Chapter 48
Lochlan
“PRINCE THANE ABSENT FROM PINNACLE MEETING—WHAT’S THE REAL STORY?” —THE DOVER CENTENNIAL
A single light glowed in the warehouse looming ahead, the building’s edges barely visible in the darkness. Inside, Lochlan knew there were thousands of chickens—and somewhere among them, Nia.
His chest tightened, the urge to charge in almost unbearable.
In the cow farm behind him, Wulfric, Ivy, and Becket were under close watch by Videt guards and two of Thane’s trusted men. Wulfric had fought to join the mission; in the end, Lochlan and Thane had won that argument.
Now, Lochlan was crouched behind a wire fence, hidden among the tall grass, waiting. For what? He didn’t know. Every second felt like a year. He just wanted to see Nia, to know for certain she was still there, whether she was hurt, if—
“There’s movement.” Thane’s voice crackled through the earpiece Lochlan wore, his whisper deafening in the stillness.
Lochlan’s gaze darted to Thane, who was focused on his tablet.
The infrared scan glowed faintly, showing a small blob weaving through the field toward them.
The clicks of weapons being armed echoed through the night.
Lochlan’s pulse quickened, his hand instinctively tightening on the hilt of the knife Thane had given him.
The Videt guards around him murmured quietly, their voices tense. “Could be a spell,” one of them whispered.
“Wait!” Lochlan whispered, his eyes locked on the screen. He watched the blob carefully, his heart racing. “Jade?”
The heat signature on the tablet moved with more urgency. Lochlan’s breath caught as a white shape burst through the tall grass ahead. Jade cleared the fence in a single bound, landing in Lochlan’s arms.
“Jade!” The dog whined and licked his face, her whole body vibrating with anxiety. His hands moved quickly across her fur, feeling for anything out of place, afraid of what he might find. But there was nothing. No injuries, no blood—she was unharmed and whole.
Relief washed over him.
“Jade has been found,” Thane whispered through the comms, his voice steady and clear. “Prepare for extraction.”
Two of Thane’s men moved forward with swift, practiced motions. They cut through the wire fence, the faint metallic snip barely audible over the pounding of Lochlan’s heart. The group slipped through two by two, crouching low to keep their movements concealed.
On the far side, Echo and Jade took the lead, their noses working furiously as they sniffed at the air and ground. The two dogs seemed to communicate with each other in some unspoken way, pausing in unison as their bodies dropped low, their focus fixed on a large door ahead.
Thane gave a hand signal. The team fell into position, two men on each side of the door. In precise coordination, they wrenched it open with a piercing, metallic groan.
Chaos erupted.
A flood of chickens burst through the opening, wings flapping wildly as they scattered in every direction, their startled squawks mingling with those of the Videt guards.
One stumbled back, yelping like a child as a particularly angry hen flew at his face.
“Get it off!” he shouted, swatting helplessly.
The others recovered quickly, forming magical shields to deflect the onslaught of birds.
But the dogs had already darted through the rush of feathers, slipping into the warehouse.
“Go!” Thane barked, cutting through the noise.
The team surged forward, Lochlan right behind them.
Inside the warehouse was a chaotic swirl of motion and sound, shadows flickering against the walls as the team burst through the door.
At first it was impossible to make out anything.
Lochlan’s eyes scanned the space, his heart lurching as he searched for the glow of red hair and—
Nia.
She was tied to a pole in the center of the space, her hands bound behind her back.
Relief slammed into Lochlan so hard it nearly knocked the breath from his chest. She was alive. But rage at the fact she was tied up, that she had been captured and might be hurt, followed close behind that relief. His whole body tensed, the magic within him rising, begging for release.
A man Lochlan recognized from the bonfire—Jackson—stood off to one side with Raymond, their expressions twisted with fear and uncertainty. A third man, the one who’d threatened Nia in her office and whom they’d seen on the street, raised his arms.
A stream of fiery magic hurtled toward Nia and the shadows she was clearly trying to conjure.
But something was wrong. Instead of the bold, beautiful magic Lochlan had come to know and admire, Nia’s shadows looked faint and frail, nothing like the ones she’d used to easily fend off and restrain this man before.
They wouldn’t be enough to stop him or his flames this time.
Lochlan didn’t think—he moved.
His hand shot to his spell kit, fingers closing around a small opal vial. The mixture inside—moonlace root, distilled and potent—gleamed like frozen starlight.
He smashed the vial in his palm.
The crushed glass bit into his skin, mixing the powerful extract with his blood.
Cold bloomed instantly along his fingers, an eerie chill shooting through his veins.
His bloodied fingertips carved a rune in the air, like writing in untouched snow, and the moment the final stroke connected, the air crackled with energy.
Frost raced outward as the glowing rune solidified into jagged ice.
A wall of shimmering, blue-white ice erupted between Nia and the fire, the flames crashing into it with a violent hiss. Steam billowed. The icy barrier groaned but held, its surface spiderwebbing with frost, reinforcing itself against the heat.
The enormous man snarled in fury and frustration.
“Cover me!” Thane’s voice roared through the cavernous space as he charged the man head-on.
There was no hesitation, no finesse, just brute strength and sheer determination as Thane collided with him, slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest. They fought, fast and brutal—no weapons, no magic, just fists and feet.
Gregor’s sheer size gave him an advantage, but Thane’s speed and ferocity more than made up for it.
In a matter of seconds, he had the bastard hog-tied.
Echo and Jade circled Jackson and Raymond like wolves closing in on prey, their teeth bared. Jackson had gone pale, while Raymond looked seconds away from bolting.
Lochlan barely noticed, his focus solely on Nia.
He dropped to his knees beside her, his knife cutting through the ropes binding her, careful and swift.
The moment she was free, Nia collapsed into him, her arms wrapping tight around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder.
They sank to the ground together, Lochlan holding her so tightly it almost hurt.
His grip was desperate, terrified—he was afraid if he let go, she might vanish.
His hands moved over her on instinct, brushing her hair back, checking her neck, his thumbs grazing the raw red marks on her wrists where the ropes had been.
“Are you hurt?” His voice was rough, breathless. “Nia, talk to me. Are you hurt?”
She cupped his face, her fingers cold but steady against his skin. “Loch,” she whispered.
He scanned her face for any sign of pain. “Tell me what to do,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. “And I’ll make it right. Just tell me what you need.”
Nia answered by kissing him, quick and firm, soothing the storm that raged in his chest.
“I need you,” she whispered against his lips. Her arms slid around his neck, pulling him into a fierce embrace. “At first, I was terrified. Then I woke up and…” She let out a short, incredulous breath, almost a laugh. “And I saw who it was, and I just—”
Her words broke off as she shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
Lochlan blinked down at her, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You what?”
“Laughed,” she admitted, her smile widening. “It’s ridiculous. Chickens everywhere. Jackson, Gregor, and that little coward Raymond from the bar? Really? I mean, who gets kidnapped by a poultry CEO and his minions?”
“You, apparently.” A reluctant chuckle escaped Lochlan as his forehead touched hers.
Nia’s eyes met his. “The whole time, I kept thinking about us. About how we left things.” Her expression faltered, a flicker of regret passing over her features. “I hate how we left things.”
Lochlan’s breath caught, and he opened his mouth to respond, but just then a fresh wave of chickens burst through the space, squawking and flapping as they scattered in every direction as someone shouted from the door.
Lochlan stood, leaving Nia on the ground putting his body between her and the door.
Wulfric stormed in, his gaze sweeping over the scene: the bound men, the feathery chaos, Lochlan, and finally, on the floor behind him—
“Nia.” Wulfric’s tone was cold and cutting as he stepped over a squawking hen. “This marriage is over. I will grant your annulment.”