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CHAPTER THIRTEEN / ACT ONE
I Can't Let You Die
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The sharp sting of vervain brushed against Angelina's cheek, awakening her from her slumber. She let out a loud groan of pain as her eyes slowly adjusted to her dark surroundings.
The cold air made her tremble, but she couldn't warm herself as her wrists were bound to a chair. She looked around the dimly lit space, realizing she was in a basement packed with various tools. She gazed down at her body and observed ropes around her ankles and wrists, but her focus slowly turned to the figure who bowed down to reach her eye level.
Her bones felt like they were on fire and she almost couldn't breathe. Her skin was as cold as snow and an odd taste lingered in her mouth.
She casted a glance to the side of the room, where a swarm of other men, presumably other vampires that she was too distracted by the current situation to recognize, stood watching her.
"Finally," The voice said, which she recognized as Fredricks. "You're awake." He said, though she remained quiet and glared at him.
"Pathetic." He spat before plunging a wooden stake in the side of her stomach, a loud scream from her mouth, the pain from the stake feeling 100 times worse. "145 years left starving in a tomb thanks to you and your sister." He began.
"First two weeks, every single nerve in your body screams with fire. The kind of pain that can drive a person mad. I thought you might've wanted to get a taste of that before I kill you."
"Trust me," The Petrova muttered, her voice hoarse and weak. "I've dealt with far worse pain than you can do ever give me. So you might as well just kill me now."
He softly chuckled before rising from the ground, grabbing gloves from a nearby table and sliding them on his hands. He then took a step over to the ropes that were holding the brunettes' hands together and pulled as hard as he could. Angelina's bloodcurdling screams echoed across the room once again as she felt her body worsen.
