“Okay,” I said meekly. I could use a pick-me-up. It was so thoughtful of her to give me a welcome-home gift.
When I stepped out of my room, she wrapped a blindfold around my head and carefully guided me down the steps of the basement and into the middle of the floor. She squealed, “I’m so excited for you!”
“What is it?” I asked, the first true smile in two months creeping over my face.
She gently pulled my arm farther into the basement before saying, “Lift your leg and take one big step upward.”
“Okay,” I said cautiously. There was some sort of step, but I used my mother’s hand as leverage to keep myself balanced.
She rotated me to her by the hips. Her cold, lithe fingers took my hands as she said, “Almost ready.”
The delight in her voice stroked my excitement as a larger smile flourished over my face.
Her hands left me and two seconds later, something clamped down on both of my wrists with a powerful bite just before a loud crash rattled through me. I ripped off the blindfold, only to be met with fourwalls of glass. And right in front of me was that nasty red button that was used to activate the blood collector.
CHAPTER
SIX
My eyes widened as I stared in stark horror at the sinister grin taking over my mother’s face—at the two golden shackles that were compressed seamlessly over my wrists again.
Trauma shook my body. My muscles trembled in ripe horror that I was in an identical Cidris cage, like the one I had lived in for two months. My stomach flipped. My heart dropped. Agony at my mother’s betrayal leeched the few sparks of life I had remaining in my body. It sucked the sadness straight out of mysoul. All that was left were skid marks of derailed anger.
I clenched my fists, letting the blood pool at my fingertips, letting out a roar so loud—so vicious—I hoped it would break the glass.
And for a brief second, magic streaked across my arms and into my hands, making its way through the shackles until my fingertips ignited in flickering blue flames. I had one moment of hope until it, like my fire, was snuffed out.
Fletcher’s magic shook awake then banged against my ribs like a caged animal.
At the tail end of my scream, I heard a deep groan behind me. I turned and laid eyes on a second cage. A bronze-headed male was sprawled on the floor of his own cage and moving ever so slightly. His muscles were defined and veins bulged over his forearms like he had been under great stress.
A glass tunnel connected our cages with a clear grid wedged in between to separate us that spanned beyond the walls of the tunnel.
I looked back at my mother who had her arms crossed, legs set shoulder width apart, and chin tilted down. “What are you doing!” I slammed my fists against the cage.
“Admiring my work.”
I growled as I slapped the glass once more.
“You like my upgrade? I think it’s much better than the closet.”
I trembled, realizing she could hear me and I could hear her. Only the front glass was reinforced to mute sound, not the sides. And since this wasn’t butted up against another cage, I could communicate. The air became thick with my fury, my disgust, my utter despair at ever thinking I could trust in anyone again.
“Clothes off.”
I sent my magic down my arms again, but this time it didn’t pass through the shackles. I ground my teeth, curling my lips back.
“If you keep your clothes on, Ripley, I will have to press this button twice as much to get a full bottle of blood because most of it will be soaked into the cloth.”
I felt the hardening of the shell around me, locking that innocent Ripley from two months ago up tight in a mummified version of myself sent to die. “Then, I guess that is just what you’ll have to do.”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
“Where am I?” the naked male behind me grumbled.
Mother ignored his question and so did I. I listened to her footfalls as she sauntered closer without a hint of urgency. Then, there was a thump as her hand as it came down on the button.
This all-too-familiar motion reminded me of the countless times Fletcher had done the same. He was now somehow the lesser of two evils. Could he feel me now? My rage? My distress? I pushed away every thought of him, not wanting hope, not wanting that kind of punishment.
