Page 14 of Wreck and Ruin

My every thought is hijacked, and my skin pricks with unease as she cries, no,wails, from the fucking torture they’re putting her through.

It’sher.

I just know it is.

My muscles tighten, and my jaw clenches. The pain in my ribs is an afterthought, and all rational thinking is thrown to the wayside as I try to stand. My legs betray me, and I stumble back against the wall, my body slamming against the cold surface with a sickening thud. The pain is almost blinding.

Come on, God dammit! Fucking move!

I rip away what used to be my shirt from around my torso, the fabric grazing against the gashes, and blood instantly spills down my body.

Come the fuck on, Ezekiel.

With as much strength as I can summon, I wrench at the chains, hoping they're brittle enough that I break them and better my chances of finding her. Saving her. Because she saved me.She's still fucking screaming.The skin beneath the shackles starts to tear, but I keep trying, my fingers slipping with the slickness of my blood.

“He's not going to fucking save you! Don’t you get it? No one is!” Another voice booms and echoes around me.

They’re taunting her. Torturing her. I almost growl, my body shaking with the effort as I fight to break free, each movement sending waves of pain across my body. It's fucking impossible. I’m in no shape to play save the damsel, but I’d feel every scrap of pain all over again, tenfold, if I could just break free and try. Whoever it was that told her thathewasn’t coming to save her, was right, and that thought is sharper than the shackles digging into my split, bleeding wrists.

Fear.

Pain.

Emptiness.

I hear it all in her screams.

Pain is a language I learned when I was a child, and it feels like she's speaking directly to me.

What are they doing to her?

Despair, helplessness, from the top of her lungs, she screams while they laugh, making a mockery of her terror.

Then nothing.

Silence.

Silence isn't good.

Did they kill her?

I swear to fucking God, if I get out of this shithole, they're all fucking dead.

“This is therealAtlantara!”

What?

No fucking way.

My mind spins, each thought even more confusing than the last as I try to make sense of what the hell was just said. Conversations with Valerie flood my mind.

Atlantara.

This is it.

This is where Charles has been running his whole operation. It's fucking genius. There is bound to be some sort of port or dock situated somewhere on this island for cargo. With the ocean separating this place from the rest of the world, it’s about as untouchable as The Royal was. He could ship whoever and whatever the fuck he wanted here, and nobody would blink an eye.

All of this can only mean that I’ve just landed in the devil's fucking playground, and the beautiful siren who rescued me, if she's still alive, is in big fucking trouble. A strange feeling hits me in the chest as my stomach sinks with the weight of knowing that someone has hurt her, and hurt her badly.She saved me. She chained me, yes, but that doesn't make us enemies. The problem is, by saving me, she may have just signed her death sentence.

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