Chapter 326 - 60: Subdue

Destiny watched helplessly as Henrik wrapped the heavy iron chains around Dane, securing them with the metallic click of the built-in lock. The cold reality of the sound echoed off the high ceiling before Henrik turned toward the heavy oak door.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the heavy sounds of Henrik’s boots soon faded down the corridor, leaving the study steeped in a cold, fragile silence.

Destiny dropped to her knees beside the leather chair, her knees striking the cold wood, and took Dane’s trembling hand in hers. His skin felt dry, feverish, and unnaturally hot. The affliction was no longer merely burning through his bloodstream; it was crawling beneath his skin, pulsing in thick, violet-black strands that spread from his wrist toward his arm and chest. Each heavy throb mimicked the rhythm of an extra, unnatural heart beneath his flesh.

"The good news," Destiny whispered, her voice soft and trembling as her thumb traced the jagged, blackened mark on his wrist, "is that you have everything for the antidote to end your pain and suffering. You have the stone and you can sacrifice my life."

Dane shuddered violently, a deep tremor wracking his frame. He tightened his grip around her hand until her knuckles bruised, his yellow eyes widening as he locked his gaze onto hers through a haze of agony.

"No," he rasped, his voice breaking on the edge of a cough. "I won’t hurt you, Destiny. Henrik believes we can find another way."

For a few fleeting seconds, he seemed to steady himself, anchoring his sanity to her presence.

Then his fingers suddenly locked around hers with terrifying force.

Dane’s head rolled back against the high leather chair, the wood groaning under his weight. His eyes remained wide open, but a sickly, milky yellow film spread across his irises as the affliction surged violently up his neck.

"The roots," he muttered. His voice was distant. "They’re drinking the fog, Destiny. She’s got... she’s got the red string in her mouth. See it? Pull it out of her."

"Dane?"

His shoulders jerked violently against the bindings, the iron links snapping taut.

"Dane, stop. Look at me!"

He didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze was fixed on empty air, tracking horrors only he could see.

His body suddenly bucked against the restraints, the chains rattling hard against the oak chair. Destiny grabbed his shoulders, pressing her weight down to keep him from fracturing his own bones against the iron, but Dane threw his head forward with sudden, terrifying force. His forehead nearly struck her face, the wind of the motion whistling past her cheek.

"Dane!"

He snarled.

His lips pulled back from his bloodless teeth as he lunged toward her again, the iron links snapping violently tight against his wrists. Destiny stumbled backward, her boots slipping on the floor as she barely avoided his snapping jaw. His teeth clamped down empty air inches from her trembling hand.

"Get away from him!"

The heavy study door slammed open against the stone frame, the iron handle bouncing off the wall.

Hannah stood in the doorway, breathless, her chest heaving and her eyes wide with terror after running ahead from the main house. Her gaze immediately locked onto the black veins creeping like shattered glass across Dane’s neck.

"Fuck, Dane!"

She rushed into the room, skirts rustling, and dropped to her knees beside Destiny on the floor.

"He’s losing control," Destiny said, her voice frantic as Dane continued thrashing against the chair, foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. "It’s spreading too fast!"

Heavy, deliberate footsteps sounded behind Hannah.

Henrik stepped into the room.

He took in the chaotic scene with one cold, sweeping glance. Dane was still straining against his bonds, his breathing ragged and wet, his eyes entirely clouded with yellow film. When Destiny reached out a hand toward him again, Dane snapped his teeth viciously toward her fingers.

Henrik moved without hesitation.

He stepped behind the chair and drew his broadsword. The steel came free with a sharp, grating scrape, but instead of swinging the edge, he reversed his grip in a fluid motion and brought the heavy brass pommel down hard against the side of Dane’s neck.

A dull, sickening crack echoed through the study.

Dane’s body went limp at once. The tension evaporated from his muscles, his jaw fell open, and his head slumped forward heavily against his chest.

Hannah recoiled, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at Henrik in disbelief.

"You hit him!"

"He was about to bite her," Henrik said, his tone flat and unyielding. "If those chains had failed, Destiny would have been the first person he tore apart."

"He was sick!"

"I know."

Henrik crouched beside the chair and pressed two thick fingers against the side of Dane’s neck, checking his pulse. It was still there, but it was rapid, thready, and wildly uneven.

Destiny pressed her own trembling fingers against the other side of Dane’s throat, her breath coming in ragged, terrified hitches. She could feel the black veins throbbing unnaturally under her skin.

"He’s getting worse," she said, looking up with dark, panicked eyes. "The spread is accelerating. If we leave him in this room, there won’t be anything left of him by midnight."

Henrik looked down at the dark, poison-filled veins crawling past Dane’s collarbone toward his jawline.

"Then we don’t leave him here."

Destiny stared up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. "What are you going to do?"

"Take him to the temple."

Without another word, Henrik reached down and clicked the key into the lock, unwinding the iron chains from around Dane’s bruised wrists.

Destiny’s eyes widened. "The chains?"

"They’ve served their purpose," he replied grimly. "They won’t hold him if the affliction takes him completely anyway."

He pulled Dane forward, letting the unconscious man’s head roll onto his shoulder, and slipped one arm beneath his arms. With his other hand, he caught Dane around the waist and hauled him effortlessly from the chair. Dane’s tall, limp frame sagged heavily against him like a corpse.

"Come on," Henrik grunted, adjusting his grip. "Help me get him up."

Destiny scrambled to her feet, grabbed Dane’s uninjured arm, and draped it over her shoulders to help steady his weight as Henrik shifted the bulk of the man onto his back.

"The temple?" she asked, panic lacing her words as they began to move toward the door. "You mean the inner courtyard? The priestesses?"

A short, breathy laugh escaped her chest, sharp and bitter, entirely devoid of humor.

"Ah, yes. The holy women who hate my very existence. Wonderful plan. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see me at their doorstep."

"They will know how to use the stone," Henrik said, his deep voice cutting straight through her cynicism. "And more importantly, they know what your blood can do."

Destiny’s expression tightened, her jaw clenching as a cold wave of dread washed over her.

Henrik marched steadily down the stone corridor, the weight of Dane hanging heavily over his shoulder.

"They’re the only ones who might be able to forge a cure without killing you in the process," he added.

Destiny’s gaze dropped to Dane’s face. He looked deathly pale beneath the grime and sweat, and even as she watched, another thin, dark line branched out beneath his jaw, reaching toward his cheek.

"Right," she muttered, tightening her grip on his arm.

Dane released a low, unconscious groan, his head rolling listlessly against Henrik’s shoulder.

Hannah hurried ahead, her shoes striking rapidly against the cold stone floor as she rushed toward the side exit, clearing the heavy doors to ensure their path was open.

Destiny stayed locked at Henrik’s side, one hand holding Dane’s clammy arm while her eyes remained hyper-focused on the dark, living poison creeping steadily toward his face.

They weren’t just running out of time. The veins were moving faster now.

Much faster.