Page 65 of Dark Night of the Soul

“It hurts!” The words ripped from her.

“Make it stop,” she cried, clutching her head. “I can’t—”

What the fuck—

She launched herself at me. But this time it was different. It was her—not what they’d turned her into.

“Your…hands…!” She gasped, reaching for me.

I froze.

Her hands landed on mine, her fingers digging into my palms. The bite of her nails. Her breathing was ragged. Raspy. Like she couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs.

She tipped her head back. Looked up at me. Her skin was coated in sweat. Her cheeks damp. Her features contorted in pain.

And then she collapsed.

I wasn’t fast enough to catch her.

I dropped to my knees. Felt for her pulse. It was there. Beating too fast. Her face was pale. Her shirt damp.

She was alive. But something deep inside her had been tampered with.

What the fuck happened in that hospital?

I thought I knew. Didn’t want to accept it. Didn’t want to acknowledge they would do that to her.

But wouldn’t they?

I ran through both attacks in my mind. Searching for the pattern.

The first time, I’d moved too fast at the window. Quick. Precise. Combat-ready.

The second time, I’d reached for her wrist. Two fingers. Checking her pulse.

Different actions. Same result.

What was the constant?

Me.

My proximity. My touch. The way I moved when I was near her.

In the cell, she told me the Brotherhood handed her over to the Knights.

They’re going to use me like they did her.

Her words echoed back to me.

A cold realization settled in my chest. They’d altered her. But not to become a super dream walker, like her mother. To become something else. Something more dangerous. Something lethal.

To me.

The Knights weaponized her against me. Likely on the orders of the Brotherhood. Sebastian’s orders.

I rose, grabbed the thin blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over her legs.

And waited.