Chapter 2 #3
There’s no time to process this particular string of words. She shoves my spine with more bite this time, and I stumble through the gate. The urge to turn and look back at the house that gave me purpose claws at me, but I force myself to keep walking.
Each step is sluggish and reluctant as we follow the slim trail winding alongside the river’s cut bank.
The water flows about six feet below, the depth higher this time of year because of the snow starting to fall this far north.
My heart pounds against my sternum like a drum and I don’t notice I’ve stopped breathing until my vision wavers slightly, my chest on fire.
She said there’s a getaway car waiting.
My wolf lashes out, frenzied and wild, racking her claws against the inside of my ribs as if she can tear her way free.
She understands what I do. Knows what we’re walking toward.
If I step into that vehicle, I might never make it back here.
I’ll lose this place and the people within it—my friends. I’ll lose…him.
I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of my cheek until I taste copper to keep from screaming his name.
Aloud this time. I shouldn’t be thinking about Rennick.
Not now. Not when I’m walking a baby toward a trap with no way out.
I need to think clearly. But the ache’s already seeping in, coiling around me like thorned vines.
My soul reaches for Rennick like it still believes he’ll come. Like it still believes I’m his to save.
He promised you just this morning he wasn’t giving you up, that he was going to fight for you, the irrational voice, the one still blindly clinging to hope, reminds me against my better judgement.
The toe of my shoe catches on an exposed tree root and I stumble forward.
Malvina snorts with amusement behind me. “And here I thought wolves were supposed to be agile.”
“I’ve never been much of a wolf,” I mutter. “Or a witch. Guess I’m not much of a crossborn either.”
“A shame,” she says, distracted now, her irritation evident in her tone.
From the sound of it, Ivey is beginning to squirm harder in her arms, fussing with more volume now.
Both unmistakable warning signs that a full-blown meltdown is imminent.
This witch doesn’t recognize them for what they are.
“About the magic part, anyway. Even if your mother was a crossborn, power like Thalassa’s is rare.
It’s nearly unheard of for it not to be passed down in some compacity. ”
I could correct her and tell her that I do have power.
It’s new, finicky, and unreliable, but a gift nonetheless.
One that’s been acting up more and more since my reunion with Rennick.
But giving this bitch more ammunition to use against me or use to up my “price tag” seems unwise, so I lock my jaw and focus on something else—the familiarity in which Malvina says Mom’s name.
I glance back, my attention split between the witch and the increasingly agitated five-month-old in her arms. “Did you know my mother?”
“You really didn’t know your mother at all, did you, dear?” It’s a rhetorical question, one that leaves me glaring at her. “Enough chitchat. Keep moving.”
We make it no more than ten feet before Ivey’s emotional clock runs out. Her wail slices through the trees. Somewhere to our left, a bird flutters out from a fern, startled by the sound. I stop in my tracks and spin toward them, ignoring the order to keep moving.
While Ivey’s tolerance has dwindled into nothing, so has the witch’s.
Malvina’s irritation, which has been simmering ever since the baby started fussing, sharpens into something darker. Her features tighten as the blade lifts once more, angled threateningly toward the Ivey’s throat.
Everything within me lurches at the sight.
“Give her to me,” I demand before she can act on the desires so evident on her face.
She sneers, “Nice try.”
“She’s going to keep screaming,” I tell her flatly, pushing all urgency from my tone.
Call it intuition, but something tells me letting her see my panic would be a mistake, that it’d only thrill her.
And if she thinks I’m scared, she might turn it into sport.
“Ivey knows me. I was there the moment she took her first breath. You? You’re the stranger who snatched her out of her crib.
She doesn’t know what’s happening, or where her mother is.
She’s fucking terrified. She’s not going to calm down.
The screams will get louder and then the Craddock Pack will hear her.
They will hear her, and they will come for her.
For us. Then what are you going to do? I don’t know what your gift is, but is it strong enough to take on a wolf? ”
“I killed the female Alpha,” she bites back.
Anguish and rage war within me, the combination like flames lashing me from the inside.
“You wouldn’t have stood a chance against Lowri if your sister hadn’t been there to compel her into submission.
That blood might be on your blade, but it wasn’t your kill,” I snap at her, emotion getting the better of me.
Her lips twist, a retort ready, but I cut her off.
“The chances of her calming completely are slim to none, but they’re better if she’s with me,” I say over Ivey’s cries. “The longer you hold her, the more attention you’re going to draw.”
Her gaze dips to the river at our right. “I could just toss her in. That’d shut her up.”
My wolf shoves forward, a vicious snarl tearing from me.
It scorches my throat on the way out and it takes considerable effort to keep the shock from my face.
I’ve lived so long with her caged and silenced, buried beneath the weaves my mom forced upon me.
Now, she’s starting to claw through the fissures Rennick’s presence has created in the spell.
Malvina’s dark brows lift. “Look who’s got some wolf in her, after all.”
“Hurt that child and I will kill you,” I threaten, every syllable nothing but stone-cold truth.
Violence has never been in my nature, but for the people I love I’ll become whatever I need to be.
Humor has the corner of her mouth twitching.
I shut it down. Fast. “You think I’m joking?
You can turn that blade of yours on me. Slice me open just like you did Lowri.
But I swear on everything I have left in this world, I won’t let you walk away after.
I’ll die biting down on your fucking windpipe if I have to. ”
She stares at me, calculating.
“Give me the fucking baby,” I snap, jaw tight, the bubbling outrage I’ve been swallowing down since I slipped in the puddle of blood reaching a fever pitch. My outburst relieves some of the pressure, but not enough. No, there’s more boiling beneath the surface. Just waiting.
Malvina lasts all of ten more seconds before she reaches her limit.
With a grunt of irritation and a muttered curse, she stomps forward and shoves the screaming baby against my chest. The force isn’t violent, but it’s far from careful.
I stumble back a half step, instinctively pulling Ivey’s furious frame close.
Her cries keep coming, but the feel of her—of her weight in my arms, the scent of that familiar organic oatmeal and honey soap Seren insists on using—roots me for a moment. A quiet point of clarity in the chaos.
Malvina gestures sharply with her claw-like blade, her glare making it clear whatever grace I was just given has expired. “Move.”
I obey.
I adjust Ivey in my arms, whispering to her as I walk. Just quiet, soothing sounds. Reassuring words and promises I’m not sure I can keep. Her cries taper, but she isn’t soothed. Not really. That won’t happen until she’s back in the safety of her mother’s embrace.
I keep my focus forward, locked on the narrow trail.
But inside everything is unraveling. Ivey’s fussing coils tighter in my chest, my pulse refuses to settle, and the grief gnaws at me like it’s trying to carve out a place to call home.
My thoughts flicker and fracture. My wolf is edging close to feral.
Her panic bleeding into mine until it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
Every pace toward the river’s crossing and the car waiting beyond it is a countdown.
The more ground we cover, the less time I have to figure a way out of this. A way to save us.
At the very least, a way of getting Ivey out.
That’s my priority right now.
Ivey.
Somewhere along the path, the world begins to slip sideways.
I can’t hear the river anymore. I can’t hear the baby or the trees or even my own breath. The rhythmic pounding of my wolf slamming herself against the invisible walls replaces the erratic thumping of my heartbeat.
The hum starts low in my eardrums, barely a whimper, but with each step it grows.
It winds behind my eyes and pushes into my skull until there’s no space left for thought.
It’s almost like the day Siggy’s inner voice seeped into my head for the first time, only it’s sharper. High-pitched and relentless.
The ground is unstable beneath me, as if it’s pulling away. My sight goes soft around the edges. I move on instinct alone, like my body’s still here but my mind is already slipping somewhere else.
The whine reaches a punishing frequency and just as I’m sure my knees will buckle from the brutality of it, something yields. Deep inside of me, a knot begins to unravel. Not all the way, but enough for something to draw breath again. Enough to sense the first stirrings of a power long dormant.
My eyes flutter shut for only a second and when they snap open, I see them.
The world around me is laced with threads—woven strings of magic, energy, and life strung through the air like spider silk. Made of different pale shades, some simmer like sunlight reflecting off water and radiate warmth. Others, oily black and foul, are gnarled and coiled too tight.