I stumbled out of the cactus pile on shaking legs. The spines on the soles of my feet had driven in so deep that cold sweat poured down my temples with every step.
I collapsed on the ground and began pulling the thorns out one by one. Each one came free with a bead of blood. Tears rolled down and mixed with it, dripping off my jaw.
That was the cruelty of it. Constant, grinding pain that wouldn't kill you. Just broke you down from the inside.
The Crowe men stood around me like spectators at a sideshow, laughing one moment, hurling insults the next.
Then Barrett's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression changed instantly, tension snapping across his face.
"Young master, you're back?"
"Already at the gate? I'll come meet you right now."
Declan. Was it Declan?
He was back. I was saved.
I lifted my head. For the first time in hours, something like hope flickered in my eyes. But the next second, Barrett's boot slammed into my face.
"What are you looking at? You really think you're going to see the young master?"
"Ha! Dream on."
"You lot, take her to the room. Time for the Final Trial."