Page 87 of Knot Their Arrangement

And for the first time, I see something else in my reflection.

Beyond the regret, past the pain and fear, there's something new emerging in my eyes. Something that looks surprisingly like hope.

Because even if this is how my story ends – suspended in this moment of crystal clarity and shattering glass – at least I'm facing it on my own terms.

At least I tasted freedom, however briefly, before the fall.

Irony at its finest, and yet I wish that this isn’t my end.

That this could ignite the beginning of my rebellion.

14

AFTERMATH OF A SINNER

~KAMARI~

Sirens pierce the darkness, their wailing pulling me back to consciousness.

My eyelids feel impossibly heavy, and every attempt to open them sends fresh waves of pain through my skull. My entire body throbs in a symphony of agony, each heartbeat bringing new awareness of injuries I'm too afraid to catalog.

The first thing I register is the sky above me – vast and dark, occasional raindrops falling on my face like cold kisses. For one surreal moment, I wonder if this is death. If the impact finally freed me from all earthly concerns.

Then pain surges through me, sharp and insistent, and I know I'm very much alive.

Fear spikes through my system, flooding my veins with adrenaline that propels me into a sitting position. The sudden movement proves to be a terrible mistake – the world tilts and spins like a carnival ride gone wrong.

My hand flies to my right temple, pressing against it as if I could physically hold my skull together.

Through narrowed eyes, I try to make sense of my surroundings. I'm sprawled on the asphalt several yards from what used to be Maharaja's pristine sports car.

The vehicle lies upside down, its sleek lines transformed into a twisted sculpture of metal and glass. Fluid leaks from somewhere beneath the wreckage, creating dark pools that mirror the smoke rising lazily into the rain-heavy air.

The rain continues its relentless descent, creating a thick mist that encases the crash site in an otherworldly bubble. It's as if nature itself is trying to hide us from the world, creating a pocket of clarity in the growing fog.

My gaze is drawn inevitably to the driver's side of the wreck. Maharaja hangs upside down in his seat, still trapped inside the mangled vehicle. The irony of his position isn't lost on me – he who never bothered with a seatbelt is now pinned in place by the very destruction his recklessness caused.

The damage to the car is extensive.

The entire driver's side has crumpled inward, metal folded like origami around his body. They'll need the Jaws of Life to extract him, I realize distantly. Some part of my mind catalogs this fact clinically, noting how even in this state of complete vulnerability, his status as an important Alpha will ensure swift rescue.

I could run.

The thought hits me with the force of another impact. This is my chance –perhaps my only chance– to truly escape. Maharaja is trapped, incapacitated. The fog provides perfect cover.

By the time help arrives, by the time they cut him free, I could be anywhere.

But my body refuses to move.

I try to convince my legs to work, to carry me away from this scene of destruction and back toward...toward what? Freedom? Safety? The concepts feel as nebulous as the mist surrounding us.

Maybe it's fear keeping me rooted in place.

The knowledge that if I run now, I'm only adding to the list of transgressions Maharaja will punish me for when he inevitably finds me again. Each step away would be another lash, another bruise, another moment of torment to endure.

If he survives.

The thought slithers through my mind unbidden.

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