Book 8: Your Mate or Your Baby?

Evander

Water pours down the walls in steady, frigid streams. My head aches, and the smell of blood hangs thick in the air as I try to open my eyes for the fourth time in the last five minutes. 

I think my skull might be cracked. I reach up to rub my throbbing temples but wince when I flex my hands. 

My fingers are shattered. 

“Syd?” I croak into the darkness. 

“I’m still alive,” he replies groggily. 

I open my eyes to slits. Faint light fills my vision. It’s enough to cause a searing pain to ripple through my brain. “Where do you think we are?”

“One-hundred-percent underground,” he answers shortly somewhere beside me. 

I reach for him, unsure how far away he is, but the manacles binding each wrist to heavy chains only allow me to stretch my arms so far. 

We’ve been here for a day at least. No food or drink has been offered. No one has come to see us or talk to us. The gaping wo