Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
“Time for another chat,” Jim announces as the door swings open.
My wolf surges forward beneath my skin, hackles rising despite the silver’s suppression. She may be weakened, but she’s far from beaten. A low snarl rumbles through our bond as she recognizes the threat, her instincts screaming at me to fight, to run, to do anything but submit to these predators.
Danger, she warns, pressing against my consciousness with renewed strength.
I don’t respond to Jim as Bob and Prudence shuffle in behind him. My wolf’s agitation grows as she scents their intentions—violence, manipulation, pain. She paces restlessly beneath my skin, frustrated by the silver that keeps her caged.
I ignore the men and look at Prudence, watching as she moves to cower in the corner of my cell. She’s pale and trembling, her eyes darting between me and the guards.
My wolf’s snarl shifts to something almost protective as she senses the smaller woman’s terror.
Scared, my wolf observes, her fury momentarily tempered by recognition of another victim. Terror.
I should hate her and what she does, but I can’t. She’s a mouse of a woman, small and petite. She barely looks old enough to be dating, let alone have her own pup.
I inhale, catching her scent. This time, I pay attention to it–or rather, what it’s missing.
She carries the myrrh-like scent of a seer, dry and sharp at the edges. But there’s no animal under it. No wolf, no lynx, no bear. Nothing.
She’s human.
My gaze sharpens, raking over her again. Small. Fragile-looking. Skin so pale it seems like she’d bruise if you breathed on her wrong. Humans and weres didn’t mix. Not really. Not in blood, not in magic, not in anything that mattered.
Sure, there were always whispers—witches and warlocks claiming seer blood, little hedge magics bubbling at the edges of the real world. But a true seer? One who could survive the weight of Sight without breaking?
They were rare in the were world, and even rarer still in humans.
I don’t hate her—how could I? She’s as much a victim as I am, trapped in this nightmare through no choice of her own.
But I absolutely fucking loathe what she’s being forced to do, the agony she’s capable of inflicting.
The world she’s been dragged into is destroying her, piece by piece, and I can see it in every trembling line of her body.
The guards haul me to a chair they place in the center of the room and chain my existing restraints to it.
The additional silver burns fresh welts over yesterday’s wounds.
I could fight. Should fight. But the silver already around my wrists, ankles, and throat has sapped my strength. Fighting will only make what comes next worse.
“Same questions as yesterday,” Jim says, settling into his chair across from me. “Shadowmist’s safe houses. Where are they?”
“And I’ll give you the same answer,” I reply. “Go fuck yourself.”
Bob’s fist catches my ribs before I finish speaking. The air rushes out of my lungs in a pained wheeze, but I don’t cry out.
I’ll never give them the satisfaction.
“Prudence,” Jim says coldly. “You know what to do.”
She pulls her gloves off and reaches toward me, her eyes locked on mine.
“Make it a good one,” I growl. “I love horror movies.”
Her fingertips brush my temple, and the world dissolves.
I’m standing in a cell much like my own, but the prisoner isn’t me. A girl is chained to the wall, arms wrenched above her head, wrists raw where silver cuffs bite into her skin.
She’s young. Sixteen? Maybe younger. Honey-colored hair clings to her damp cheeks, eyes wide and brown and terrified.
“I don’t know anything,” she’s whispering. “Please—I don’t know anything about the other packs. I can’t just see things—”
Bob’s voice cuts through, rough and impatient. “Adelaide, you’ll see when we tell you to see or your family pays the price.”
Adelaide.
Her name hits me like a rock to the gut. Kier’s missing were.
The vision lurches, and I’m somewhere else. A cabin. Blood pools in sticky glistening puddles on the floor and streaked across the walls. Two people lay crumbled on the floor, their throats torn out.
The smell hits me even though I know it’s not real—copper and grief and ruin.
Adelaide’s parents.
My stomach twists. Even in the unreality of this vision, I can feel the despair bleeding off the scene.
Jim’s voice slithers through the dark, wrapping around the edges of my mind. “This is what happens to those who resist. Tell us what we want to know, Lithia.”
“Never.”
The vision intensifies, the bears on the floor rising from their death, mouths wide and gaping, eyes glassy and flat.
I turn to run and find Adelaide behind me.
As the bears approach snarling and growling, she holds out a hand.
“You aren’t alone,” she whispers.
My breath catches, heart slamming into my ribs.
“Tell Kier it wasn’t his fault. This had to happen—he had to meet you.”
The world convulses. Adelaide’s form wavering.
“Prudence will show you.”
The world spins and I’m in another room, this one small and bare but for a thin mattress and some blankets on the floor.
Prudence kneels the bed cradling a baby to her chest.
A baby.
It’s no older than three, maybe four months. Soft pale fuzz on her head, fists curled tight against Prudence’s shirt, little mouth open in a silent, wobbly cry.
“I’m sorry,” Prudence is whispering, over and over, rocking back and forth. “Please, please, don’t take her. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll do anything, just—”
Footsteps echo outside the door. A shadow moves under the gap.
“I can’t lose her too,” Prudence chokes out, clutching the baby closer, as if she can fold her small body around her and make them both disappear. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
The vision explodes outward, showing me flash after flash of Prudence’s torment. The guards threatening her baby. The sessions where she’s forced to rip apart other prisoners’ minds. The nights she cries herself to sleep, hating what she’s become.
And underneath it all, a desperate message meant only for me.
“If you escape—if anyone escapes—please. Please find her.”
I slam back into reality with such force that the chair tips backward, my restraints cutting deeper into my wrists as I crash to the floor.
“Lithia!” Prudence cries out, her mask slipping for just a moment before she catches herself.
“Get her up,” Jim orders Bob, who hauls me back into position with rough hands.
I’m shaking uncontrollably, the visions still burning through my mind. Adelaide’s message. Prudence’s plea. The knowledge that there are others here, other innocents being used against their will.
Prudence showed me weres, witches, warlocks, and fae. This is bigger than Thaddeus. This goes far beyond any one pack. This is an evil that has spread unchecked.
Until now.
“Well?” Jim demands. “Ready to cooperate?”
I look up at Prudence, meeting her terrified gaze. She did more than show me my fears—she shared her own. Told me about her daughter. Begged for help.
“I need water,” I gasp, buying time while my mind reels.
Jim nods to Bob, who produces a cup. The water is warm and tastes of rust, but it helps clear some of the fog from my head.
“The safe houses,” Jim prompts.
I lick the rust-tasting water off my lips, feeling the sting where they’re split. My body is shaking, every nerve screaming, but Prudence has lit a cold fuse within me.
I need to stop this. And to stop this, I need to survive.
“Old mine shaft,” I say finally. “Fifteen miles north of the main den. There’s a hidden entrance behind a waterfall.”
It’s not a lie, exactly. There is an old mine shaft there. We just don’t use it as a safe house—it’s been flooded for decades.
Jim makes a note. “How many can it hold?”
“Fifty wolves, last I checked. More if needed.” Again, not a lie. It’s what it held before the floods came and filled it with muck.
“Supplies?”
“I don’t know. That’s not my department.”
All truths that wouldn’t harm anyone. Let them waste time searching for something that doesn’t exist.
“Good,” Jim says, clearly satisfied. “See how easy that was? Tomorrow we’ll discuss the emergency evacuation routes.”
They unchain me from the chair, leaving my permanent silver restraints in place. Bob shoves me toward the back of my cell, and I collapse onto the thin mattress, every muscle in my body screaming. The silver burns are getting worse, and my head pounds from the vision-induced trauma.
But I have information now. Adelaide’s message. Prudence’s plea. The knowledge that there are others here who need help.
Gods, what a mess.
They haul the chair out and slam the door shut, leaving me to the darkness.
I listen as they move down the hall then stop.
“Morning, sunshine,” a guard’s voice calls through the wall. “Miss us?”
“Like a rash,” comes Kier’s reply. “Did you bring flowers? I feel like this relationship is getting serious.”
I hear the squeal of the old door swinging open followed by a fleshy thud and a grunt of pain.
“Still got that smart mouth, I see,” Bob says.
“It’s one of my best features,” Kier growls. “That and my sparkling personality.”
Another hit. Harder this time. I hear the crunch of bone, wincing in sympathy.
“Tell us who you were working with,” a different voice demands.
“Not sure how many times I need to tell you dumbasses this but no one,” Kier says firmly, though his voice has dropped to barely above a whisper. Each word sounds like it costs him effort. “I’m nomad. We lone wolves don’t exactly play well with others.”
The beating that follows is methodical, brutal. But through it all, Kier keeps talking smack.
“I have some feedback about your torture technique. Should I file that with you or your supervisor?”
Crack.
“It’s mostly constructive criticism. Well, some constructive. Some just criticism.” I can hear the exhaustion bleeding through now, the way his sentences are getting shorter, his words beginning to slur.
Thud.