Page 160 of Ruined Wrath
I think of Scout then, the image of him vivid and stark in my mind. The way he hugged Cormac’s legs and told us both to come back as quickly as possible. The absolute trust in his eyes as he watched us get into the car through the front window.
I have to get out of here.
Now.
The guard barks into his radio again, his stance wide and ready like he’s bracing for impact.
I pound on the glass, my hands stinging with every strike. “Please! Let me out!”
No response.
I force myself to breathe slowly, counting each inhale, willing my racing heart to follow.
Panic won’t help him, but how can I not when he’s lost in a place full of dangerous men with nothing to lose?
The shouting continues, echoing from somewhere down the hall.
Metal scrapes violently against concrete, and I flinch with every sound.
The guard by the door speaks into his radio again, the tension clear in his posture.
I press closer to the glass, my heart threatening to explode.
I yell as I pound on the glass. “Let me out! Let me out! LET ME OUT!”
Either the guard doesn’t hear me or he doesn’t care. He continues talking into his radio, oblivious to the screaming woman on the other side of the glass.
“HELP! HELP!”
I scream until my throat goes raw, but still, Cormac doesn’t appear, and I don’t know if he ever will.
My breathing comes too fast, too shallow, as panic claws at my chest.
“Cormac,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
This place wasn’t built for mercy. It was built to swallow people whole.
We might have come here together, but I have no clue if either of us will make it out.
Chapter Thirty-Six
CORMAC
“Fiona!”
An arm hooks around my chest, crushing the breath from my lungs, while another slams into my shoulders hard enough to knock me sideways.
The impact jars my teeth together, and white-hot rage explodes through me as I watch Fiona get dragged deeper into the sea of inmates storming the corridor.
Someone shouts something over the speaker system, but the thunder of blood in my ears is too loud for me to catch it.
“Let me go!” It isn’t a request. It’s a command ripped straight from instinct.
I don’t care where I am. I don’t care who’s touching me. I don’t care what the consequences are.
Because Fiona is gone.
My eyes lock onto her, my chest cracking at the sight of the sheer panic in her eyes.
