Page 160 of Bound By Fury

When he’s gone, I scream until my lungs give out.

I strain my arms and legs against the ties, but still my magic sputters uselessly.

Malachi watches me coolly from against the wall. His arms crossed over his chest. His lids lowered.

He taps his foot against the ground.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

There, at the apex of his jaw, a tic—the only flicker of the boy I almost killed on the edge of the mountain.

He doesn’t say a word as he watches me struggle, his chest heaving.

I grind my teeth into the gag as I fail to push my magic out around me. Panic unfurls at my core when, still, I’m bound. Throwing my head back in frustration, I accidentally tip the chair and go careening, the fall knocking the wind out of me.

I crane my neck, sweat slipping into my eyes and hair. Malachi is upside down. Sighing, he kicks off the wall and stalks toward me, squatting behind my head. Even my eyelids tremble as I tamp down the fear coursing through me.

His warm hands sting like the brush of nettles against the delicate skin of my throat, and I wonder briefly if he’s going to strangle me. Then there’s the clink of metal on metal, an intense pressure, a tug, and the heavy thud of a loose iron chain against the dirt.

My magic doesn’t come flooding back. I am not breathless with it. But it is there, right where I left it. I pull it out, coax it toward the binds at my hands and feet. I’m burning up from the inside with effort, though the ties don’t break.

I watch, transfixed, as Malachi swipes a switchblade from the table against the wall and flicks it open.

He releases my feet first, and then my hands.

Scrambling, I kick, turning until I can gain purchase and stand on shaking legs as I back up, ripping the cloth from my mouth. I wipe the sweat from my brow as I spin.

I finally realize what this room reminds me of. I can picture the tunnels from Nora’s journal like I was there myself.

“What the fuck?!” I scream hoarsely as I narrow my eyes at Malachi.

He crosses the room, emotion sloughing off him in waves. I retreat, tripping over my own feet until his hand is on my mouth and he’s slamming me against the wall.

“Shut up,” he hisses, his breath pounding against my face as he holds the back of my head with his other hand. I squirm against him, clawing at his arms, readying my magic.

“Stop it! Do not call your magic right now—they can sense it if they’re close enough!” He peers into my eyes, and I’m struck by how raw his gaze is. “I just—I need to think…”

He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at the door.

His next words are quiet. “Listen, if you want to get out of here, you need to do what I say and be quiet for once in your life.”

I just look at him.

“Okay?” he asks.

I nod.

Slowly he peels his hand back, and I release a quivering breath.

“Why are you helping me?” I whisper, confused about how we’ve suddenly ended up on the same side of this.

His mouth forms a tight line. “I’m not helping you,” he says, his voice woven with malice. “You’re hopeless. But I can’t stomach the thought…”

I flinch. “The thought…?”