Instinct ordered me to snatch and strangle, but I restrained. Jim was right; Eleanor was the biggest set of handcuffs I needed. Knowing that my actions increased or decreased her lifespan was enough for me to lie there perfectly still while a guard unlocked my right handcuff and then my left.

Sit up.

Sit up!

The urge to get off the wire bottom was unbearable. I jack-knifed up, groaning in misery and absolute relief.

My spine rolled. My legs bent. Pain swarmed.

I almost passed out, clinging to awareness with difficulty.

I’d never thought sitting would be so rewarding.

Vertigo found me, sloshing my insides as my head pounded. My leg passed painful and entered a realm of burning hellfire. I was hot-cold, hot-cold, jittery and shivery.

I was weak and beaten and so fucking fucked off that all my control had been stripped away.

“I’m coming inside, Sinclair.”

I nodded, backing up and creating space in the cramped prison for a visitor. Bumping into the wire behind me, Eleanor gasped right by my ear.

Fuck.

I couldn’t control it.

The need.

The paralyzing thirst to touch.

My hands fumbled against the bars, slipping through and finding her.

Holy shit.

The chemistry that’d overrode Euphoria and elixir—the spark of power that only grew stronger the deeper I fell—crackled in my bleeding fingertips.

She gasped, feeling it too. Our bodies in-sync. Our bond unbreakable despite how much I hated that she’d come back.

My head bowed as my fingers found her cheek.

Her breath caught as she kissed my thumb, her skin so soft, her hair still damp from the rain. “Goddammit, Eleanor.” Bringing her face toward me, I closed my useless eyes, focusing on the tingly proximity of her rather than my broken sight.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her breath feathering on my lips just as I found her mouth.

I kissed her.

I convulsed with sorrow and sadness as her familiar taste and comfort slipped through my bleeding body and into my heart. My skin prickled. My chest squeezed. My nose, even scrambled by bleach and stench, recognised her subtle delicious fragrance.

She smelled like my sea.

She smelled like me...an extension of my sex and soul.

A loud twang sounded, ripping us apart. “No kissing!” the mercenary snapped. “No touching.”

“Leave them be. They’re both dead tomorrow,” Dr Campbell muttered, his body brushing against my legs as he set down his medical bag, the leather creaking in my ears.

It hurt me worse than any torture Drake had done, but I released Eleanor and sat back in my cage. I fought the curse of her, the jinx she’d put on me. If I’d known this would be our ending, I would’ve denied my need for her.

I would’ve set her free the second she appeared.

“Sully...”

“Don’t.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, doing my best to shove away my debilitating pain and stay awake. Sitting up stole the rest of my energy. Nausea climbed up my gullet. I hated the blackness of my world—the unknown threats lurking right outside. “How many men are in here with us?” I asked the doctor.

His clothing rustled. “Three currently, but another two are outside.”

“Can you take the pins out of his fingers?” Eleanor’s voice wobbled. “They’re still stabbing his right hand.”

I splayed my fingers, seeing nothing. I’d gone past sensation. I’d blocked out the discomfort to focus on the worst parts.

Campbell lowered his voice, slipping to an audible I might not have heard if I still had sight. “Sinclair...I’ve brought a few of the noncompliant serums and pharmaceuticals. Do you give me permission to administer?”

My mind raced. After years in the business of drug manufacturing, we had crates of failed experiments and unapproved medicines. Some were rightfully denied—causing worse side effects than the original problem. But some...some were just too potent to be approved.

Those would decimate the industries and cause anarchy in the public sector because to them...they were miracles. Drugs that could work in a fraction of the time as others. Creams that could reverse damage in a few hours. Nanobots injected in a fluid that could knit flesh together from the inside out faster than any surgeon.

I had no idea he had a stash on my shores.

Gritting my teeth, I nodded. “Use whatever you want. I need to be able to walk. To see. To fight.”

He cleared his throat, taking my right hand and using a pair of tweezers to remove the nails holding the fingerprint sensors against my flesh. “There might be side effects that we can’t foresee.”

“I’m aware.”

Eleanor sucked in a breath. Following our conversation, she understood the risks but wisely stayed silent.

Removing the final nail, Campbell sighed and settled into his task. “In that case...let’s begin.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I NEVER TOOK MY eyes off Dr Campbell as he pulled the buds from Sully’s ears and threw them away in disgust. “Chilli in someone’s ears? He’s a madman.”

Sully winced. “I told you I was the sane one.”

My trust was a shattered thing by my feet.

Was Dr Campbell part of this war or had he been caught in the middle of it?

Who was our enemy, and who was loyal?

“Is Cal still alive?” Sully murmured, keeping his voice too low for the guards to hear.

The doctor nodded. “He’s made it through the past few days. He’s getting stronger but still hasn’t woken.”

Cal?

What happened to Cal?

Sully nodded, flinching as Dr Campbell cleaned his face, throat, arms, and hands with antiseptic wipes, smearing away as much blood and sweat as he could. “The massacred guards? Are they rotting on my beach?”

The doctor blanched. “No, he dragged them out to sea. There’s no evidence of what happened.”

Sully sat unmoving, callous. “And Skittles?”

Skittles?

My heart fisted. “What about Skittles?”

Sully’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t reply, allowing the doctor to speak. “She’s recovering too. Her wing will mend.”

“Her wing?” I blurted.

“She broke it,” Sully muttered. “Trying to defend me.” His jaw clenched; the cords of sinew visible in his neck as he struggled with the truth. “I’m sorry, Jinx.”

“Sorry?” I struggled against the rope trapping my hands. I needed to touch him again. It was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that calmed my heart even though it existed in a hopscotching, hiccupping mess. “Don’t apologise. She loves you. She—”

“I put her in danger. Just like I put you in—” He hissed between his teeth as the doctor stabbed the back of Sully’s hand, inserting a new needle and bag of antibiotics.

“This is concentrated. I don’t like your fever, Sinclair. We need to lower your temperature if you’re to stay conscious.”

I bit my lip, forcing myself not to ask questions about Skittles and the drugs that Sully had agreed to take. What sort of side effects? How deadly could this be?

For the next fifteen minutes, I stayed silent while the doctor did his best to put Sully back together again. I watched as he smeared black cream over the bloody abrasions around his wrists and ankles.