Page 54 of Inside the Wicked

Make it stop.

My consciousness starts to slip, and I let it. I don’t want this pain anymore.

“Ana.”

I think someone says my name, but I don’t want to listen. It’s not Rhett. I want them to let me go.

Instead strong arms encircle me. They don’t stop my rocking; they move with me.

“Just breathe,” they say, so calm, and younger than I expected. “Shit, I don’t know what I’m doing. Uh, what color is grass, Ana?”

What did he ask?I can’t focus. I can’tbreathe.

“Shit. Okay. Uhh—” His arms tighten, and the pressure helps. I think his mouth leans to my ear with his next quiet words. “What color are Rhett’s eyes?”

Rhett’s eyes.

“Blue,” I wheeze.

“Good. Yes. Keep going.”

“They’re like . . . a clear ocean blue . . .” I say.

I close my eyes and think of only his irises.

Breathe, little bird.

“Sometimes they look darker in the night,” I whisper.God, I miss how my heart skips and my stomach flutters every time he looks at me. How they make me feel like I’m the only person in the world.

I’m so exhausted I don’t even care about the stranger’s arms around me. At least it’s someone. The door is cracked open, and seeing there’s space beyond this terrible cage begins to calm me.

“Good. This is good, I think.”

He sounds kind of panicked, and that makes me curious. I wouldn’t expect any of Alistair’s men to have consideration for me. In fact, I bet most of them would enjoy seeing me this way after I walked around their halls as Alistair’s precious prized pet.

It makes me wonder if we’re in his manor. No—why would they blindfold and drug me to get me here? They don’t want me to be able to identify this place. Another curious thing.

It’s what reels me back to feeling like myself again. The prickling heat over my skin starts to subside. The cloudiness in my mind starts to dissipate. I’m about to ease out of the stranger’s arms, but they tighten on me as I do.

He leans his mouth to my ear again, and I lock still.

“I hoped we’d meet under far better circumstances,” he whispers.

We’re still rocking. We have our backs to the camera.

“Who are you?” I dare to ask.

“My name is Jeremy.”

I breathe a shallow gasp.This isn’t real.

“Jeremy,” I repeat, like this an illusion I’ve conjured in my panicked delirium.

“Have you been to Xoid HQ yet?” he asks. “How are Frodo and Sam? Just say they’re missing me so I can feel like someone will be happy to see me when I get out of this.”

My eyes flood. Jeremy is holding me. Rix’s little brother. I’m both so, so relieved and absolutely terrified he’s here.

“Yes, I have. Rix is so worried about you,” I whisper.

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