CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: CLARK ENDLESS
Ben was annoying. At this moment in time, he was kicking the bars of the cell. Or trying to. “Give up,” I told him.
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes seething with rage. “No.”
I groaned. “You’re being annoying.”
“Well, you’re being pathetic,” he replied.
“Pathetic?” I said. “Currently, I’m being held in an iron cell. I have no magic. The handcuffs on my wrists are burning my skin. I’m being held hostage by my own people. What would you have me do?”
“Fight,” he told me, “Emma is trapped in hell! With your child! Shouldn’t that make you want to escape?”
“I do,” I answered, “but there’s nothing that we can do right now. You’re not magic and we have guards watching us. There’s nothing that we can do.”
Ben stopped kicking. His face was flu
