Page 40 of Chained

"Let's not talk about that for now," I whisper, giving her a shaky smile.

She nods with a yawn, her arms stretching over her head. Her face is red and blotchy.

"You should try to sleep again. You must be exhausted."

She chews her bottom lip as her eyes drop to my knuckles. "Are you hurt?"

I shove them fast behind my back, my hands aching. I don't want to tell her that the pain is welcome, that for once it felt good to feel something other than the guilt, the hurt.

"I'll be okay." I try to smile again, but it's false. I hope she doesn't notice.

She lies back down, facing me this time, wrapping her arms around her chest as she closes her eyes.

"I'll just close my eyes for a second…"

"I'll be here when you wake up."

It's a promise I don't know I can keep. Nothing is certain here, but it's one I'll definitely try.

I lie down myself, studying her face as I watch her succumb to her dreams. Everything about her seems so much younger since I last saw her, like she's almost a different girl entirely. I swallow as the heaviness sinks in. Another promise I swear to keep is to protect her. I won't let her meet the same fate as Hailee. I won't freeze up and let them get close to her.

Comply or die.

The threat hangs like a noose around my neck as every dark thought drowns me.

Would you lose your life to save her? Is she more important than saving Rosa? Don't be stupid, Amora. Your life means more—you're the only one who can find your sister.

I don't answer. I can't.

I try to shake the dark thoughts that are screaming inside my head, repeating every word over and over. My hands grip my temples, fingers digging into my hair as my body aches at the impossible choice I might have to make.

Chapter Twelve

Ace

Twenty-four hours have passed since I left her in the cells, and still, the feel of her hands wrapped over my fists lingers. Her pleas still echo inside my mind, burning every inch of me. I've heard it before—the pleas, the begging—and yet, none have ever crawled into my soul the way hers has.

I've tried everything to shake it. Whiskey until my eyes blur. Melina until I hate myself more than usual. Sleep that never comes, and when it does, she's there, too—dark curls, brown eyes, hands over my fists like she trusts me with something I have no right to hold.

Adrian's pads smack against my fists. The air's thick with old sweat, bleach, the faint bite of blood that never really leaves the mats. The training room always looks the same, never changing. I'm thankful for that; it's the only place in the manor I feel comfortable.

My hands burn inside the gloves. I keep my chin tucked as Adrian stalks around me, bouncing on his feet, but I don't waver—I just stare past his shoulders as he grunts and begins to move in closer, just enough that I can still smell the whiskey lingering on his breath.

"Fix your form and change your face, Ace."

I snap a jab, a little too hard, causing his eyes to widen and his brows to burrow. This is Adrian's problem—he's always pushing my fucking buttons and talking to me like I'm still the eight-year-old who was shoved at him.

"There's nothing wrong with my face."

He doesn't blink, just laughs as his eyes flicker to Jarrod. "Just your attitude then."

I shift my stance and roll out my shoulders, my wrists aching and the tone of his voice grating. "Nothing wrong with that, either." I aim for him again, arm swinging as he fails to dodge, causing him to catch a left hook. He shakes his head at me, muttering curses under his breath as he tugs the glove off his hand and rubs at his jaw.

"What's wrong with you today? You've been moping since you set foot in here."

I shrug, not wanting to talk about it—because talking would mean admitting how fucked up I feel about the last Order meeting. How the sight of those girls being trapped here makes me feel fucking sick. How I want more than anything to just leave and never look back. But I don't say any of that. I lie.

"Nothing."