Page 112 of Burn of Obsidian

Jax was still alive, his chest heaving as if struggling for every breath. His spine arched, head resting against his forearms. Slowly, his hands curled into fists, veins popping with how tight he held them.

Please be okay, she silently begged.

Gideon looked over his shoulder, the first of the three documents looking the same as the stones, but in reverse. The pages had darkened, with random slashes of white that revealed text. “What’s next?”

At Jax’s silence, he kicked him in the ribs. The momentum shot Jax onto his back, the red line of his throat raw, but not deep. Relief softened the sharp ache in her chest.

“Answer me,” he barked, followed by another kick. “What’s the next catalyst?”

Jax swallowed, causing blood to trickle from his wound. “It’ll take some time to be revealed.”

Gideon stilled, his smile on edge. He slowly brought the chalice to his lips, grey tongue licking along the rim before sipping the blood that had been caught. His eyes seemed to glow, the red burning like embers.

“Hurt her,” he said to the Skull, his lips stained when he drifted across to place the chalice back on its platform. “Maybe you’ll be more compliant after you hear her screams echo against my walls.”

The weight on Thea’s back left, the respite only lasting a second before she was yanked to her knees. She barely stifled the cry when the first whip hit her back. It split skin even through her shirt, her body tensing as the distinctive whistle of the weapon moved through the air seconds before she felt the pain.

She tasted blood, her teeth clenched so tight to muffle the screams that wanted to break free. But she couldn’t keep them down, even as Jax roared, tearing at his chains and trying to reach her.

Thea fisted her hands, the manacles an uncomfortable weight against her wrists, and it wasn’t long before the whip was changed to something heavier, blunter. Thea gave up, not screaming when she felt her first bone break.

Being tortured was not part of the plan.

But for him… she would survive it. She had to.

Her eyes felt bruised, heavy as she tried to open them. Her tender back was pressed against something like stone, the room cold and with a breeze that created goosebumps across her exposed skin. She wasn’t sure how long they’d hurt her until she’d been dragged to a cell. Long enough for her to know she didn’t want to repeat it. Ever.

She’d never seen Jax so feral, his usual calm façade crushed beneath such violent fury. He’d torn his chain anchors from the concrete, and for a split second she thought he’d actually reach her. Except the collar had ignited, sending him to his knees and seizing his muscles.

They were going to kill him, she was sure of it. So, the plan had to work. There was no other choice, because no way was she losing him.

Groaning at the violent headache, she blinked past the blurriness, the room taking a second to come into focus. There were no windows, the air damp as if underground. It meant she didn’t know how much time had passed, or whether it was still the same day.

Jax was chained to the wall opposite her, his body sagged forward and wrists pinned above his head in much a similar position to herself. The wound on his shoulder looked aggravated, the hole where the pipe had impaled him red and angry. Slices had been cut across his skin, some deeper than others.

“Jax?” she whispered, getting nothing in return. He didn’t move, his chest barely stirring. Thea tried to wiggle closer, but the chain hooked to the wall above stopped her short. “J – ”

A weight knocked into her side, falling with a thump to the floor at her feet. Forgetting the pain, Thea scrambled away as much as she could.

“Fuck!” Wild magic hummed inside her head, the annoying drum beat quieting as she shook her hands free of the power.

A Skull had fallen on his back, eyes open and deathly white. His skin had been pulled tight to his bones, and his cheeks somehow looked even more hollow. It was as if his life had been sucked out, leaving only the husk.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, stretching so she could kick him in the side and check whether he was indeed dead. He was. Or, at least, really good at faking it. “It was an accident.”

She’d never killed someone with her power before, her stomach churning at the sight. A heaviness had settled in her stomach, a strange taste at the back of her pallet. She’d taken the Skull’s essence into herself, and she had no idea how to get rid of it.

Everything ached, from the bottom of her toes to the tips of her fingers. She could feel her fingers, despite a particularly horrific memory of watching them be broken. Frowning, Thea wiggled the ten digits, and other than a dull throb they felt… fine.

Had someone healed her?

Or was she just losing her mind?

Trying not to overthink it, she reached up and pulled at the manacles binding her to the wall, the chain clunking so loud it was enough for her to pause.

Silence, no whispers or footsteps. Nothing but her own heartbeat, which was so loud it was ridiculous. Trying to calm herself, she pulled at her wrists once again. Her hands spasmed, but pushing past the pain, she managed to get the left free. The metal had cut her skin, and before she could hesitate, she used her entire weight to pull at her right hand. Stifling her cry, her hand came free, the momentum sending her to the floor, and on top of the Skull.

Scrambling back until she hit the wall, Thea stared. His torso had caved beneath her weight, as if his bones were turning to dust at the slightest touch. He must have been dead for a while, which was a whole lot of trauma she didn’t have time to deal with.

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