Page 65 of This Coven Won't Break
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WHEN BENTON’S PARENTS GROWbored, they call for guards to bring us back to the basement. I know I should try to keep track of the twists and turns through the halls, but I can’t focus on anything but Archer’s slumped body as they drag him in front of me. Benton leads our group and stops before a cell. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the door, swinging the creaking metal wide.
Archer’s guards drop him in a heap in the center of the small room, and large hands shove me hard from behind. I stumble forward, and the door slams shut by the time I can whirl around. One of the guards spits at us before he leaves. Benton is the last to go, his jaw still red from where his father hit him.
And then we’re alone.
I spin and drop to my knees before Archer. The backs of his hands are angry and blistered, and blood flecks the front of his jacket. Shame twists my insides into knots. I should have been able to protect him from the flames. If I could just—
Archer sucks in a deep breath, surfacing out of unconsciousness. He groans as he tries to pull himself into a seated position.
“Let me help. Hang on.” I move him toward the edge of the room so he can lean against the wall for support. Once he’s up, I can see more of the damage. His left eye is already swollen shut. Benton’s dad split his lip, and the blisters on his hands arestarting to ooze. “I’m so sorry, Archer. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t...” Tears cut off the rest of my apology. I felt so fucking helpless, watching them hurt him, unable to do anything but scream.
Archer clutches his ribs and gingerly turns his head until I’m within range of his right eye, the one that isn’t swollen shut. “This isn’t your fault, Hannah. You didn’t do this.”
“But I did! I’m the one who went after Benton. I’m the one who gave up your address and couldn’t stop the flame from the lighter and—”
“Hannah.” His voice is slow and thick with pain. “Blaming yourself isn’t going to help us get out of here.”
He may believe we have a chance at escape, but I know better. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. Neither of us have access to magic, and the only one of us trained for this sort of thing can barely sit up, even with a wall to lean on. We’re going to be lab rats, and the second the Hunters don’t need us anymore, we’ll be dead.
Will Mom even have a body to bury?
Archer reaches out and grips my wrist with surprising strength. “You have to stop, Hannah. If you give up on us now, we won’t stand a chance.”
Tears slip down my face, and I wipe them away with my free hand. “How can you possibly believe we’ll get out of here?”
“Because I believe in you.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. The normalcy of the reaction makes me feel a fraction better, but Archer doesn’t relent. “I’m serious,” he says, his grip on my wrist urgent now. “You are resourceful and driven. You’ve been through so,somuch the past few months, and you just need to push a little further.”
He lets go of my wrist, and I sigh, turning to sit against the wall beside him. I still don’t believe we can escape, but I’m not going to go out without a fight, either. “So, what’s the plan then?”
I think Archer tries to smile, but his whole face is swollen and bruised, and he just ends up wincing instead. “It sounds like they’ll draw our blood as part of their research for the drug. That might give us an opportunity.” He turns his head a little more in my direction. “We need to get your magic back before then.”
“But I’ve tried. The only thing that works is Blood Magic.”
“If Blood Magic can help,” Archer insists, “that means it’s in there. You just need to figure out how to access it.” He tips his head back, staring at the dark ceiling. He’s quiet a long time, and I don’t interrupt his thought process. My mind is busy with its own wandering, parsing through all the things Cal said about my magic, about what it means that just being near Morgan, even when she’s not using her power, makes it better.
How am I supposed to embrace grief in a place like this without getting lost in it?
“I don’t think fear will help,” he says at last. “If it did, I think it’s safe to say you would have found your magic in that office.” His burnt hands are proof enough that fear is not the emotion I’ve been avoiding.
“I am so, so sorry about that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t blame yourself for asecondof what’s happened here.” He goes quiet, his eyes shut against his pain. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, but if you can’t find a way back to your magic...” He lets the sentence trail off, and my mind is happy to fill in the horrifying gaps.
“I’ll try,” I promise. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
And I do try. Long after Archer has fallen asleep, I try to reach my magic. I force myself to pull down the walls around my heart. I push against every emotional bruise until I’m aching and raw and so scared and miserable I can’t breathe.
Time has no meaning in this windowless cell, but it feels like hours have passed. I’m exhausted, but my mind won’t stop spinning. I don’t understand how this happened—how thiskeepshappening. Going after Benton was my fault, but the Hunters finding us and drugging Archer? That wasn’t me.
David’s death wasn’t on me, either. The Huntersalwaysseem to be a step ahead, almost like...
Nope. I don’t even want tothinkit. But no matter how many times I push it away, the thought comes back. Each time, it’s more insistent, it brings more clues and theories.
What if someone betrayed us?
