Ronan

Chapter Two

I know this place.

Of course she did. She'd spent some of the worst months of her life here.

And some of the best.

Ha! As if that were hard to beat.

The bar's on the floor.

Her head spun from the forced portal jump. She blinked back the exhaustion and wayward tears before they could fall. Strands of sweaty red hair blocked her gaze as she fought to get her bearings. As she came to terms with the fact she'd been stolen. That this place wasn't heaven anymore.

So much for no more walks through the past.

Hell had such an awful tinge to it.

Would you adam and eve my luck?

Above her, the sky was a soft purple like it'd been bruised. There were no stars to light it, no clouds to mar it, only the moon. A crescent moon.

More bad luck?

A crescent moon probably meant something big to the witches.

She stood on mud and rocks and dried up weeds and lost, decaying matter. Nettles curled into her ankles. The scrape of them over her skin brought her no pain. Her body was numb. This land wasn't built for travel.

The land was dead.

Dying.

She chose not to focus on—or think about—what that meant.

Death, death, and, uh, more death.

This place was rotting.

My grave will look fantastic next to that dead tree.

A land so hellish and beaten down that not even a rat would inherit it.

At least my grave won't have a rodent problem.

She'd heard they ate the eyes of corpses first. Can't have a rat feasting on my best feature.

Her voice caught in her throat.

The trees, even twenty years ago, had never looked alive. But now they curled into each other, leafless branches huddled together. Even the trees were weeping, their branches drawn towards the ground. Mud crumbled as she shook on her feet. Her breath fogged up in the air of the night. Cold. Had it always been so cold here?

Here lies Rosa. Rest and rot, bitch.

This was the worst day of her life.

I can't be here.

Gods, no. She'd rather they killed her on impact. To have her very life sucked from her bones was a kinder end than what would become of her here.

They're taking me to him.

They couldn't. Rosa couldn't be here. But she couldn't fight it.

A gloved hand held each of her arms. She was flanked by warlocks on either side. To the left, to the right, directly behind. She almost laughed that none stood before her. The bastard wouldn't rob her of this view. He'd want her to remember. To understand. To accept that there'd be no escaping. This was her fate now. Her life, like always, was in his hands. His gloved hands. Heaven forbid someone touches him.

She'd touched him once. A million times.

None of that will matter now.

She sure as fuck wasn't touching him again.