DIRTY BLOOD | TR ✔︎

TWENTY ➢ WYATT

Footsteps are what wake me up.

Tom is still wrapped around me, his arm draped over my hips and his hand up near my head. Even breaths leave him and my eyes flick to the clock beside our bed.

3:03 a.m.

My chest tightens as my eyes struggle to adjust to the lack of light. Someone is in the room with us, I can hear the heavy breaths.

I turn slowly, attempting to wake up Tom.

And then I see it.

The silhouette of a person, glowing red eyes. He stands over Tom, looking down at the two of us.

"Do you know what time it is?" He asks, voice wispy, almost snake-like with hisses. "It's the Devil's hour."

And then he's grabbing ahold of Tom and I in a bruising grasp, the world warping around us.

Terror rips at my throat in the form of screams, but nothing travels anywhere. No one can hear me screaming because the next time I open my eyes, I'm on a concrete floor with a massive snake just a few inches from my face.

Tom is on his feet now, frantically searching for me. And once his eyes are on mine, he falters. He sees the snake, he recognizes the place, he glares murderously at his father.

"I see we've been keeping secrets from one another." His father says, voice rasping.

I struggle to move slowly, backing away from the snake. The lace of my bralette makes the ground slippery, but with every movement of mine is a movement the snake copies.

"How'd you find us?" Tom asks, voice eerily cold.

"Well, when I learned you weren't attending your classes or finding the locket as you were tasked with, I thought about where you might've run off to." Voldemort says, lips cracking into a sinister grin. "You were always annoyingly obsessed with your mother. Even after I rid you of her."

I flick my eyes around the room, spotting a few familiar faces.

Bellatrix Lestrange, Theodore Nott, Mattheo Riddle, and—my heart drops.

Mona Monhagen.

Her jaw is tight as she stares at me, lifeless eyes devoid of any emotion.

This isn't the same Mona I'd met six months ago. This Mona is different.

She's wrapped head-to-toe in black mummy-like fabric. A sheer cape dangles from her shoulders, her head hooded and dark makeup surrounding her eyes. Strapped to every visible extremity are knives.

"Let her go." Tom says coldly, moving towards his father.

"Ah, ah, ah," Bellatrix cackles, "close enough, traitor."

"Silence." Voldemort demands, Bellatrix's mouth popping shut.

Voldemort looks towards me, his head tilting. "A mudblood? You've fallen in love with a mudblood. Do you know how disappointing you are?"

Tom doesn't say anything. He doesn't argue or fight back and it's the first time I'm seeing him where he looks entirely hopeless.

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouts.

Tom's body drops to the floor, convulsing as tortured screams leave his mouth. I can physically see bones snapping in half and repairing only to break again.

I squeeze my eyes closed and turn my head, his screams engraving themselves into the parts of my mind that I wished would stay hidden.

"Over here, mudblood." Voldemort demands.