Chapter 283
Chapter 283:noveldrama
“Jasmine,” I breathed, my voice cracking.
Her gaze found mine, and I saw the confusion, the pain, and then—the anger. Raw, burning anger that set her eyes alight. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to shield her from everything, but I knew she wouldn’t want that. She didn’t need protection. She needed the truth.
And, Goddess help me, she needed them.
I squeezed her shoulder gently, grounding her. “We’re going to fix this,” I promised. “The Vipers know a witch who can break the blood tie.”
Her eyes widened, disbelief warring with anger. “Them? You brought them here?” The look she flashed me said it all.
I swallowed, my throat tight. “I didn’t want you to face this alone. I wanted you to know where you came from. But right now, they’re the only chance we’ve got.”
I gazed back at her.
She stared at me, hurt flickering across her face before she nodded, jaw tight. “Fine. Let’s break this damn tie. Then we can deal with everything else.”
I cupped her face, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “We’ll get through this, Jasmine. I promise.”
Jasmine’s POV
You know that feeling where you’re stuck in a nightmare, but you’re awake, and everything is just wrong? Like the air is too heavy, your skin too tight, and there’s a storm building right under your ribs, ready to blow? Yeah. That’s where I was.
The dark magic of the blood tie cut through my veins like ice-cold venom, and it was loving every second of making me suffer. My head pounded, my body screamed, and my chest felt like it was wrapped in steel bands—and not the fun kind.
The witch was here.
The room didn’t help. The lights were shaky, casting weird, twitchy shadows on the walls.
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The air stank of herbs, smoke, and something sharp and metallic—probably my own doom.
The witch in front of me, all frail-looking with her silver hair and eyes that said, I know shit you don’t, murmured ancient words.
To say I wasn’t scared is an understatement—it felt like I’d been slapped with fifty shades of nope, each one more dramatic than the last.
Her hands hovered above my head, like she was about to pluck the chaos straight out of my brain. Her voice resounded in my bones, making every nerve in my body stand on edge.
Ryder was close, his cologne wafting through my nose. Different thoughts clouded my head—what if it goes wrong? Would I ever inhale what Ryder smells like again?
His eyes locked onto mine, a silent I got you. Would I ever stare into those cute eyes of his again?
The Vipers—my parents. Their faces were pale, their eyes a mess of hope and fear. I didn’t want to look at them. But, of course, I did. Because apparently, some tiny, feral part of me still craved the idea that they actually cared.
The witch’s voice sharpened, slicing through the air. The darkness inside me twisted harder, like it was throwing a tantrum. My knees buckled, but falling wasn’t an option. Ryder’s hand slid into mine, warm and firm, keeping me grounded.
“Hold on,” he murmured, his voice rough, barely controlled. “Just a little longer.”
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.
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