The following day, I wake before the sun, driven by an urgency that won’t allow me to linger in bed a moment longer. In my hotel room, I quickly ready myself to continue the search for Amelia. The previous night, a witch had managed to narrow her location to the surrounding area. We had searched relentlessly until the first rays of dawn forced us to take some rest. But a mere three hours later, I’m back on my feet, fueled by a resolve that leaves no room for sleep – not while I know she’s out there, somewhere, in potential danger. Every fiber of my being rebels against complacency until she’s safely recovered.
I shower and dress quickly, my movements sharp and efficient as I gather my phone and wallet. As I reach for the door, the knob turns beneath my hand, and instinct takes over. In a blur of motion, I have the intruder pinned against the wall, my arm pressing into their throat as my claws dig into their chest, ready to rip out their heart at a moment’s notice.
“I missed you too,” Eric says, his voice strained but amused, a smile tugging at his lips despite the fact that I’m a hairsbreadth away from ending his life.
“Eric?” I release him, stepping back in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard,” he says simply, adjusting his rumpled shirt. The wounds on his chest have already healed, leaving no trace of my attack.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair, the weight of the situation crashing down on me anew. “I fear this time it’s worse. Lord Easterlin might be the one behind her abduction.”
Eric’s brow furrows. “Why do you suspect that?”
I explain about Amelia’s gifts, about how the witches who aided Ember would only do so at her father’s behest. As I talk, I can feel the dread settling like a lead weight in my gut, the implications of Easterlin’s involvement too horrific to contemplate.
“I think you’re right,” Eric says, his expression grim. “He must have sent Ember to kidnap her to throw you off.”
I nod, my jaw clenching. “That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
“But don’t worry,” Eric says, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll find her.”
“We have to, Eric. I can’t-” My voice cracks, the words lodging in my throat as a wave of despair threatens to pull me under. The thought of a world without Amelia, of never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh again, is a yawning void that threatens to swallow me whole.
“We will,” Eric promises, his grip tightening. “We won’t rest until she’s safe.”
AMELIA
I come to with a groan, every muscle in my body screaming in protest as I try to move. It takes a moment for the fog to clear from my mind for the reality of my situation to come crashing down with sickening clarity.
I’m hanging from the ceiling, my arms stretched above my head, the shackles biting into the tender skin of my wrists. My toes barely brush the ground as I sway gently, the motion sending fresh waves of agony through my battered body.
Panic claws at my throat as I take in my surroundings, the dank, dimly lit room offering no clues as to where I am now or how I got to this position. I try unmasking my scent again, but the same results. The bonds are laced with oak tree venom.
The sound of footsteps echoing off the stone walls has me masking my scent back, my heart pounding a frantic tattoo against my ribs. A moment later, Ember herself appears, her smile sharp and cruel as she takes in my helpless state.
“For a moment, I feared Dad might have killed you,” she says, her tone almost conversational as she approaches me. The mention of her father reminds my body of the bite mark on my neck that’s slowly healing. I won’t put it past them to have injected silver into my system by now.
“Ember,” I rasp, my voice little more than a croak. “What do you want with me?”
She laughs, the sound harsh and grating. “To think I almost killed you when you’re the key to everything my father has sought for years.”
Ember loves to talk. I’m going to use it to my advantage. I am not going to let history repeat itself today.
“Bringing back Nickolas’s brother won’t solve your father’s problems,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady even as I twist my hands in their bonds, desperate for any give, any weakness I can exploit. I found out from Ava that’s what Nickolas fears Lord Easterlin will use my gifts for.
Ember’s smile only widens a glint of malice in her eyes. “You’re even stupider than I thought,” she sneers. “Do you really believe he needs your blood to revive that worthless whelp?”
I can feel my eyebrows climbing towards my hairline, a silent demand for an explanation. Ember just shakes her head, her expression one of mock pity.
“I can see the king truly has no idea,” she says, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “That’s perfect. It’s going to make things so much sweeter when he finds out.” She takes a step back, her gaze never leaving mine. “Begin.”
Before I can even begin to process her words, a hooded figure emerges from the shadows – an Earth witch, if the earthy smell coming off her is any indication. With a casual flick of her wrist, the ground beneath my dangling feet splits open, the stone parting like a grotesque maw to reveal a hidden chamber below.
I feel the air leave my lungs in a shocked gasp as I take in the scene – a cage, massive and reinforced, filled with writhing bodies packed in so tightly they seem to bleed into one another. Lycans, their eyes wild and feral. But not just lycans… new bloods, dozens of them, that turns my blood to ice in my veins. Lycans are blessed with the ability to turn humans to Lycans.
Why? What sick game is Ember and her father playing? I don’t have time to wonder what twisted game Ember and her father are playing. Because in the next instant, I’m screaming, my voice raw and ragged as agony rips through me, my skin splitting open by a handless metal blade.
Blood pours from the wounds, painting my arms, my legs, my face in crimson. I can feel it dripping down my body in warm rivulets.
“Fuck!” I scream, my voice cracking with the force of my pain. The silver in my system is probably preventing me from healing.
Ember laughs, her eyes alight with sadistic glee as she watches me writhe and thrash in my bonds. “But we’ve only just begun,” she taunts, her voice sickly sweet.
“Heavens above!” I whimper, my head lolling back against my shoulders. “You’re killing me.”
Ember just shakes her head, her smile never wavering. “Oh, my dear Amelia,” she purrs, “that’s rather the point.”
I can feel my strength ebbing with each passing second, my vision starting to blur at the edges as the blood loss takes its toll. This is worse than Lord Easterlin taking blood from me. This is a nightmare.
It feels like an eternity before she finally relents, the wounds sealing shut as abruptly as they appeared, probably the work of a water witch. I sag in my bonds, my breath coming in shallow, panting gasps as I struggle to remain conscious.
The ground closes up once more, the new bloods disappearing from view, but I can still hear their frenzied snarls, the sound sending icy tendrils of fear down my spine.
“Undo the bonds,” Ember orders, and I can feel the shackles around my wrists shattering, the sudden loss of support sending me crashing to the ground in a boneless heap. The Earth and Water witches leaves us right after, disappearing into the shadows without a word.
I try to push myself up, to crawl away, but my body refuses to cooperate. Every inch of me throbs with pain, my muscles screaming in protest as I collapse back to the floor, curling in on myself like a wounded animal.
“To think you’re supposed to be a hybrid,” Ember sneers, looking down her nose at my battered form with undisguised disdain. She punctuates the insult by spitting directly in my face, the glob of saliva warm against my cheek. “Pathetic.”
I grit my teeth, glaring defiantly up at her as I wipe my face clean.
“Come closer,” I rasp, my voice little more than a gravelly whisper. “I want to tell you something.”
Ember barks out a mocking laugh. “And what could you possibly have to say to me, you worthless little bitch?”
Before I can reply, her boot is slamming into my stomach, the steel-toed kick landing with surgical precision on the area the witch sliced open. White-hot agony lances through me, stealing what little breath I had left in my lungs. I double over with a choked cry, spots dancing across my vision as I fight not to black out.
“Why don’t you come closer and find out?” I force out through gritted teeth, spitting a mouthful of blood at her feet in defiance.
Ember hesitates, suspicion warring with curiosity in her gaze. But in the end, her arrogance wins out, and she crouches down beside me, her face mere inches from mine. In that moment, I strike.
Calling on every last reserve of energy, I unmask my scent, releasing the pheromones that have kept my true nature hidden all this time. Ember’s eyes widen in shock and fear as my claws extend, ripping through the tender flesh of her face. I aim for her eyes before she can react. She screams, an unholy shriek of rage and pain, as she claws futilely at me, but misses, currently momentarily blind. I stagger upright and make a break for the door.
“Come back here, you bitch!” Ember howls from somewhere behind me, her voice a mixture of fury and disbelief.
I don’t look back, don’t hesitate as I barrel down the dimly lit corridor, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone with each pounding stride. Up ahead, two hulking guards appear, their faces twisted into matching snarls as they move to intercept me.
Putting on an extra burst of speed, I duck beneath the first guard’s wild haymaker, my claws punching through his sternum and past the fragile cage of bone to clamp around his thrashing heart. With a vicious heave, I rip the organ free, letting his lifeless body crumple to the floor in a rapidly spreading pool of gore.
His partner doesn’t even have time to react before I’m on him, a blur of motion and flashing talons. My claws find his throat, slicing through muscle and tendon with surgical precision until the only thing holding his head on is a thin ribbon of flesh. A final, savage twist separates it completely, and he joins his comrade in death, their blood mingling on the stones.
Not sparing them a second glance, I turn and run, following the winding passage towards what I can only hope is an exit to the outside world. Ember’s furious cries echo all around me, seeming to come from every shadow, every darkened alcove. But I don’t slow down; I can’t afford to with my life hanging by a thread.
My lungs are burning, each ragged gasp feeling like I’m breathing in shards of broken glass. I can feel the blood seeping from the wound in my stomach, the coppery tang of it filling my nostrils as I run, my hand pressed tight against the torn flesh in a futile attempt to stem the flow. But I push on, driven by a primal need to escape this nightmare, to put as much distance between myself and my tormentors as possible.
Up ahead, I can see a sliver of pale light filtering in from somewhere, the first hint that I may be nearing the surface. Redoubling my efforts, I pour on what little speed I can muster, the shadows seeming to reach out and grasp at me with spectral claws as I finally burst through a heavy wooden door and into the blessed light of day.
I don’t stop running, not even when the rough-hewn tunnel gives way to a dense forest, the ground sloping sharply beneath my feet. I simply let gravity take over, half-stumbling, half-falling down the incline as branches whip at my face and exposed skin.
I have no idea where I’m going, no plan beyond the desperate need to put as much distance between myself and my captors as possible. But even as I run, my heart rabbiting against my ribs, I can feel a flicker of hope kindling in my chest.
I escaped, and I’ll be damned if I let Ember and her father get me back. So I grit my teeth against the pain, against the fear, and I keep running, my eyes fixed on the darkness ahead, praying that somehow, someway, I’ll find my way back to Nickolas.