Chapter 167

Lila

The nightmares kept me from truly resting. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back inside the palace, walls glowing orange with heat, ceiling beams shrieking as they gave way.

Damon’s voice was there, always just out around the next corner, swallowed by the roar of flames. His howl split the air, wild and feral, until the sound brought the entire palace down around me.

My body ached remembering every stone I’d stumbled over in the escape. But worse than the pain was the quiet and loneliness.

I reached inward, searching instinctively for Ruby. But there was still barely any trace of her. It was as though the fire had burned her away entirely.

The absence left me hollow. Less than whole.

I sat up on the cot, the thin blanket tangled around my legs and pressed my fingers into my temples to relieve the tension.

My breath came shallow, ragged. I hated the sound of it. Hated how small it made me feel.

The outpost was nothing more than a box of wood and stone, shuttered tight against the outside world. I told myself it was safe; that Ronan had chosen this place because no one would look for me here.

But to me it felt like just another prison cell, though much smaller, colder, far less comfortable.

I got up and paced, feet padding over the uneven floorboards. My hand brushed against the wall, following the rough grain. Every creak, every rustle outside sent me spinning toward the door, heart slamming against my ribs.

I imagined Damon’s guards bursting through, their rough hands dragging me back through the forest, back to the palace, back into my cage.

The thought turned my stomach.

I forced myself to sit again, pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the shutters, and another thought occurred to me: What if Damon hadn’t survived? What if the fire had taken him?

The guilt twisted through me. I’d left him. Run from him. Abandoned him to the flames while Ronan carried me into the night. If Damon was dead, his blood was on my hands.

Anger rose just as quickly, hotter than the memory of the fire.

Damon lied to me, to my face and hid things from me when were supposed to be partners.

He let me believe I wasn’t enough while he struck bargains with Ella and planned to marry Elena. And everyone but me knew about it.

The betrayal dug deeper the longer I sat with it. Had any touch been real? Was every kiss just another manipulation meant to keep me under control?

I wanted to believe the bond that was forming was true between us, but even that felt as poisoned as I was now. The anger grew from my stomach to my chest, jagged and sharp.

My head dropped into my hands. Two truths wrestled inside me: guilt for leaving and fury for being so naïve. I couldn’t separate one from the other.

The room suddenly felt smaller still, pressing in on all sides. I couldn’t breathe. I slid to the floor, curling against the wall, drawing my knees up like I did in my window seat.

“Damon,” I whispered into the shadows, my voice raw and breaking. “How could you?”

No answer. Not even the faintest stir in the bond that tethered us so tightly. I waited, holding my breath like a fool expecting a miracle.

Ruby was gone. Damon was gone. Ronan might not return. All that was left was the ache in my chest and the crushing weight of loneliness.

I tried to picture Ronan’s face, tried to remember the steady calm of his voice, but even that slipped was no comfort.

I hated him for leaving me here to rot in my own mind. I hated that part of me clung to the hope of his return.

My chest shook with sobs I couldn’t hold back, hot and bitter, spilling over until I was choking on them. The walls blurred, the air thickened, and I pressed both fists against my skull as if I could shake the emptiness out.

Why had everyone I loved lied to me, hurt me, or abandoned me?

I pressed my hand flat to the floor, searching for some way to remind myself I was still here. My fingers twitched once, then stilled.

The days blurred together, stitched only by the rhythm of unfamiliar hunger and cold.

Ronan had left me supplies of bread, dried strips of meat and fruit, and a small flask of water that tasted faintly of iron. It was enough to keep me alive if I was careful. Not that I had much appetite anyway.

By the third morning, I’d already cut my rations down to almost nothing. But it wasn’t just my body that was starving. My soul was too.

I paced when the light filtered through the cracks in the shutters, trying to trick myself into feeling less caged. But no matter how many steps I took, there was nowhere to go.

Every sound outside froze me in place. A bird’s wing in the branches. The snap of a twig. Once, the low rustle of something larger moved through the brush. My heart stuttered each time, convinced it was Damon’s guards, or worse, Damon himself.

I felt like a sitting duck; prey just waiting to be caught.

And then came the crueler thought: what if it was Damon searching for me? Had he tried reaching through the frail bond? Would he be able to fine me? That thought carved me hollow.

At night, the nightmares returned, more terrifying with each passing hour. Damon’s face shrouded in smoke, his hand reaching for me and then vanishing as fire closed in.

I woke thrashing, clawing at the thin blanket, convinced I was still choking on smoke.

But the worst part wasn’t the dreams. It was waking up to the silence and no one at all.

The loneliness pressed against me harder than the nausea and dizziness, heavier than the cold. It crawled under my skin, whispering that maybe I’d made the wrong choice.

Maybe the palace with all its gilded bars and its lies would have been easier. At least I wasn’t alone there. At least there, Damon was still alive, even if he wasn’t truly mine.

Here, I had nothing and no one.

I curled into the corner of the cot, clutching the blanket so tightly my knuckles whitened. My lips pressed against the coarse fabric, muffling the jagged sobs that finally broke loose.

“What am I doing?” I whispered into the dark. My voice cracked, raw. “What am I even doing?”

I hated that I felt weak and a little broken. And I hated the gnawing thought that maybe I shouldn’t have fought so hard to survive the fire.

Maybe I should have let it take me.

I pressed my face into my knees, shaking. The thought scared me because I knew it wasn’t what I truly wanted. But I couldn’t shake it completely.

My body rocked with each breath, back and forth against the wall like a child trying to soothe herself, but nothing helped.

The silence was merciless. The broken bond with Damon, my mother’s absence, saying goodbye to Emma, Ronan’s unknown state… it all carved me open, left me raw and begging into the empty dark for anyone at all to come back.

I pressed my nails into my arms, hard enough to sting, desperate for proof I was still alive. But even that faded too quickly, leaving only the echo of my own sobbing.

If Ronan didn’t return soon, I didn’t know if I’d have the strength to keep fighting. Not against the council or Damon. But against my own mind.