Six
Present
Skye
“Hunter?”
There’s a moment of stillness between us, like the room has fallen away and it’s only him before me now, covered in blood and scars, looking like a mammoth of a man, a giant monster your instincts tell you to run away from.
I’m dreaming.
This isn’t real.
I think I’m hallucinating.
But he drops his hand, his familiar gaze still laser focused on me. My vision spots as I fight the panic swirling like a vortex inside me.
I’ve died. That’s the only explanation. I was supposed to see Hunter in heaven—but we’re in Hell instead.
“Can we ever move on from our sins?” I asked him.
“No,” he answered. “They’ve left bite marks in us, Skye. We livewiththem.”
He looks just as troubled as me.
Just as confused.
Lost.
He must be deteriorating within like I am.
His dark eyes, filled with rage and darkness just moments ago, are now heavy with pain.
I’m sorry,I want to say.
Oh, my God, there is so much I have to be sorry for.
Holy shit, I am the worst human being, and he needs to know that.
Propelled to go to him, I take a step forward and stammer, “I’m sor—”
I’m grabbed once again by the arm and dragged away from him, my words cut short. There’s commotion behind me the instant my back is turned to him.
“Don’t touch her!” he shouts, voice feral. “Don’t fucking touch her!”
As I’m being forced out, a scuffle breaks out. The sound of chains rips through the air. I twist to look around when a flurry of men in robes burst into the room, armed to the teeth withswords.
What in the fuck is this?
I catch Hunter’s form in a crouched position, his hands working at a chain around his ankle I hadn’t noticed until now. His hands are wrapped around the eyebolt in the concrete ground he’s chained to, and he’s tugging hard with his giant hands, looking up at me with a desperate look in his eye. The robed men instantly surround him, obscuring him from me.
I get shoved again. “Face forward, whore.”
Before I can protest, we’re led back out of the fighting pit and my vision is instantly shrouded by another cover. I’m too scared to remove it. My body has broken into violent tremors, the shock of witnessing Hunter feet from me taking a tremendous toll on my tired body. I trip over my feet, lost in the darkness, the realization too much to bear.
This—this wasn’t supposed to happen.
This wasn’t part of the plan.