Chapter Twenty-Six
Bridget Winslow
Shattered Peace
The binding spell slams into place before I’m fully awake, sealing my lips with a familiar punishment spell. My eyes snap open to darkness, heart hammering against my ribs. Delta Team.
Terror claws up my throat, threatening to choke me. They shouldn’t be here yet. We should’ve had more time. I’m not ready. We’re not ready. Oh God, Brianna.
Bast sleeps beside me, his arm heavy across my waist, completely unaware of the two shadows looming over the bed.
His chest rises and falls in the slow rhythm of deep sleep.
I feel his contentment, his trust in the safety of his home through me like it’s my own.
The same trust that made me let my guard down.
The same trust that’s going to get him killed.
Tears burn behind my eyes. I should have known better. Should have set wards. Traps. Anything. But I got distracted. Let myself believe in happy endings like some foolish child. Just like Brianna did.
“Hello, little miss.” I recognize the voice instantly, and my blood turns to ice. Mira. Leader of Delta Team. Executioner of the Salem Court’s will. Her whisper carries across the room, soft as a snake in grass. “One wrong move and the man dies. Nod if you understand.”
My fingers clench in the sheets as I give a sharp nod, bile rising in my throat. The memory of the last time I saw Mira work floods my mind—a witch who broke the rules, screaming as Mira slowly, methodically broke her.
I carefully keep my emotions neutral, desperate not to wake Bast. If he wakes, if he tries to fight them… Delta Team doesn’t leave witnesses. And they don’t know he’s a wolf. They just think he’s a man.
This situation would be infinitely worse if they knew what he is.
The Mathairs would lose their minds if they knew there were wolves all through these mountains.
They’d torture him for information first, then make me watch as they—no.
I can’t think about that. Can’t let those thoughts leak through our bond.
“Good girl.” Mira’s smile gleams in the darkness, the same smile she wore when she executed that rogue witch in front of us during training. “Now, very carefully, slide out of bed. Hands where I can see them.”
Another figure moves closer. She’s short, stocky and brutal—Nia. I know what she’s capable of. I’ve seen her stop a person’s heart with a single word, watched them collapse mid-stride, eyes still open in surprise. One spell from her and Bast would never wake up.
I ease away from him, mourning the loss of his warmth. His arm slides off my waist as I move, and he shifts slightly. My heart nearly stops, but he just burrows deeper into the pillow. Relief makes me dizzy.
Just a little longer. Just stay asleep a little longer.
“That’s it,” Mira coos, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Nice and slow.”
The floor is cold against my bare feet as I stand. Leftover splinters from the broken door scrape my soles. Each tiny pain feels like a goodbye. This might be the last time I feel anything in this cabin. The last time I see him.
The third shadow in the room resolves into Carmen’s lithe form.
Her hands and low voice weave a complex pattern, and binding spells settle over me like heavy chains.
My arms pull behind my back of their own accord, wrists crossing in a painful position I’ve been forced into before.
That’s Carmen’s specialty—pain. She likes to hurt people.
The Mathairs don’t want me dead. I failed them. I killed Elsa and they want to make an example of me.
Bast shifts slightly, making the mattress creak. My heart races. Please stay asleep. Please. I can’t bear to watch them hurt him. Can’t bear to lose him. I couldn’t survive watching them break him.
“The Mathairs are very disappointed in you, Bridget.” Nia’s breath is hot against my ear as she grabs my upper arm. Her fingers dig into my flesh, promising pain to come. “You were our best student.”
I let them guide me toward the door. Years of training work against me now—they know exactly how I think, how I move, what I might try. Delta Team helped teach all witches assigned to be assassins. They know all my tricks because they taught them to me.
But they don’t know everything about me. Not anymore. They don’t know about the bond. About what Bast and I have become together.
I risk one last glance at his sleeping form. His face is peaceful in the dim light, unaware that I’m being stolen away. The bond between us thrums steady and strong.
If these are my last moments of happiness, at least I had this. At least I knew what it was to be loved. I’m sorry, I think toward his sleeping form. I’m so sorry.
They march me through the cabin, past the couch where we first kissed, past the kitchen where we plotted to save my sister. And now all of that is over. The dream that I could escape my past. Save my sister. That I could have a happily ever after with Bast.
The cool night air hits my bare skin as they guide me onto the porch. I’m wearing only Bast’s T-shirt and underwear, but modesty seems absurd when facing execution. Behind me, Mira mutters a silencing spell on the cabin. Even if Bast wakes now, he won’t hear anything.
A black SUV idles in the driveway, its engine a low purr in the mountain calm. Through our bond, I feel Bast’s sleep starting to lighten. He’s sensing my fear. I try desperately to keep my emotions calm, to not alert him, but I can’t stop all my emotions.
“You really thought you could escape us? With a fucking man, no less.” Nia’s voice drips with contempt as she opens the rear door. “No one betrays the Mathairs. Didn’t you already learn that after what happened to your sister?”
I want to scream at her. Want to tell her about everything the Mathairs keep from us. About male witches and werewolves and love that doesn’t steal your magick. About choices and freedom and family that isn’t built on fear.
But the binding spell holds firm, and all I can do is glare as they shove me into the back of the SUV. Carmen climbs in beside me. Up front, Mira takes the wheel while Nia claims the passenger seat.
The vehicle creeps down the dark road, each curve taking us farther from Bast. Carmen’s hand stays clamped on my arm, her nails digging half-moons into my skin. I barely feel it. Physical pain seems distant compared to the hollow ache spreading through my chest.
“You know what they do to traitors.” Nia’s voice drifts back from the front seat. “Remember watching that witch burn last summer? The one who tried to leave the Court?” She turns in her seat, eyes glittering. “The Mathairs made it last for hours.”
I remember. They made all of us watch.
But it’s not my death I fear most. It’s what they’ll do to Brianna. What they might do to Bast if they discover what he is. To Emma and her unborn child.
“Turn here,” Carmen says, gesturing to a narrow side road. “The others should have her ready.”
My heart slams against my ribs. They split up. Of course they split up—it’s standard Delta protocol. Hit multiple targets simultaneously, minimize response time. How could I not have anticipated this?
The SUV’s headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating another vehicle pulled off to the side. Two more familiar figures stand beside it—Rhyn and Dara, the other half of Delta Team. And between them…
No.
Emma struggles against their hold, her red hair wild in the moonlight. She’s wearing a nightgown, bare feet dirty from the ground. Blood trickles from a cut on her forehead. When she sees me in the back of the SUV, her eyes go wide with recognition.
They don’t know she’s pregnant. They can’t know, or they’d be more careful with her. How did they even get to her? The pack knew she was a target…
“Load her up,” Mira commands. “We’re behind schedule.”
Rhyn and Dara drag Emma toward us. She fights them every step, but their binding spells are too strong. Just like mine. They shove her into the back seat beside me, then head over to the other SUV.
We pull back onto the main road. Five Delta witches, two captives, heading up out of the valley. Through the mountains. Back to Salem for whatever horror the Mathairs have planned.
Emma trembles beside me, and I wish desperately that I could speak. Could tell her I’m sorry. Could promise that somehow we’ll find a way out of this. But the binding spell holds firm, and all I can do is press my shoulder against hers in silent support.
The mountain pass looms ahead, a darker shadow against the night sky. Bast’s steady sleeping presence resonates in my chest, still unaware that his world is about to shatter. Part of me wants him to wake, to come charging after us like the deadly predator he is. But that would only get him killed.
Stay asleep, I plead silently. Stay safe. Live.
Tears slip down my cheeks as the first rays of dawn paint the eastern sky. Every passing minute feels like another nail in my coffin, another step toward an end I never imagined. The Mathairs don’t forgive. Don’t forget.
And they never, ever show mercy.
The sun breaks over the mountain peaks as we get farther through the pass. Emma’s stopped trembling, but her face is ghost-white in the growing light. Blood has dried on her temple, dark against her pale skin.
If the Mathairs discover what she carries… I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to finish the thought. It can’t happen. Ever.
“Two hours will put us back at the private airport,” Mira announces from the front seat. Her voice carries that same satisfied tone she used when bringing in other “traitors” to the Court. “The Mathairs will be pleased we collected both of you so quickly.”
Nia turns in her seat again. “They’ve prepared something special for you, Bridget. A proper welcome home.” She leans closer, dropping her voice to a stage whisper. “Your sister’s been asking for you. Screaming, really.”
Brianna. My beautiful, fierce sister. What have they done to her? What are they still doing to her?
My chest constricts, each breath harder than the last. They’re going to kill Brianna. Emma. Me. Make examples of us. Just like they’ve done countless times before.
The SUV rounds another curve, leaving White Fork in the distance. Through our bond, I feel the first stirring of Bast’s consciousness. No. Not yet. Please not yet. But the bond pulses stronger as he starts to wake.
Don’t follow us, I beg silently.
Confusion ripples through the bond. Bast is awake now, his hand is reaching for my empty side of the bed. Then the gut-wrenching fear crashes through him as he finds the sheets cold.
I’m sorry, I think desperately as his panic floods our connection. I’m so sorry.
But Bast’s rage is building. His desperate need to find me. To save me. The force of it steals my breath.
Please, I beg silently. Please stay safe. I can’t bear to watch them break you.
Tears slip down my cheeks as his fear and rage echo through our connection. The marks around my wrists—his marks, our promise of forever—burn with the distance growing between us.
Each mile feels like it’s tearing out another piece of my heart.