Chapter 202

Chapter 202
Citlali

Layla woke when the door clanged shut. She tried to help me eat, holding the bowl to my cracked lips, but I could barely swallow. Each attempt made my throat burn, made my broken jaw throb, made my stomach churn with nausea. The food tasted like ash and blood.

"Please," Layla whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Please, Citlali, you have to eat something. You have to get stronger."

But we both knew it was pointless. Without my wolf's regeneration, these injuries would take weeks to heal naturally. And we didn't have weeks. We had hours, at most.

The light filtering through the high window slowly dimmed as afternoon gave way to evening. Layla stayed pressed against me, occasionally trying to get me to drink water or take a bite of bread. I managed a little, more for her sake than mine, but it felt like swallowing stones.

As the shadows lengthened, I felt Layla's body start to tremble.

"Citlali," she whispered, her voice small and breaking. "Please... please don't fight him anymore."

I tried to turn my head to look at her, but even that small movement sent pain lancing through my neck.

"I don't want to watch you die," she continued, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "I don't want to be left here alone. Please... just this once... do what he says..."

"I... can't..." The words came out as barely more than a rasp, my voice destroyed from screaming.

"Why not?" Layla was crying now, her tears falling hot on my face. "Why do you have to keep fighting? What does it matter anymore?"

I forced my working eye open, meeting her gaze. "If I... give in..." Each word was an effort, my throat raw and aching. "I won't be... myself anymore..."

"But you'll be alive!" she sobbed.

"I'd rather... die..." I managed, though the words cost me dearly. "Than become... that..."

"No!" Layla's hands clutched at me desperately. "Don't say that! If you die, what happens to me? What am I supposed to do?"

I squeezed her hand with what little strength I had left. "You'll... survive..." I whispered. "You have to... promise me..."

"I can't!" she wailed. "I can't do this without you!"

"Promise..." I insisted, pouring everything I had into that single word.

Layla was shaking, her whole body wracked with sobs. "I promise," she finally choked out. "But you have to promise me too. Promise me you'll live. No matter what. Even if it means... even if you have to..."

But I couldn't make that promise. Couldn't lie to her like that.

Because I'd already made my choice. If Ashford came back tonight, I would fight him until my last breath. I would die before I let him break me, before I gave him the satisfaction of seeing me kneel.

It was all I had left. This last shred of dignity. This final defiance.

I wouldn't let him win.

Night fell like an executioner's blade.

The familiar sounds began echoing through the corridor—heavy footsteps, doors opening and closing, the muffled cries of women who'd learned that resistance only made things worse. The guards' cruel laughter. The nobles' satisfied grunts.

Layla pressed herself against me, her whole body trembling. I wrapped my good arm around her, holding her as close as I could, feeling her heart hammering against my side like a trapped bird.

The footsteps grew closer. Stopped at other cells. Moved on. Came back.

And then they stopped outside our door.

I closed my eyes, every muscle in my body tensing despite the agony it caused. This was it. This was the end.

Layla was crying silently, her face buried against my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Citlali."

"Not... your fault..." I managed.

The door opened.

But the footsteps that entered weren't right. They weren't the heavy, deliberate tread of Ashford's expensive boots or the guards' military stride. These were lighter. Quicker. And there was only one person.

I forced my working eye open and saw a figure in a guard's uniform standing in the doorway. But the build was wrong. Too slight. Too... feminine.

The figure moved quickly, closing the door behind them with barely a sound, then turned to face us. They reached up and pulled off the cloth covering their face.

Kira's features appeared in the dim light.

I stared at her, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing. This had to be a hallucination. A fever dream. Maybe I'd already died and this was some kind of twisted afterlife.

But then Kira spoke, her voice low and urgent: "I knocked out the guard and took his keys. We don't have much time—they'll find him soon."

Kira? What the fuck is she doing here?

She moved toward me, pulling a key from her belt. Her hands were shaking as she unlocked the silver manacles around my wrists.

The moment the silver fell away, I felt a rush of... something. Not strength, exactly—I was still too injured for that. But the oppressive weight that had been crushing me lifted slightly.

Layla scrambled back, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You... you're going to save us?"

Kira nodded curtly. "Move. We have to leave before the guard change."

She bent down, sliding her arm under my shoulders. Layla rushed to help on my other side, and together they managed to get me to my feet.

But we moved. One agonizing step at a time, we moved.

We reached the corridor, and I saw them—the other cells, the other women. Their faces pressed against the bars, eyes wide with hope and desperation and envy.

I stopped.

"Wait," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"What are you doing?" Kira hissed. "We have to go!"

"The others." I looked at the faces in the cells, at the hands reaching through the bars. "We have to save them too."

Kira's expression hardened. "No. Citlali, we don't have time—"

"We can't leave them!" My voice came out stronger than I'd expected, fueled by desperation. The effort made me cough, blood flecking my lips, but I didn't care. "We have to try!"

"You'll get us all killed!" Kira grabbed my arm, her grip tight. "You can barely stand! How are you going to save anyone?"

"I don't care!" I tried to pull away from her, but my body betrayed me, my legs buckling. "I won't leave them!"

"Please," a voice called from one of the cells. "Please, take me with you."

"I have children," another woman begged. "I need to get back to them. Please..."

"Don't leave us here," a third whispered. "Please, don't abandon us..."

Each plea was a knife in my heart. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at them, at these women who'd pinned their hopes on me.

"Citlali," Kira said, her voice sharp. "Listen to me. I can't save them. Do you understand? I can't."

I stared at her, not understanding.

She took a deep breath, her composure cracking. "It was me who asked Prince Snow to let me do this. He gave me permission—for you and Layla only. Not the others."

"What?" The word came out strangled.