Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Selene
I’m floating in the dark.
There’s nothing here. No sound. No light. No sensation of up or down. Just endless, suffocating blackness.
I try to move. Can’t. Try to speak. Can’t. Try to feel my wolf. Nothing.
Where am I?
The question echoes in my mind, unanswered.
I’m not awake; I know that much. But I’m not asleep, either. This is something else. Something in between. Like being suspended in deep water, with pressure pushing in from all sides, crushing me.
Time doesn’t exist here. I could be floating for seconds or hours or days. There’s no way to tell. No way to measure the passing of moments when there are no moments at all.
Just this. Just darkness.
Then—movement. Not mine. Something pulling at me, tugging me forward through the void like a fish on a line.
No. Stop. Let me go.
But there’s no one to hear my thoughts. No one to listen. I’m screaming into nothing, and nothing screams back.
The darkness shifts. Changes. The absolute black becomes something less solid, less complete. Like ink dissolving in water.
My eyes open.
I’m staring up at faces. Daciana’s dark braid falls over her shoulder, her brow furrowed with concern.
Astra stands beside her, one hand pressed protectively to her stomach, the other reaching toward me.
And there’s a healer—young, with dark hair pulled back—leaning over me, her fingers pressed to my wrist, checking my pulse.
“Her heartbeat is strong,” the healer murmurs.
Relief should flood through me. I should feel safe surrounded by people who care about me.
But I don’t feel anything. Just a terrible numbness, that sense of being underwater.
“Selene?” Daciana’s voice is soft, gentle. “Can you hear me?”
I want to answer, to tell her yes, I can hear her, I’m here. I’m trapped, but I’m here.
My mouth doesn’t move, but my body sits up.
Except, I didn’t tell it to. I didn’t decide to move. My muscles just…did that. As if someone else pulled some strings and my body went with them.
Panic explodes somewhere deep inside me, buried under layers of fog. I’m watching through my own eyes, feeling through my own skin, but I’m not in control. It’s almost like I’m a passenger in my own body, screaming from behind soundproof glass while someone else drives.
“Selene?” Astra takes a step closer, her face brightening with hope. “Are you okay? You’ve been out for hours, and we were so worried—”
My hands flex.
Claws extend—sharp, deadly, gleaming in the lamplight.
I didn’t call for them. Didn’t shift. Didn’t even think about transforming. They just came out, sliding from my fingertips like they have a mind of their own.
Stop. Stop this. What’s happening? Why can’t I—
My wolf is silent. Completely, utterly silent. The constant presence I’ve had since I first shifted, the companion who has always been there in the back of my mind—gone. Not dead. Not sleeping. Just…absent. Locked away somewhere I can’t reach.
That terrifies me more than anything else.
I move.
Lightning fast. Faster than I’ve ever moved before. Too fast for anyone to react, too fast for Daciana to raise her hands in defense.
My claws are at her throat.
NO! STOP! PLEASE GOD, NO!
I scream with everything I have, every ounce of will, every desperate fragment of consciousness still floating in this nightmare. I thrash against the invisible chains holding me, flailing, fighting, begging.
But my claws tear through my friend’s flesh anyway.
Through skin. Through muscle. Through the delicate column of her throat.
Blood sprays hot across my face, across my hands, across everything. The metallic scent fills my nose, overwhelming and wrong. Daciana’s eyes go wide—so wide—with shock, with pain, with confusion.
With betrayal.
She tries to speak. Her mouth moves, but only a wet, gurgling sound comes out. Blood bubbles at her lips.
Then, she crumples. Her knees give out, and she falls, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.
NO NO NO NO THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!
But I don’t wake up. This is real. This is happening. I just killed Daciana.
The horror should crash through me like a tidal wave, but it’s distant, muffled, like I’m feeling it through layers and layers of thick cotton. The numbness swallows most of it, leaving only a dull, throbbing ache where the full weight of what I’ve done should be.
My body doesn’t care. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause to look at what it has done.
Astra screams. The sound is raw, primal, filled with terror. She backs away, stumbling over her own feet, one hand still protectively on her stomach. “Selene! What are you—”
The healer moves.
Fast. Faster than I would have expected from someone so young, so slight. She lunges past me, past Daciana’s body, and grabs Astra from behind. Her hand clamps over Astra’s mouth and nose, cutting off the scream.
Astra struggles. Her hands come up to claw at the healer’s arm, drawing blood. Her feet kick out, her body thrashing wildly. But the healer holds firm, her grip unbreakable despite Astra’s desperate fight.
What is she doing? Why is she—
Within seconds, Astra’s movements grow sluggish. Her eyes flutter. Her hands drop from the healer’s arm, falling lifelessly to her sides.
Then, her whole body goes limp.
The healer drags her to the window, grunting with effort. She opens it with her free hand, and the cold, night air rushes in.
Then, she looks at me.
Our eyes meet for just a moment. There’s something in her gaze—something I can’t quite read through my haze. Fear? Determination? Regret?
She steps aside from the open window, still holding Astra’s unconscious form.
My body moves toward them without my permission. My feet carry me past Daciana’s body, but I don’t look down. Can’t look down? Can’t face what I’ve done.
I reach the healer. She hands Astra to me, and my arms take her automatically, pulling her unconscious body to my chest. My friend is warm, breathing steadily despite whatever the healer did to her. Her head lolls against my shoulder.
The healer gestures sharply to the window.
My body climbs onto the sill. The drop is significant—we’re on the second floor. It should terrify me. Should make me hesitate.
But I don’t hesitate.
I jump.
The air rushes past me. My legs absorb the impact with a jarring thud that I barely feel, bending to cushion Astra’s weight. Then, I’m straightening, and then, I’m running.
The world feels wrong. So wrong. Like I’m moving through deep water, through something thick and heavy that slows everything down. The colors are all muted—the dark trees look gray, the moonlight dimmer than it should be. Sounds are distant and distorted, like I’m hearing them through a thick wall.
My thoughts are sluggish, disconnected. They drift through my mind like clouds, never quite forming into anything coherent.
Where am I going? Why am I running? Daciana is dead. I killed her. I need to go back. I need to—
But my feet don’t stop. They carry me through the dark woods, weaving between trees with practiced ease. My body knows where it’s going even if my mind doesn’t.
I try to stop. Try to plant my feet, to drop Astra, to turn back. Try with everything I have left.
My muscles don’t respond. They may as well belong to someone else.
Something flickers in my chest. A spike of panic that cuts through the numbness like a knife.
But the panic isn’t mine.
The realization hits me slowly, filtering through the fog. This fear, this sharp, immediate terror racing through my veins—it doesn’t belong to me. It’s too crisp, too clear. It’s someone else’s emotion, bleeding into my consciousness.
My wolf stirs. Finally. Just a whisper of presence, weak and confused, like she’s waking from a deep sleep.
Fight, she whimpers. Something’s wrong. Fight it.
I try. God, I try. I throw everything I have against the invisible chains holding me, every scrap of will, every desperate fragment of self.
Nothing changes. My feet keep moving, carrying me deeper into the forest. Away from the palace. Away from Daciana’s body. Away from everything.
The trees thin gradually. The dense forest gives way to scattered groves, then to open ground. An estate house rises before me in the distance, all stone and sharp angles. Even through the fog, even with my thoughts scattered and slow, I recognize it.
I’ve seen this place before. In dreams. In nightmares.
No. No, anywhere but here. Please, not here.
But my feet don’t stop. They carry me across the open ground, up the stone steps. Closer. Closer.
My heart should be pounding. Should be racing with fear. But I can’t feel it. Can’t feel anything except that distant, foreign panic that isn’t mine.
The front door swings open before I reach it.
Zane stands there.
He’s immaculate as always, dressed in dark clothing that makes him look like a shadow given form. His hair is perfectly styled, his posture relaxed and confident. And his smile—that cold, satisfied smile that makes my skin crawl—spreads across his face as he looks at me.
“Right on time,” he says, his voice smooth as silk.
I want to scream. Want to take Astra and run away. Want to shift and tear his throat out the way my body tore out Daciana’s.
Instead, I walk inside.
The interior is exactly as I remember from my nightmares. Dark wood floors, high ceilings, walls lined with portraits of stern-faced people I don’t know. It smells like old books and something else—something metallic and wrong.
My arms release Astra.
She lands on the floor like a broken doll, her head flopping to the side, her breathing shallow but steady. Her hand is still curved protectively over her stomach, even in her unconscious state.
Zane crouches beside her, his movements graceful and predatory. A cat examining a captured mouse.
He reaches for her wrist and lifts it gently, almost reverently. His fingers press against her pulse point. His eyes close.