces. Not all at once. Slow. Heavy. Like I’m being dragged up from somewhere deep, and I don’t quite want to reach the surface.My head throbs. My body feels wrong. Too heavy. Too slow. For a second, I don’t move. I just breathe. In and out, in and out, in…. Something is off. Cold. Hard beneath me. Not my bed. Not the penthouse. Not safe.My eyes snap open. Dark ceiling. Unfamiliar. Wrong. Everything comes back at once. The restaurant. The explosion. The chaos. Cillian…My breath catches sharply. I try to sit up, and pain shoots through my arms. I freeze. Look down. My wrists are bound. Tight. Rough material digging into my skin. My heart starts racing. Fast. Too fast. No. No no no…I pull against the restraints instinctively. The rope bites deeper. My breath turns uneven. Panic claws its way up my chest, sharp and immediate, threatening to take over everything. This is real. Thi

Cillian The city smells like smoke.It sticks to my skin. My clothes. My lungs. Every breath I take tastes like ash and blood and something unfinished.Good. Let it burn. I don’t remember leaving the restaurant. One second I was there, dragging men by their collars, smashing faces into tables, demanding answers they didn’t have, and the next I’m in the back of the car, my hands still covered in blood that isn’t mine.Or maybe it is. Doesn’t matter. None of it matters except one thing. Elena. The name sits in my chest like a loaded weapon. Ronan is in the front seat. Quiet for once. His usual bullshit gone. His arm is wrapped, blood seeping through the bandage, but he hasn’t said a word about it.Liam is beside him. Still. Watching everything. Calculating. Declan’s voice echoes in my head from earlier. This wasn’t random. I know. I felt it the second the

Elena They don’t give me time to think. Hands grip my arms again, tighter this time, less patient. Whatever conversation just happened in that room, it changed something. I feel it in the way they move. Sharper. Faster. Like they don’t want to linger here anymore.Good. That means pressure. That means cracks.“Up,” one of them snaps, yanking me to my feet.My legs almost fold under me. This time it’s not entirely an act. The drug still lingers, my body slow to respond, muscles heavy and uncooperative. Pain shoots up from my wrists where the rope digs deeper as they pull me forward.I let myself stumble. Not fully. Just enough.“Christ,” the man mutters, tightening his hold when I sway. “She’s useless like this.”“She’ll walk,” another one replies. “Or we drag her. I don’t care.”I lowe

Elena The van doesn’t stop for a long time. Or maybe it does. Maybe it slows. Turns. Pauses. Starts again. I can’t tell anymore. Time slips in the dark. There are no windows. No light. Just the constant vibration under my knees and the chains digging into my wrists every time the van shifts. My shoulders ache from the position. My neck feels stiff, my head still throbbing where he hit me.I count at first. Seconds. Minutes. I lose track somewhere along the way. So I switch. Breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Stay here. Stay present. Don’t drift. Don’t let the dark pull you under. The van jerks again, sharper this time, and then slows and stops.My body tenses immediately. This is it. The engine cuts. Silence drops heavy. Voices outside. Doors opening. Boots on gravel this time, not concrete. New place. New environment. My pulse spikes, but I force it down. In. Out.The back doors swing open

Elena POVI wake up choking on pain. Not from sleep. I don’t think I was sleeping. I don’t think my body knows how to sleep in here. It just shuts down in small pieces, then drags me back up when the pain gets too loud.My arms are still chained above me. That’s the first thing I understand. Then the rest comes back. Cold wall against my back. Concrete under my knees. Metal biting into my wrists. Shoulders are burning like someone has poured fire into the joints and left it there. My head hangs forward, hair sticking to my damp face, my own breath scraping out of me too shallow, too fast.Every part of me hurts. My ribs pulse with each inhale, deep and sharp. My cheek feels swollen. My lip is split. My throat is dry from breathing through panic, and I keep refusing to call it panic. I try to shift my weight, just a little, and pain shoots down both arms so suddenly that a broken sound slips out of me before I can swallow it.The sound ec