Page 72 of Silverproof Damsel

The doorknob tried to turn, but it failed to open. The sound of someone throwing their shoulder against it came next, followed closely by grunts. Angry voices raised beyond the door, forcing me to return my attention to Nyota’s contorting form.

“Nyota, I’m so sorry this has happened to you. I never imagined my silver would be used on someone I cared about,” I murmured weakly, then winced as Rhys’ angry voice penetrated my hearing.

“Get this fucking door open. Now!” The sound of palms slapping against glass told me he was peering in, evaluating the situation. “Open the door, Love.”

“I can’t do that.” My voice sounded weak.

That wasn’t easing the anxiousness I already felt. Swallowing down the uneasiness crawling up my chest, choking off my words, I turned to stare at him through the window that allowed those outside to see within.

“If I don’t make it, know I never intended to cause you strife. I didn’t come here to find you with any ill intent, Rhys. I merely wanted a chance to see the boogeyman who haunted my mother’s every waking moment. It wasn’t to cause you or your family any harm.” Turning back to Nyota, I found her quiet, silver eyes staring at me with understanding glimmering in them.

“No, Remi. You can’t do this,” she whimpered out through clattering teeth as pain racked through her body.

Slowly shaking my head, I smiled sadly. “I’m the only one who can, Nyota. I can’t let you die. It would start a war. Neither of our families would come out unscathed. I’m sorry.” I sent my magic in, seeking the ends of the threads of silver intertwined throughout her circular system. “If I die, don’t let Rhys murder my family. Their only fault is being born to Roslyn’s poisonous womb.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Rhys’angryvoicedriftedthrough the space around me. Moisture beaded on my brow and nape, dripping down as I struggled to grip the silver slivers scattered throughout her body. Worm-like threads had embedded in her system, interwoven throughout it. The odor of cleaners burned my nose as I inhaled slowly, then released through my mouth. Pounding started at the door and window, forcing a groan from my lips.

Closing my eyes, I allowed the soft, erotic song of silver drown out the angry men outside the room. Within my mind, I envisioned each silvery strand, plucking them with my fingers one by one. Gripping each thread with my magic, I tied each one of the largest strands into knots, ensuring it couldn’t escape the rope I knitted. It was tedious and time consuming.

Time wasn’t on my side. It wouldn’t take Rhys long to summon assistance to remove the runes I’d placed. It meant I had to work fast and use the time I had to save Nyota’s life. Time management wasn’t my forte, either.

As if I stood at one end of the tunnel and he at the other, I heard him shouting for someone to summon Talia, the head ofthe witches. I’d expected him to do just that, though. Talia would easily unravel the feeble runes I’d decorated in my blood over the door, wall, and glass panel.

Tightening in my stomach caused a soft sob to burst from my lips. My muscles cramped with the magic releasing from my soul. Moments turned to minutes, then time ceased to have any meaning. Carefully, I plucked and pulled at each strand of powerful silver, one by one.

A skilled surgeon, one with butterfly fingers playing the strings. I mentally created a loom, placing each piece through the notch. The soft, seductive hum of silver turned into a discording sound, slowly punching into my eardrums as the taste of metal flooded my mouth. Inhaling the bitter, sharp tang in the air, I swallowed past the heat encompassing my swaying frame.

Uneven breaths left my lungs in short, shallow pants as the muscles in my thighs cramped. A churning in my abdomen sent grief seeking to take root in my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. Tears pricked my eyes, then slowly ran in rivulets down my cheeks.

I couldn’t stop now, nor would I. Life could be fickle, but then so, too, was love. Rhys wouldn’t ever look at me or Bullet without seeing Nyota. If she died, he’d hate me. At least, he’d hate me more than he already did.

The thought of him looking at our child with grief or anything other than love caused a hole to rip into my soul. I didn’t want any relationship he had with Bullet to be tainted.

Rhys wouldn’t love me, ever. That was clear. I was part of the past that he wanted to eradicate from his very being. The anger he exposed was part of that. It wasn’t his fault, but it also wasn’t mine.

My knees wobbled as my strength waned, forcing me to hold onto the bed as Nyota let out an ear-piercing shriek. Contortingin pain, moisture trickled from her temples, soaking her hospital gown in sweat.

Holding onto the side of the bed, I heard hushed feminine whispers from beyond the door. Nausea swirled through my center as I tugged on the threads, slowly recalling the silver from Nyota’s system.

I hadn’t had the foresight to realize the silver wouldn’t wish to leave until the host died. It fought against me, pulling back as my head swam with wooziness. Saliva flooded my mouth as I fought the need to vomit.

“Remington, you have to stop now,” Talia’s soft, chiding voice flooded inside my head.

A strangled laugh left my lips. “If I stop, I’ll die. If I succeed, I may very well survive. Failurewillresult in death, aswillstopping.” Using my right hand, I wiped the sweat away from my forehead. It came away soaked with perspiration.

My knees shook with the threat of depositing me on the floor. The room spun in my vision, yet I refused to stop. Failure wasn’t an option. Neither was conceding defeat. Closing my eyes, I yanked harder, seeking out the tiny wisps of silver that broke away from the threads.

It fought against being removed. Hard.

The moment a Silversmith infused silver with our magic, it became an organism. Each Silversmith’s silver enhanced something unique to their genetic makeup. Mine was liquid fire. The same fire that currently burned throughout Nyota’s entire form.

“Open the door, Remington. I won’t fucking lose you, too. Not like this!” Rhys pleaded, but I attempted to shut him out. Shut everyone out. “Don’t do this. I can’t fucking lose you or our child.” The desperation in his tone yanked my heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as the room slowly spun around me, steadily whirling faster with every moment, increasing the twirl of it in my vision. “I’m sorry I let you down again, Van Helsing.”

The sound of fluorescent lights exploding filled the room as, one by one, lights burst throughout it. Next, a metallic chemical odor burned my nostrils as the putrid scent of mercury was released into the air. The room darkened, the only light flowing in from the hallway corridor.

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