Chapter 66 The Last Breath Before the Fall
Amara
“Tsk, tsk, little one — you’re almost out of time.”
Killian’s voice crackled through unseen speakers, low and guttural, vibrating in my chest like distant thunder.
My eyes darted around. Mirrors — everywhere. Ceiling to floor, wall to wall — endless, fractured reflections staring back at me. My face multiplied, distorted, trapped in a maze of glass. The door behind me latched shut with a mechanical snap.
“What are you going to do now, little one?” His laugh rumbled like gravel.
“Here — I’ll give you a hand.”
With a hydraulic hiss, a mirror on the far wall lifted, revealing a dark door behind it.
He’s not helping. He’s hunting. Every “option” was a trap; every move, a test.
My pulse thudded. I scanned for flaws — tiny cracks, weak seams, hidden hinges — anything.
“Tsk, tsk,” his voice mocked, sharper now. “Two minutes left. Walk through the door, kneel, beg my forgiveness — and I’ll make sure your friends’ punishment is light.”
Light? There was no light in this house. Only the weight of cruelty.
Then I saw it — one mirror’s edge glinted differently, a faint shimmer where the frame didn’t align. I sprinted, boots scraping against slick tile, and yanked hard. The panel resisted, then gave way with a metallic groan.
Got you.
A cold gust hit me as I climbed through. Metal scraped against my skin as gravity yanked me down the chute.
Killian’s laughter echoed all around me, twisting through the metal. “Run, little one… run while you can.”
The chute spat me out into a crimson room — walls glistening like wet paint, the air thick with the scent of copper. A single door waited across the way. Then the walls began to move.
“What—” My breath caught.
The red panels slid inward, slow at first, then faster, a mechanical growl filling the air.
“You won’t win this,” his voice boomed. The speakers vibrated so hard the floor trembled. “Give it up, little one.”
Not a chance.
I ran, lungs burning, feet pounding. The space shrank with every step — air tightening, panic clawing at my throat. The door — so close. I dove, flinging it open and sliding through just as the walls crashed shut behind me with a deafening clang.
I rolled to my knees, chest heaving. The new hallway stretched long and narrow, lined with… pictures.
My stomach turned to ice.
Me.
Sleeping.
Every photograph — my face slack, hair splayed across a pillow. Some were close-ups — my hand curled against my cheek, my lips parted — intimate.
“What the fuck…” I whispered, voice trembling. Every step forward brought another frame, another invasion.
A low hum filled the air. Then — BZZZZZZZ.
A blaring, piercing alarm split the silence. I dropped to my knees, palms to my ears, teeth clenched against the sound.
“Time’s up, little one.”
The door at the end burst open.
Killian emerged — calm, smiling, a predator already certain of his meal.
I forced myself to stand, legs shaking, fists clenched. “Come on then.”
He laughed — a dark, rich sound that made the air feel heavier. “You think you can take me? That’s adorable.” His gaze swept over me. “Still… I’m impressed. Didn’t think you’d make it this far.”
I didn’t answer. My eyes locked on the glint of metal behind him — a lever. My fingers tightened around the shard of glass still wrapped in my shirt, blood dripping down my wrist.
No time to plan. Just move.
I ran. Dropped low. Slid across the slick floor — the glass flashing upward.
He roared as it buried deep into his leg.
“AMARA!” His voice cracked with fury.
I didn’t stop. I lunged for the lever, grabbed it, and yanked with everything in me.
A sharp hiss filled the room — gears shifting, a hidden panel clanking open.
Killian stumbled, clutching his bleeding thigh. “You— you little—”
But I was gone, scrambling into the dark hole that yawned open in the wall. Metal scraped my knees and forearms as I crawled through the air duct, the steel rattling with every breath.
Ahead — faint light. A vent. Freedom.
“Release the gas,” his voice thundered behind me.
A hiss exploded in the tunnel. Cold air blasted against my back.
I coughed hard, pulling the bloody shirt from my hand and pressing it over my mouth. My lungs screamed. Move, move, move!
The light grew brighter. My fingers stretched toward it, trembling, so close I could almost feel the sun—
Then everything went black.
When consciousness returned, it came in fragments — the ache of my wrists, the metallic taste of blood, the static buzz of a TV.
I blinked. The room swam into focus. Phoebe — chained again, gagged. Thomas — slumped, eyes narrowed but alive.
“What… happened?” My voice was raw, shredded.
Phoebe’s muffled cry was soft, frantic.
“You almost made it,” Thomas rasped. His voice was gravel, low and tired.
“I… failed.” The memory hit — the gas, the crawl, the final breath before nothing.
“He made us watch,” Thomas said. “You did good, kid. Should’ve aimed a little higher — he’d have bled out in minutes.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I wanted to get us out.”
A rumble of a laugh escaped him. “Don’t kid. Consider me impressed. No wonder my brother likes you.”
Liam.
The name caught in my throat. Where are you?
Thomas shifted, chains rattling. “Hey, kid… that hand still bleeding?”
I glanced down — dried blood, torn skin. “It’s dry.”
“Good.” He leaned forward, voice low. “Then you’re gonna make it bleed again.”
My brows knit. “Why?”
“Just do it,” he growled. “Trust me.”
I dug my nails into the wound. Pain flared sharp and hot, but I gritted through it. We had no other option.
“Good. Now — get it on the wrist. Right where the cuff sits.”
Realization clicked. I smeared the blood along the leather restraint, slicking it, twisting my wrist. It burned.
“Don’t stop,” he urged.
I pressed harder, teeth grinding, heart pounding. The blood made the cuff slippery — my skin screamed — then snap — my hand slid free.
I ripped the other loose, jerking until the leather tore. The cuff broke open.
Adrenaline surged. I jumped to my feet, ran to Thomas, spinning the release wheel. His chains fell slack and he hit the floor with a heavy thud.
“Good job, kid.” He exhaled, flexing his wrists. “Now listen — here’s the plan.”
He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper — and for the first time, a glimmer of hope flickered in the dark.