Page 12 of Shackled to the World
When the hand refused to release her, her heartbeat gradually stopped thundering in her ears.
It took a few seconds for the man’s face to come into focus.
Edgar—not her uncle. He looked down at her with concern, the rest of the guys crowding closer, sensing her turmoil.
They were her friends.
Her family.
They wouldn’t harm her.
But doubt shadowed her mind. Logan hurt her by vanishing. She wasn’t sure if she’d survive the pain if something happened to the others. Physical pain was easy. It was the emotional pain that came with allowing people into her heart that was going to be the death of her.
After a minute, she stopped struggling.
“You’re still leaking,” Edgar leaned down, murmuring so softly the breeze threatened to dance away with his words.
Annora mentally scanned her body, checking for injury, until she realized he didn’t mean blood. Her insides stilled, the air around her stalled, allowing the coldness of the afterworld to creep into the world as she focused on the darkness rising inside her.
Edgar was right. Particles of the afterworld were leaking out of her. Her shadow stretched across the groomed lawn once more, determined to finish its mission, resembling small puffs of dirt kicking up, reaching for the witch so stealthy Annora hadn’t noticed, silently doing as she bid and eliminate the threat.
Instead of being appalled, Annora hesitated to make it stop.
Only when Edgar tightened his grip on her hand in warning did she reluctantly pull it back. The particles fought her for a few seconds, not wanting to obey, the darkness stinging along her skin as it wrapped back around her.
Only after the dark particles were firmly tucked away did common sense return.
Too bad she wasn’t horrified by her actions.
The only reason she stopped was Hopper’s disappearance would make things worse. Annora rubbed the tension between her eyes. Unfortunately, it did little to take away the building headache. She pursed her lips, glancing up at Edgar, and acknowledged the truth she didn’t want to admit to, even silently.
“I didn’t do it consciously.” The confession burst from her in a rush. “Ever since I started visiting the afterworld, it has a mind of its own. Every thought, every urge…” She shrugged. “…it wants to please me. It takes more effort to hold back the darkness than it does to use it.”
A muscle jumped along his jaw. “You can’t lose control like that. Youmustresist using it. The more you give in to it, the easier it will be for your father to find you.” His grip tightened on her hand, his hard blue eyes troubled. “If he finds you…I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you.”
He snorted, his bitter laughter twisting something inside her. “Hell, I wasn’t even able to save myself when he came for me, and I was at full strength back then.” When he tugged her closer, she didn’t fight him, needing the comfort of his nearness just as much. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, but you need to keep training. You need to get stronger if you want to survive. If not for yourself, do it for your men.”
Survival.
Her life seemed to always come down to survival.
What was so wrong with her that she had to fight every damn day to simply stay alive?
That’s when she realized she did want to live…for them.
Which meant she had to find a way to keep the witches on her side to prevent them from hunting her down like she was a helpless little mouse with no powers of her own.
Annora inhaled deeply, then gave him a nod. “I’ll do my best.”
The guys released a collective breath, none of them even bothering to pretend they hadn’t been listening to every single word. Mason lengthened his stride, opening the door for her, and she nodded to him gratefully.
As they bypassed the elevator, Annora smiled when the witch sputtered in protest, taking malicious pleasure by forcing her to suffer while trudging up the stairs, if for only a few minutes. The click-clack of the witch’s heels could be heard throughout the stairwell, everyone else making the climb soundlessly.
As they reached the top floor, the guys spread out in formation around her. Just as they reached Director Greenwood’s office, the door opened and Kevin walked out. Shock held her immobile. Despite their conversation that morning, she’d never expected him to actually listen. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, his widened, and he ducked away before she could gather her wits to demand what he was doing there.
As they piled into the office, the witch entered last, breathing heavily. She scowled at the way the guys hovered so protectively around Annora, and she planted herself in front of the desk. “The guards have seen her to your door. You can send them away now.”
Greenwood eased himself into his chair, not in the least bit rushed. He leaned back, threading his fingers together, resting them on his chest. “The guards? You mean her mates? If you’re bringing an accusation against Annora, then they have every right to attend this meeting.”
