My fingers throbbed with agony as I stared at the small hole I'd managed to dig. Blood from my torn fingernails smeared the dirt, and despite hours of effort, the opening remained far too small for escape. The tiny beam of moonlight that filtered through mocked me, offering a glimpse of freedom that remained agonizingly out of reach.
"Damn it all," I whispered, collapsing back against the cold stone wall.
Clara hadn't moved in hours. Her bruised face was barely recognizable—the Marquess had been particularly brutal after Duke Thorne's visit. I couldn't tell if she was still breathing.
My gaze shifted to the cellar door. I'd avoided attempting to force it open, knowing if Lucian caught me, the punishment would be severe. But what choice did I have now? Clara was dying, and my pathetic tunnel would take days more to complete.
I dragged myself across the dirt floor to where Clara lay crumpled.
"Clara?" I whispered, gently touching her shoulder. "Clara, can you hear me?"
