Chapter 53
Aiden
Ear pressed to Julian’s chest, I listen, tracking the steady thump of his heartbeat. It doesn’t strain or slow, even though he’s limp in my arms.
Tell me you’re okay. I whisper the words through our bond, but no matter how hard I will him to open his eyes, to answer me, he remains asleep.
When Max pushed me back to the forefront, the last thing I expected was to find my mate unconscious. More than that, it was the tears falling that weren’t my own, dripping over his already-mournful face. A softer version of that expression lingers now as I straighten and cup his cheek.
“I really hope this worked.”
“We’ll see,” Katerina mumbles, shifting her blank stare away from Julian’s prone body. “I tried to give them space, but things sounded a bit heated.”
My brows twitch closer. That’s more than Max had given me.
You really going to let a witch tell me what’s going on? I push at him, but still nothing.
He’s there, but no amount of begging gets him to speak. All I feel from Max is sorrow, settled exactly where our shared anxiety used to be.
“But he’s okay?” I press as I look up at the witch sitting across from me.
“Yes,” Katerina drawls, her eyes rolling as she toys with one of the beads in her hair. “Again—for the millionth time—he’s fine.”
When she catches me glaring at her, she tosses one right back.
“Why would I lie? If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have gone through all this just to get it done. He’s fine. It was just taxing on his body, and now he’s resting.”
If Julian had been hurt by something she’d done, I’d have felt it in my bones, if not my spirit, but there’s none of that. And the scent of magic is already fading from his skin.
“Okay,” I force out, looking behind me for the tear that brought us here.
I want to take Jewels home so he can rest, but the only house in sight pulls my focus—the squat cottage with its thatched roofing.
When we first got here, I’d been too focused on surviving to really look around. Now it’s impossible to ignore that we’re hundreds of miles away from our pack, in some desolate corner of the Earth that Katerina has carved out for herself.
The question was, if she had this little escape, what in Goddess’s name was she doing running around the unclaimed lands beyond ours? She’d promised she wasn’t drawing magic from our pack, but Julian and I never got around to asking about syphoning.
“So,” I start, returning my gaze to the peculiar witch. “What did you do to get kicked out of your coven?”
Katerina makes a face, her nose wrinkling like the idea of talking to a werewolf physically pains her. The feeling’s mutual, but I can’t leave here without at least some clue of what’s going on.
Between the rogues and now her, it feels like we’re playing chess with a limited view of what pieces are on the board.
“Why do you assume I was kicked out?” she snaps. “I could’ve left.”
“Well, did you?”
“Ha—fuck no. They kicked me out.” She breaks into her manic laugh, rocking back and forth. I roll my eyes, already too used to her brand of crazy.
“What’d you do?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she toys with her hair, twisting and untwisting the strands. She shifts and fidgets then finally drops the braid with an exaggerated sigh, folding a leg under her.
“Power makes you the strongest,” she murmurs. In her open hand, a rose just—appears. No flare, no warning, like the air decided to humour her. Its dark purple petals catch the light.
She strokes it with a small twitch of a smile, gentle in a way that doesn’t match the rest of her.
“I got powerful, so naturally … I became the strongest.” The flower hovers above her palm, spinning slow and deliberate. “Eventually, I got too powerful”—the rose stops—“and I didn’t know what to do with all that power.” The rose shakes. “I tried to lock it up so they couldn’t have it.”
Smoke rises from the centre of each petal before they begin burning off, one by one. “Then one day, it got out.”
The flower torches down to its stem, flaring red—beautiful—before it turns to ash and withers to the ground. The wind takes the remnants, scattering them, and Katerina tucks her hand back into her pocket.
Silence looms between us, awkward. She stares at the ground with empty eyes. She doesn’t move much, but around her, the world is saying what she tries to keep bottled up.
Clouds brew overhead, swallowing the sun, and the winds pick up. Even without knowing her, I can scent the sudden bitterness in the air as sadness.
I shift uncomfortably, instincts telling me to get Jewels and get the fuck out of here before she detonates, but there’s also the urge—quiet but still there—to help.
It’s strange, because I only feel that urge for the wolves in my pack. But looking at the pitiful mess of a witch in front of me, it nudges me to do something about this.
“Well …” I start slowly, “that doesn’t really answer my question. You wanna try again?”
Her eyes jump up to me, wide a second before a chuckle sputters out of her. My lips twitch, against my better judgement.
“Forget that question,” I mutter. “You clearly can’t answer it.”
That gets me another laugh, and just like that, the brewing clouds scatter.
“If you got too strong,” I press, “how do you control all your magic now?”
“I don’t,” she says, straightening suddenly with a devilish smirk. “I let it out. But I’m a bit low in the energy department at the moment, so I’m just filling the tank back up before I go back to wipe out my lovely coven.”
There were a few alarming things about that statement.
First of all—“You’re going to kill your entire coven?”
“Scary, right?” she replies, eyes gleaming.
Second of all—“This is you on a low tank?”
She nods, delighted, freeing another manic cackle. “Imagine what I’m like at full power.”
I’d rather not. And probably couldn’t if I wanted to. If the average witch was this strong, we’d all be dead—or at least briefed about it.
The fact that Katerina was this powerful and no one thought to mention it means she’s either very good at hiding, or she’d been kept a secret so that no one would know. Maybe her coven was responsible for that. Maybe she wants revenge.
Whatever the story was, I don’t care as long as it stays far, far away from our pack. As it was, we’d gambled with her long enough. The others were probably freaking out, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near Katerina if her coven found her before she found them.
“Well …” I announce, standing and adjusting with Julian in my arms. I tuck him close before fixing my gaze on the strange witch. “I assume you’ll show up when you want to cash in that favour.”
Katerina nods briskly and flicks a hand towards the air beside us. The tear reopens with a soft hiss. “And if you need my services again, just say Kat.”
I snort. Fat chance of that, but—“We’re on a nickname basis now?”
She glowers as she stands, brushes the dirt off her pants. “Hardly. I hate the name.”
“Then why—”
“My name is Katerina, not Kat,” she snaps. “I’m not a fucking pussy. But if you call me that, it’ll work.”
Not touching the crazy stacked in that one. I shrug and turn towards the tear.
At its edge, I glance back. The witch is already sauntering away towards her distant home.
“Hey, Kat!” I call.
She spins, purple eyes blazing with rage.
“I just wanted to say thanks. From the both of us.”
She falters, blinking at me like I’ve spawned a second head. “Oh,” she mumbles, “uh … you’re welcome, mutt.”
Snarling, I leave Kat to overthink the concept of gratitude.
I step through the tear and I’m happy to find solid, familiar-ish ground beneath my feet instead of a cliff drop. I take a deep breath, savouring air that isn’t tainted with magic or witch stink.
“Aiden!” Emitt shouts, already at our side with enough relief to saturate the entire pack bond. “Thank Goddess! Where did she take you?”
“What happened?” Beckett demands, scanning Julian’s unconscious face. “Is he okay?”
“He will be,” I promise, meeting his gaze. “He’s resting. She got Alex to come out, but it took a toll.”
“So, she really helped you?” Isabel asks, her disbelief as clear as mine.
“She’s a little crazy, but yeah,” I admit, still kind of surprised myself. We went to a witch for help, and she actually came through. “She wasn’t so bad.”
“Yeah, the witch with the flaming scythes isn’t so bad,” Emitt deadpans, forcing a laugh out of me.
“Let’s head back,” I say, nodding towards the path. “We’ve been out here long enough. I want him to wake up at home.”
In full agreement, the others fall back into their former positions. Isabel takes the lead, and Emitt hangs back, letting Beckett fall in step with me. We’re just as careful going as we were coming. Maybe that’s why, in the silence, something else clicks.
“I’m just filling the tank.”
“I’m not drawing from your pack or anything. You’d feel it if I were, right?”
Yeah. We’d feel it. But that doesn’t change the fact that Katerina is syphoning magic from somewhere. But if it’s not us, then who the hell is she drawing her power from?
There aren’t any packs out here. No other covens. No other supernatural or human groupings either. Just rogues—and they’ve been multiplying like rats. Every time we take one group down, two more crawl out of the dirt.
There are more of them now than I’ve ever seen. And we’re not the only ones noticing.
I glance back at where Katerina’s tear used to be. Nothing. Just trees, wind, and the hum of something off.
Swiping a hand over my forehead, I clear the sweat there before scanning the room.
The place looks almost as good as it had been when we first moved in—a huge step up from the wreck I walked into with Julian half-dead on my shoulder.
Our fractured bedroom door was as much of a shock as the state of our bed. It had been covered with all of my clothes, scattered in a circle like he’d tried to build himself a den.