Damon's pov
She was still screaming, no longer begging as the guards dragged her to the dungeon as she continued to struggle with them.
The dungeons' chilly air which was heavy with moisture and the smell of rusted iron stuck to my body. The room feels tighter and smaller because of the sharp shadows created by the flickering torches on the stone walls.
Trixies fragile wrists were shackled to the chair in the middle of the room and the chains shook as she moved against them.
Despite the fact that every muscle in my body ached from exhaustion and my eyes almost closed as I fought against the substances in the drink, I watched her in silence breathing slowly.
The edges of my vision became blurry and my limbs felt heavier than they should have.
My strength was being eaten by the poison—no the sleeping pills—that remained in my system. But I wouldn't allow it to be seen.