Chapter 3
THREE
KAEL
Raw emotions surge through my veins, fighting inside me on a path to disaster that I refuse to succumb to.
I want to chase after them, tell Ocean to go fuck herself with her unnecessary sass, and shake Elodie until she realizes how impetuous she is, but I’m rattled by the grunted words that fucker muttered before he sped out of here.
What did she call him? Walker? Fuck him, and fuck his words.
Power is forged in ruin.
My jaw tightens unbearably as those five little words flicker through my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.
I’ve heard those words before, sadly, in that exact same order, with the same fierceness behind them.
My gut twists. It can only mean one thing, but I squander my grave conclusions and chalk it up to a coincidence.
The door to the institute slams shut in the wake of the impossible women who continue to cause issues in my life.
I want to be mad about that fact, too, but the way it yanks me from my dwindling thoughts works in their favor.
Wiping a hand down my face, I sigh, hoping to shake some of the tension coiled tight inside of me, but I fail miserably.
“Are we supposed to just let her disappear like that?” I grumble, my frustration quickly reigniting.
Rion clears his throat, but I don’t bother to turn to him. Not when the knowing sigh that parts his lips does nothing but irk me. “She looks like she’s been through enough,” he states, and I scoff, lightly shaking my head at the fact that I knew he was going to piss me off and side with her.
“She hasn’t seen anything yet.”
Thorne cocks a brow at me as he takes a single step forward to lock eyes with Rion and me before pointing to the side of the building. “Downstairs?”
Another predicament to layer on top of everything else I’m dealing with.
Today has been a fucking day. I’m over it. I’m not interested in dealing with stuff that doesn’t directly impact me, but despite my internal resistance, I follow after the shadow fae without a word.
I’m doomed.
The three of us round the building, the thumping of our boots on the dry, hard ground beneath us the only sound, accompanied by the glow of the moon.
Every breath I take feels more ominous than the one before it.
The heavy metal door creaks as Rion opens it, and the dark stairway leading down entices us.
When the door clangs shut behind us and darkness fills my senses, Rion clears his throat.
“It looked like she was dealing with a lot more than the aftermath of poisoning herself.”
I sigh. Now we’re making excuses for her. Great.
“She ran, Rion,” I bite, irritated. “Fuck knows whose blood is on her hands now,” I add, the crimson stains mottled across Elodie’s skin flooding my vision.
“No more than any of ours,” Thorne mutters from behind me, and I shake my head, knowing he can see my dismay despite the darkness.
“Do you think The Sanctum knows?” Rion asks, continuing to lead the way, and I scoff.
“Of course they fucking know.”
That’s obvious and we all know it. You can’t do anything in The Vale without The Sanctum knowing about it.
Making a whole-ass run for it is another level and definitely means she has their attention, even more than she did before.
Her unique abilities may have captured The Sanctum’s attention, but her reckless behavior is what will put her even further under their microscope.
Elodie fucking Blackwood.
She’s reckless, unreliable, and a complete liability. I should have considered all of that from the first moment I met her. Instead, I allowed my life to be tied to hers. She can’t fuck up like this again. That’s if The Sanctum doesn’t have both of our heads for this already.
The drag of another door grinding against the floor floods my ears, confirming we’ve reached our destination, and once again, I’m snapped from my chaotic thoughts.
“We’ve got bigger problems to be dealing with first,” I mutter as we filter into the dark and dingy space.
I sense Rion and Thorne head toward the center of the room, leaving me with the pleasure of reaching for the switch. Light dances over the room, revealing the dusty cobwebs gathered in the corners as the lightbulb swings in the middle.
Chains lay scattered in the far left corner, thick and rusty, with a single line trailing to the wooden chair holding the spotlight, where the man of the hour fills our vision.
His head is hung low, his chin propped against his chest. To the untrained eye, you’d be right to assume he’s dead, but I hear the slightest flicker of his useless heart keeping him alive.
Warren Blackwood.
Another inconvenience in my life, yet I’m drawn to the drama of it like a moth to a flame.
No.
That’s too cliché.
Like an addict drawn to their next vice.
Wiping a hand down my face, I feel the corner of my mouth curl up in a sneer as I stare at the fucker taking up far too much space in my mind right now.
We went for him because Rion insisted, and since we firmly placed a wedge between him and Laurie, the professor from Hell, I felt inclined to help because he needed to get the fuck away from that woman by any means.
Taking Warren was easy—he was passed out drunk, propped against the trailer door, every inch of the deadbeat his loose white tank stereotypes him as—getting the green light to leave The Vale, however, was not.
I need to up my intel on Elodie, which would mean being around her more.
Something I agreed to before I realized she had made a run for it.
I was still jacked up on the high of fucking her the other night, helmets firmly in place and the dirt beneath us.
Now, I don’t see us spending any time together at all.
Not without it turning into even more of a disaster.
I’ve already made a deal with The Sanctum, though, so I need to figure it out.
Fuck.
Tilting my head, I refocus my gaze and acknowledge his full presence before me. He’s more than just a deadbeat called Warren Blackwood; he’s her father.
A grunt vibrates in my throat. “You realize she was running toward the very person we took,” I bite, glancing at Rion, who shakes his head, his jaw ticking with barely contained frustration.
“She was running because she was mad. She ran toward what was familiar, but she was never specifically running back to him.” The snarl is real, the invisible chain containing his emotions clanging as it falls, unraveling him from his own binds.
“Care to explain why?” Thorne interjects, and I raise my eyebrows expectantly, just as eager to understand why the hell we’re doing any of this. Yet the pointed look he gives right back to me doesn’t bode well.
“The fact that you’ve been dick deep inside of her and don’t know the answer to that is concerning,” he grunts, the flare to his nostrils reasserting his disappointment, making me frown.
“What’s that supposed to mean? And who says I have?” My poor attempt at innocence is met with a deeper pointed look from the wolf in question. Even Thorne cocks a brow at me, and I don’t have the strength to argue with them.
Thankfully, the captive chooses that exact moment to stir, snapping all our gazes to him as he groans, rolling his head back feebly while working his jaw.
Did I punch a passed out drunk man for the sake of it?
Maybe.
Do I feel bad about it?
That would insinuate I have a soul.
Rion is the first to move, crouching in front of our poor, pathetic victim. The anger vibrating from our wolf is palpable, and I turn to Thorne to see if he notices it too, only to find him already peering my way, his brows gathered with concern.
“What are we doing with him?” Thorne asks, unfazed by the fact that the man in question is more alert and he’s talking about him like he isn’t even here.
Rion’s gaze whips to the two of us as a sinister smile curls the corners of his mouth. With a wink, he jolts to his feet, turning back to Warren before yanking at the man’s hair and tugging his head back. His gruff approach earns a grunt from the chained man as his voice drops ten whole octaves.
“We’re going to make him pay.”
“Care to explain what is actually going on first?” I ask, but he’s already checked out, rearing his arm back before slamming his fist into Warren’s face.
A garbled sound comes from the fucker as blood trickles from his nose. “Tell Tommy I haven’t got his money yet,” he splutters through clenched teeth, his eyes remaining closed, and Rion snickers.
“I don’t want your fucking money,” he snarls, and the man smiles.
“You want my daughter, huh?” He shakes his head, his grin growing wider as my spine stiffens. “Many have tried, none have succeeded. I’d offer you the chase, but she disappeared, so I can’t give you a head start.”
Did he just…?
No…
Yeah…
My hands coil into fists at my sides as I blink at the delirious motherfucker before us, but it’s the menacing stare from Rion that captures my attention a second before he cocks his arm back and punches him again.
He doesn’t stop this time. The sound of flesh on flesh echoes around the room, mingling with Warren’s grunts and pleas as they swirl for an eternity.
I don’t move. Neither does Thorne.
Rion clearly knows more than we do, but even from that one statement, I know enough to be confident that this fucker deserves it.
It only takes three hits before Warren falls silent and Thorne takes a step forward. “Rion.” Our friend doesn’t hear him, landing another two shots before Thorne’s voice wraps around us again. “Do you want him to suffer such little pain?”
Rion freezes, bloody knuckles braced for impact again, but this time, he doesn’t land the blow. Instead, he grunts, taking a step back as his chest heaves with every breath. With a slight wave of his hand, Thorne strides toward them, knowing exactly what is wanted from him.