Oberon Reformatory Book Three: Final Offense by Wendi Wilson

Author:Wendi Wilson [Wilson, Wendi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Not being able to tell my friends what I’ve learned is frustrating to the extreme. As soon as I left Echo’s wing of the building earlier, I attempted to say what I’d learned out loud, and nothing had happened. When Jax led me back to my cell, I shook my head at him and told him I had nothing to report.

Now, as I lay on my bed and count the cracks in the ceiling for the thousandth time, my mood is dipping lower and lower, bringing me to the verge of outright depression. Tears sting my eyes as I think of my sister, stuck in solitary confinement and scared out of her wits. She pretends to be strong and independent, but I know she needs me.

And the fact that I can’t be there for her right now when she needs me the most makes me want to throw up.

I wonder if she’s in my old cell. I wonder if Cassie can hear Robbie crying, and will try to console her as I did for the young faery when I was locked down there. I wonder if Robbie blames me for this.

I wouldn’t hold it against her if she does. This is all my fault.

If I hadn’t Glamoured my chaperone and snuck off instead of going on my grand tour of Europe like I was supposed to, I never would have ended up here. I wouldn’t have been in that club, wouldn’t have been harassed by that human, and I wouldn’t have killed him.

Great-grandpa Robin wouldn’t have asked me to help him figure out what was going on in this place, and Robbie wouldn’t have gotten herself sent here to try to help. She’d be at home, safe and sound in her bed, and I’d be in some chic café in Paris sipping coffee and eating chocolate truffles.

Echo wouldn’t have us in his grip—the two most powerful faeries that ever lived—and wouldn’t be able to use us against our parents.

This really was all my fault. One bad decision after another, and here we are. Imprisoned. Enslaved.

And there’s nothing I can say about it. Literally.

I doze off, but it’s a fitful sleep wrought with nightmares. Memories of what’s happened at the reformatory mingle with visions of the future. A future filled with war and pain. With death and despair.

My sleeping mind creates a vision of my parents, lying dead and bleeding in the street outside our home. I wake with a start, my heart pounding out of my chest as I try to catch my breath. I leap to my feet and pace the room, willing myself to calm down. It was just a dream.

But it’s up to me to make sure it doesn’t become a reality.

It’s bad enough that I allowed myself to be locked up in here for this long. I was supposed to do my time until my “grand tour” was over, then break free and go home like none of this ever happened.

I hadn’t counted on finding true friendship and real love in the meantime.

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