Page 114 of Buried in Blood

---

I grab her arm. She doesn’t resist, but her whole body tenses. That little twitch in her jaw—like she wants to fight, like she wants to scream.

But she won’t.

Not yet.

“You know what happens when I feel betrayed?” I murmur as I drag her down the hallway. “I take things back.”

She stumbles behind me, barefoot against the cold tile, and I wonder if she realizes how fast her freedom is slipping.

Wereach the old exit—I toss her in the car. And I drive.

To the prison.

The new Golden Hollows.

My kingdom.

I shove the steel door open, and the air hits us both—thick, damp, and full of rot.

“You said I earned the house,” she whispers.

“And youdid.” My grip tightens. “But now? You don’tdeserveit.”

I yank her forward, every step down the concrete stairs a verdict. The dim light flickers overhead like it’s trying to warn her.

Or maybe beg me to stop.

Too late.

I lead her past the cages, past the empty cells, until we reach the one with rust on the hinges and claw marks on the walls. The one where I used to keep the ones who screamed too loud.

I shove her inside.

No fight.

Just breath. Shaky. Shallow.

I stare at her, drinking in the sight—hair tangled, lips parted, fear blooming beneath her skin like bruises trying to rise.

“You’re not a queen,” I whisper, stepping back. “You’re aghost.And ghosts belong in the dark.”

Her lip quivers, but she doesn’t cry.

I almost wish she would.

Because I want to feel something besides this violent ache in my chest. This constant war between needing her close and needing her topay.

I slam the cell door shut.

The sound echoes through the concrete like a shot.

“You can scream if you want,” I add. “No one’s coming.”

She doesn’t say a word.

Not when I turn.

Not when I walk away.

---