<b>Chapter </b><b>83</b>
<ul>
<li><b></b><b>Colette</b></li>
</ul>
<b>My </b><b>body </b>shudders involuntarily<b>, </b>the cold leeching in through the dirtied denim pants I <b>have </b>on and the thin shirt I pulled <b>back </b><b>over </b>my <b>head </b>to retain whatever heat I <b>can</b>.
Mom breathes heavily just on the other side of the bars<b>, </b>as close <b>as </b>she can be without being too affected by the silver. I expected them toe back for me, but as my mom expected, <b>they </b>are letting me heal before they start up again.
It seems they want it <b>to </bst <b>as </b>long <b>as </b>possible. No doubt <b>they </b><b>get </b>a <b>sick </b><b>sense </b>of enjoyment out of our pain. But maybe that is how the dragons <b>are</b>, maybe instead of living <b>for </b>fire they <b>live </b><b>for </b>others suffering.
“Are you still awake….” <b>I </b><b>whisper </b><b>over </b>to my mother. I hear her <b>groan </b>before she clears her throat.
“There is no such thing as sleep in this <b>ce</b><b>.” </b>She <b>says </b>back, her voice hoarse from dehydration.
“How <b>is </b>your pain?<b>” </b>I ask <b>her</b><b>, </b>not really knowing what else to <b>say</b>.
There are hundreds<b>, </b>if not thousands, of questions running through my head. Questions I have pondered for <b>years</b>, <b>answers </b>I had convinced myself that if <b>I knew </b>them, maybe I could be happier. But now when I have her here, <b>I </b>can’t think of a damn one.
She chuckles before breaking into <b>a </b>coughing fit. My chest aches with every chest rattling expelling of dust she lets out and I press my head to the cement, holding back tears. After <b>a </b>moment, she clears her throat and I hear a heavy sigh.
<b>“</b><b>Ten </b><b>years </b>and these <b>are </b>the questions you ask me?”
<b>“</b><b>It </b>seemed polite to have <b>a </b>little small talk first,” I joke, and she chuckles lightly.
<b>“</b><b>Well</b>, at least my brother <b>was </b><b>good </b>enough to teach you manners.” She muses. I don’t have the heart to tell her he taught me a lot more than that but that it <b>was </b>quick learning at the end of his whip or the whim of her niece.
<b>“</b>What <b>do </b>they want from you?” <b>I </b>ask, deciding <b>to </b>skirt around the familial problems she may not know we even have with her brother.
The <b>cell </b><b>goes </b>silent, then there is an exhale and the sound of shuffling. When she speaks again, her voice is closer, more hushed.
“At first, they wanted to know where you <b>were</b>. <b>I </b>assumed you were alive and that your uncle hade for you as promised.” She exins. I <b>furrow </b>my brows in confusion.
<b>“</b>Alpha Bentley didn’te for me.” <b>I </b>say slowly, “I was left in the pack for him to find.”
“No, you <b>are </b>mistaken. He promised me he woulde for you. I couldn’t reach Caspian and-” She trails off, going silent again.
<b>“</b>Melody…?<b>” </b><b>I </b>whisper<b>, </b>and I <b>hear </b><b>a </b>soft, quiet sob in the darkness.
“I need a minute,” she murmurs<b>, </b>and I hear her shift <b>away </b>from me.
There is a tter as the door opens, echoing through the damp prison, lights flickering on as <b>I </b><b>cover </b>my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the sudden change. There is a shuffling and I can <b>hear </b><b>a </b>sizzle to my right <b>as </b>I blink and look at my mother clutching the bars.
“Do the video.” She whispers, her eyes darting toward the entrance of my cage with fear written all over her face<b>.</b>
“What<b>?</b><b>” </b>I hiss, ashamed she would <b>back </b>down so easily, though pain has been a constant for her for many years.
“The sooner your mate knows you <b>are </b>missing, the sooner they wille for you.” She mutters<b>. </b>“<b>I </b>can handle torture, but you need to <b>get </b>out of here<b>. </b>This ce will kill <b>you</b>, my <b>sweetheart</b>. I need you to promise me you will say <b>what </b>they want you to, but don’t you dare show an ounce of <b>pain </b>or <b>fear</b>? Otherwise<b>, </b>they <b>will </b>storm the mountain and it will be their death<b>.</b><b>”</b>
She recoils <b>away </b>as footsteps echo closer and the same dragon man from before <b>stops </b>in front of me, a permanent <b>scowl </b>on his <b>face</b>. He ys with the keys in his hands for a moment, his eyes trained <b>on </b>me in thought before he exhales and unlocks the door. As if to mock me, he holds it open and gives me <b>a </b>fake bow<b><i>, </i></b>showing I should exit the door.
My heart skins a beat<b>, </b>my eyes sliding to my mother<b>, </b>who stands now, watching me <b>closely</b>, and shakes her <b>head </b><b>as </b>she seems to read the thought in my mind. Panic rises as she touches the silver that burns her, but she never seems to react to.
Everything in my body is telling me to run. I know I won’t get far. How <b>can </b>I when he is so close and we are <b>apparently </b>on a mountain? <b>No </b>doubt this guy has wings when he needs them. One more nce <b>at </b>him <b>reveals </b><b>a </b>small smirk on his <b>lips</b>, and <b>I </b>realize that <b>is </b><b>exactly </b>what he wants, <b>He</b>
wants me <b>to </b><b>run</b><b>.</b>
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+5
<b>Chapter </b><b>83</b>
<b>Instead</b>, I exit my cage, stepping to the side, allowing him <b>to </b>close it as <b>I </b>wait patiently for him to point me in the right direction. His disappointment is noticeable as the smirk falls from his face<b>, </b>reced by a sneer<b>, </b><b>as </b>he reaches out and shoves me.
<b>I </b><b>jolt </b>forward<b>, </b>stumbling for a <b>few </b>steps before catching myself on the silver bars, the metal sizzling as pain zips through my hand. I <b>retract </b>it, hissing as I hug it to my chest and re up at his all too pleased <b>face</b>.
<b>“</b>You enjoy hurting innocent people?” <b>I </b>grumble at him and he chuckles.
<b>“</b>Innocent? No. But you aren’t innocent<b>, </b>are you hybrid?” He <b>asks</b>, tilting his <b>head </b>while I try to understand what the hell he <b>is </b>talking about.
*Just existing makes me guilty <b>of </b><b>whatever </b>bullshit you decide I did?” <b>I </b>scoff.
He doesn’t respond, and I roll my <b>eyes</b>. “Of course the evil ones <b>get </b>to dictate who they kill and make up lies <b>as </b>to why.”
“You aren’t supposed to <b>exist</b>.” He <b>says </b>tly.
<b>I </b>whip around, ring up at him.
“I didn’t <b>create </b>myself. A mate bond <b>created </b>me. To you dragons mates may mean nothing, but to us, to my kind, a mate is everything. It is a gift from our <b>goddess </b>and a refusal of that is the grave sin.” I hiss at him.
He steps into me, forcing me to keep moving back as he res down at me.
<b>“</b>Why would a mangy <b>dog </b>and <b>a </b>fish be given the gift <b>of </b><b>a </b>hybrid?” He goads me. “A species who only fights and one that only hides. You were <b>created </b>as <b>a </b>weapon to be used against us. Our only weakness is now walking the earth instead of remaining where you belong, in the sea.”
<b>I </b><b>spin </b><b>forward </b>again, my mind whirling <b>as </b>I take in his words and digest them. Me being <b>here </b>isn’t just because of their desire to kill off the werewolves and lycans. Though clearly there is some tension between our species, but they are using me to lure out Caspian <b>as </b>well. Fire and water <b>don’t </b>mix, they can’t.
<b>So </b>with the sirens restrained to their respective habitat and the dragons to theirs…everyone was safe. Until me, though, <b>if </b>what thatst bitch said is true, then I’m not the first or only hybrid. So why do I get to be treated like a problem and not the other supposed hybrids?
“Turn left,” He grunts and I follow his instructions.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.
“Where <b>are </b>we going?<b>” </b><b>I </b><b>ask </b>curiously as the hallway grows warmer with every step, the air dry and suffocating until <b>we </b>break into <b>a </b>massive room.
“The king wants <b>a </b>look at you,” he murmurs, sounding displeased by thismand.
<b>as </b>he continues to shove me along
The <b>vast </b>ceiling is light up with fire, providing a flickering light along theva rock floors. Sweat beads at my brow and drips down my back and I see the walls lined with warriors all standing at attention, <b>ready </b>to strike at a moment’s notice.
There is <b>a </b>fountain in front of me, not of the water I desperately find myself in need of, but of bubbling magma in the center of the long walkway. He pushes me to the right, and I trip on a protruding rock<b>, </b>crashing to my knees.
Heat burns through my <b>jeans</b><b>, </b><b>as </b><b>pain </b>erupts <b>over </b>my knee cap and I cry out in pain. I ce my hands down, trying to stand <b>as </b>fast as possible and my skin sears, the pads of my fingers and palm sticking to the rock as I tear them free with a <b>gasp </b>and hold them to my body.
“Help the pitiful creature up,” a man sighs in boredom. “Clearly, she has no taste for our preferred level of heat.<b>”</b>
“What is <b>it </b><b>you </b>want from <b>me</b><b>?</b><b>” </b><b>I </b><b>ask</b><b>, </b>my <b>jaw </b>clenching from the throbbing in my hands and knee. I am struck in the back and <b>I </b>groan.
“He is the king. Address him as such.” He growls in my <b>ear</b>.
<b>“</b>What do I want from <b>you</b><b>?</b>” The Dragon King <b>asks</b>, sitting forward and out of the shadows. “That is a curious question to <b>ask </b>for a spy. I believe it is more appropriate to ask <b>what </b><b>it </b>is you want from us<b>.”</b>
I furrow <b>my </b>brows and scoff in <b>disbelief</b>.
<b>“</b>Me? A spy<b>?</b><b>” </b><b>I </b>ask him, <b>“</b>Is that what Giselle told you<b>?</b><b>”</b>
“Why else would you be here<b>?</b><b>” </b>He asks me curiously as he stands and moves toward me with slow and stiff movements. It is clear he is suffering some type of injury<b>, </b>his eyes filled with pain with <b>every </b><b>step </b>he takes.
“Do you honestly think I came here <b>because </b><b>I </b>wanted to?” <b>I </b>scoff.
<b>“</b>Spies go where they <b>are </b>ordered, not because they want to <b>go </b>somewhere<b>.</b><b>” </b><b>He </b>shrugs.
<b>“</b>Your kind ambushed me and killed my gamma<b>.</b>” <b>I </b><b>growl</b><b>, </b>taking a limp toward him. “Giselle attacked first at the council meeting. <b>Not </b>the <b>other </b>way around<b>.</b><b>”</b>
<b>2/3</b>
<b>3/3</b>
Chapter 83
“So that is why you are here then, <b>revenge </b>on my mate?<b>” </b>He asks, arching a <b>brow</b>.
<b>I </b>realize now that the pain in his <b>eyes </b>is not from any physical ailment, but mental. The way he seems to beg for freedom while doing something he has no control over. He is under control of Lily and Giselle, and whoever else is in on their little shitty n.
“There is no talking to you.” I whisper to myself in shock. “You are as free as I am.”
“Take her back.” He flicks his wrist at the man escorting me, who grumbles as he drags me out of the room.
After a few moments, he stops walking and allows me to stand on my own, his eyes scanning the area before he steps close and looks down at me with a look of determination.
“What did you see in his eyes that made you <b>say </b>that?” he asks.
“He is a prisoner just as much as I am,” I scoff. “Can you not tell?”
“I can, but no one else seems to…” he says, ncing around like he is paranoid that someone may be listening. “Well, Princess, I think we may be able to help each other…”
<b>1 </b>narrow my eyes and click my tongue. “Oh, and what makes you think that?”
“I can get you out of here, if you help me first,” he offers, and I bite my lip warily.
“What do you need from me?” I ask, feeling hopeful for the first time in days.
B