Don't Let Go (Third Book to the Other Side)

Chapter Twenty Six (The Lost Warrior)

A hand gripped hold of my chin, forcing it up. I flinched away, hands raised to protect myself. "Don't touch me!" I screamed, a bit of the innate fear taking over.

"You're not really in the position to be making commands," the King retorted, his voice terribly close to my ear, to the point where I could feel his warm breath against my skin.

"George, leave him alone."

My head shot up at that voice, allowing myself to take in the sight of him. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, wings folded. He wore all black, an outfit that looked just... wrong. No life, no color, no bright vibrancy. And the way his eyes swept over me, devoid of feeling. Devoid of love.

I turned away, unable to look at him for a second longer.

"What exactly do you think you're doing here?" the King asked, complying with Thomas and thankfully stepping away from me. He strode to the table in the middle of the room and sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side. I could feel his gaze searching through me, as though trying to uncover all of my secrets. Thomas lingered for a moment too long, and I know I didn't imagine the brief look of concern that passed over his face.

"Are you okay?"

Thomas?

"Yeah, it's me."

Thank the stars. Relief gushed through me, and judging by the way the corners of his mouth tugged up a little, I could tell it spilled into him as well through our shared connection. I was worried you had...well, defected.

"That's my thing." His great wings unfurled and carried him across the room, setting him down to the right of the King's chair.

What?

"Stars. That's my thing." A pause, as if unsure how to proceed. "Sorry, I just thought that was cute."

Before I could say more, the King spoke, snapping my full attention back to him. "You haven't answered me. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I snapped, pushing myself to my feet and drawing a dagger. One of the soldiers who had thrown me to the ground stepped forward, his sword raised to strike, but he stopped in his tracks the moment King George waved a hand.

"There are other ways I can get it out of you, you know."

Thomas bristled, and if it was bad enough to make him squirm, then I doubt I wanted to find out what the other ways entailed.

"Is it just you?"

"Yes."

"Is it really?"

Can you let me focus, please? I snapped back at him. He stiffened, shifting a little, and I instantly felt terrible. Sorry, I didn't mean that.

He didn't respond.

"Well, Alexander," the King said, taking great delight in how slowly my name rolled off of his lips, "I'm afraid we are going to have to kill you. It's such a shame, especially after all the work I put in keeping you trapped in that damned world." He shook his head, as though I was nothing more than a doll that could be discarded whenever he was finished playing with it. "Guards?"

Footsteps beat against the marble flooring, in rhythm with my own frantic heartbeat. I glanced past the King and Thomas at the window sunken in the opposing wall, staring at the reflection of one of the guards with a sharpened sword drawing closer and closer with each passing second. I closed my eyes, trying to summon my energy, but with a panicked start, I realized it was gone. Ripped from my hands. Frozen to the spot by some unseen hands keeping me in place, I could do nothing but hope and pray and—