Freya‘s pov.

Once again, I was chained.

Once again, my blood dripped steadily into tubes and vials.

But this time, it wasn’t Alaric overseeing it.

It was Theon.

Theon, who once said he loved me. Theon, who now stood with glazed-over eyes and whispered delusions to the air. Whatever Alaric had done to him, it had twisted his mind into something unrecognizable.

“My beautiful Freya,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I flinched at ...