Panic tears through me, lashing its unforgiving claws up my throat. My every impulse tells me to sprint across the camp to my friends, to get them as far away from the Red Movement as possible. But I know that such an action will backfire. So instead, I remain rooted to the spot, eyes locked on the squadron from the Red Movement.
The wail of the man who was shot has attracted the attention of my friends and Callisto and Thane, who at once all spill out of the tent on the far side of the camp. The Red Movement soldiers immediately train their weapons on them.
"Stop!" I shriek and dart forward into the light of the blazing fire. The arrows turn back to me and I raise my hands. "It's me you want, isn't it?"
"Elle!" Ruben yells but I ignore him, training my glare on the Red Movement.
"Grab her!" someone in the squadron orders. Four large men march forward and before I can protest, snatch me by the arms. I thrash and writhe, shouting profanities, although only briefly, as the sleek blade of a dagger meets my throat.
"I suggest that you stay still and compliant, Elizabeth," one man says, the one holding the blade. He must be the general. He glances up at my friends. "I also suggest that none of you tries anything stupid."
"You will not kill me," I fairly spit, grinning maliciously. "Edward Mallory needs me, does he not?"
The general mirrors my grin. "He does. But he does not need vermin like this tribe getting in the way of obtaining his noble goals. We will douse the camp with gasoline and set it alight. No one will make it out alive."
Pure hatred surges through my veins and I work up a wad of saliva in my mouth and spit it in his face. "Fuck you," I hiss as he gasps, retracting away, cursing. The momentary respite gives me the opportunity to attempt to wrestle out of the grip of the men. I almost wrangle myself free but the general recovers quickly, bringing the knife back with surprising speed and the blade catches in my throat. Fire licks up my neck and I let out a strangled scream. I vaguely hear both Ruben and Aston yell out as I double over, cupping my throat. Warmblood streams through my fingers and dribbles onto the soil. I feel light headed and my vision blurs. Through the distorted images, I see Aston bring his sword through the chest of the general. The man wails, gurgling blood before collapsing heavily to the side. At once, the grips around my arms loosen. Aston grabs me by the wrist and yanks me forward.
"Run, Elle, run!" he shouts and somehow I manage to kick my feet out from under me and stumble forward. I catch up with the others who have begun running into the trees. Ruben materialises beside me and grabs my hand when I hesitate and the pair of us tear forward.
What are you doing? My conscious screams at me as my feet kick up dirt. Turn around! Don't leave all those people behind!
I dig my heels into the soil and Ruben lets out a yelp when I yank his arm sharply as I do so. I spin around and sprint back the way I came. Ruben yells my name. But I don't stop. I don't turn back. I only urge myself forward.
"Don't hurt anyone!" I shriek as I stumble back into the clearing, not bothering to hide the desperation in my cry. "Don't hurt them, for the love of God. You want me. Take me, instead!"
I expect the people of the Red Movement to ignore me, to douse the camp in gasoline anyway and set it alight. I expect to watch the camp become engulfed by flames, to be destroyed in minutes, to take its inhabitants with it. But instead, the people in the Red Movement have not changed position at all. Furthermore, they laugh. One, collective, taunting laugh, a cacophony of disturbing cackles.
Then, one woman in the centre of the group grins at me maliciously. "We knew you'd come back, Red Leaf."
An all-too-familiar sharp pang shoots up my leg and I let out an instinctive groan. A tranquil dart protrudes from my flesh. The bittersweet drug immediately begins to take effect. My vision blurs. My mind clouds. Just before I collapse to my knees, I catch the distorted image of Ruben as he bursts into the clearing. Hands grab me roughly by the arms.
"No!" Ruben yells.
Then black.
----
"Aston is a very lucky guy to have a friend like you, Elle," Ruben says, peering at me intently.
"No, he isn't." I shake my head. "It is because of me that he is in the cavern in the first place."
"But it is your love and loyalty for him that makes him lucky."
Sudden anger spikes in my bloodstream. "That isn't enough, Ruben! He is in the cavern because of me, he is suffering because of me. Aston could be killed at any moment and it would be because of me. Love and loyalty aren't always enough!"
His gaze hardens. "It should be."
"Well, life isn't that simple, Ruben."
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, sighing. "No," he says. "No, it isn't."
And then, Ruben Chander kisses me.
With his lips pressed against my own, the world falls away. He is all that matters, all that could ever matter. As the kiss deepens, my own hands land on his chest and his heart beats rapidly against my palm. He is terrifying and beautiful all at once. I have never wanted anything or anyone more in my entire life.
But then, all too soon, he pulls away, hands cupping my face once again. I let out an audible whimper, yearning for more.
"No," he whispers, biting his lower lip and visibly shuddering. "I shouldn't. You don't know who I really am."
"I do, Ruben," I hiss, the familiar sting of panic begins to work its way up my neck. "I do know who you are."
"I am him, Elle. I am him." His voice is strained, desperate.
"You are nothing like your father, Ruben." My own voice is trembling, on the verge of hysteria.
"But I am, Elizabeth!" he shouts, the sound echoing off the walls surrounding us. "I am no better than him."
That's when the room begins spinning. The warmth of Ruben's room vanishes, replaced with a chilling cold, and with it, Ruben disappears. His figure becomes distorted, a blurred, indistinguishable mess. Then all at once, I am deep in the dungeons of the Palace, burnt orange light casting ominous dancing shadows on the stone walls. And I am staring at a pair of green eyes. But they are not Ruben's. Lord Sneya grins at me, displaying bloodied teeth. He bursts out laughing as he grabs the shaft of the arrow embedded in his chest.
"Silly girl," he coos, withdrawing the arrow from his ribs. "You thought I was gone. You thought you could escape me. But I live on. I live on in him."
He points to Ruben who is shackled harshly to a stake with tight manacles. Whip lashes cascade all over his back, soaked in blood so much that there is no distinction between each wound.
"I live on in him."
A scream. Mine. It fills the room, engulfs my ears, and consumes my entire being.
"What an overestimation of your abilities, Elizabeth." Edward Mallory's voice draws me to consciousness. "And an underestimation of my power."
I gradually ease my eyes open. Edward Mallory peers down at me with his deeply scarred face. I try sitting up, but at once realise that it will not happen. Stiff metal restraints hold me in place. A fresh wave of panic surges through me at the limitation and I fight the urge to scream. "I think you may be a little stuck up, don't you, Edward?"
"But who is the one strapped to a bed?" he grins maliciously, stretching the scar across his eye. "And that is quite the nasty wound you have there." Edward brushes his fingers gently across the cut at my throat and just the feeling of his skin on mine makes me feel sick.
"I am not afraid of you," I say, voice steady despite myself.
He nods nonchalantly. "Perhaps not afraid of me, Elizabeth. But, I do know that there is someone who you are deeply afraid of."
It isn't his words that frighten me, but his tenaciously taunting grin that brings me a sharp sense of foreboding. My hands clench into fists. My breathing becomes uneven.
"I am not afraid," I tell him.
Impossibly, Edward's grin widens. "Don't lie to me, Elizabeth."
Then without another word, Edward turns on his heels and marches across the room to the door. He pulls it open and steps across the threshold, his black suit disappearing at last. But then, in his place, another figure steps into the room.
That's when all the air leaves my lungs. Deflated. Empty. Void of oxygen. I gasp instinctively, desperate to breathe again.
He wears his signature long white coat, although on the breast is the striking Red Leaf symbol embroidered into the fabric. Slowly, agonisingly, he walks across the room. His icy blue eyes fixate on my own, boring into my soul. His lips twitch and at last, he grins.
"Hello, Elizabeth. What a pleasure it is to finally see you again," Doctor Cedric Hatchman says.
****
Thank you so much for taking the time to read chapter 7, I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know your thoughts!
~ Emma