Free Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) by Lindsey Stell Page B

slice. Their screams fill the air, mingling with my own howls and the rough voices of their murderers. Pain rips through my soul, and everything good in me drains away as their blood soaks into the ground.
    This is anguish. This is my heart being ripped from my chest as the world screams in agony around me. There is so much death, so much pain. My entire life has been reduced to this flash of gore and violence. Splashes of blood streak across my vision and I frantically try to wipe it away, not knowing if it is my own or of someone I love. A scream boils up from deep inside me, wrenching from my body in one massive explosion of terror and rage. I am grabbed and beaten with a heavy hand, but still the shriek continues, never ending until I am coughing up rivers of blood. There will be no way to recover from this horror. There is no way to stop the screaming. They can butcher me as well, bury me in the ground even, but my screaming will never stop.
    I wake up frantic, chest heaving, and with tears running down my face. Unable to catch my breath, my sheer panic could rip me apart. Strong arms wrap around me, holding me as I am wracked again and again with desperate sobs. He pulls me hard against him, running his hand down my back and through my hair, trying to sooth away the terror of my dream. He rocks me gently, his lips touching lightly against my forehead. It seems like hours, but the sobbing finally slows, morphing instead into slow tears of exhaustion. I have cried myself out. He leans back slightly and looks down at me, his face full of concern and fear.
    "Just a nightmare," I tell him, untangling one of my hands from his shirt to wipe my face.
    "That was one hell of a nightmare."
    "Yes." I say quietly. "It was."
    "We could talk about it if you wanted to."
    "I don't even remember much, just a lot of pain . . . and blood."
    "Will you be alright?"
    "Yes, I think so. Thank you for . . . helping me."
    "I suppose I should go," he says without making a move to do so.
    "Do you have to? I mean . . . I know it's wrong to ask, but could you stay? I won't tell anyone."
    He tightens his arm around me and brushes my damp hair out of my face. He lies back on the bed, pulling me down with him. I have a fleeting pang of guilt, that reoccurring feeling of betrayal. Pushing it deep down in my heart, I snuggle closer to Grayson. I am probably crossing a line that will be difficult to come back from, but for just this moment, I couldn't care less. Something deep inside me was obviously broken, and lying next to this stranger made it feel so much better. Was I wrong for that?
    In the morning, I open my eyes to an empty bed. Relieved, disappointed, and embarrassed all at the same time, I roll over and bury my face in his pillow. I climb out of bed and try to straighten my gown back out, but it is hopelessly wrinkled. Eyeing the closet, I hope it's packed full of clothes like the one in the safe house, but it's empty. Disappointed, I walk over to the dresser and pull the drawers open one by one. In the bottom, I find a gown folded neatly and pushed toward the back. It's not as nice as the one I am wearing but at least it's neater. The red linen is a little shorter than the white gown, stopping just below my knees, and the one shoulder is held together with tiny gold pins. The dress is both simple and beautiful.
    When I make my way into the kitchen, I am met with astonished looks and barely contained laughs. I look down at my dress, run my hands through my hair, and look behind me. What are they giggling about? Grayson walks in, stopping in his tracks when he sees me, his face turning bright red. Is he having a stroke? He casts a horrified look at his men before rushing across the room and grabbing my arm. He hauls me back up the stairs like a child, the back of his neck and ears bright red. What have I done? He drags me into the room and slams the door.
    "I'm sorry!" I cry. "I don't know what I did but I'm sorry!"
    "Where did you get that