Chapter 23
Karina
I'm drowning in a sea of shadows, my consciousness bobbing like a cork in black water. Up, down, surfacing for seconds before plunging back into inky blackness. The world spins without me, somewhere beyond the thick cotton that's replaced my brain.
“...still out cold. How much did you give her?”
The sound cuts through the fog, muffled and distant.
I try to force my eyes open, but my lids may as well be glued shut.
My limbs hang useless, heavy as stone, every muscle refusing to respond.
Only my wolf stirs, howling beneath my skin, clawing frantically against the chemical cage holding us both prisoner.
Damien?
I grope for the tether between us, finding it faint but still there. The effort of pushing along that thread stabs through my skull like knives, but I don’t stop.
Damien, please...
A jolt runs through my body, something hard beneath me shifting. Not a floor. A seat. The low growl of an engine and the steady vibration under my cheek confirm I’m in a car. My wrists are cinched tight behind me, plastic biting into my skin.
“...almost there. Make the next turn.”
Saloma.
My wolf surges at the sound of her, snarling, fighting to burn off the drug in our blood. The fog is thinning. My fingers twitch against the restraints—unyielding, but not unbreakable.
“She’s coming around,” another voice observes from the front. Lockhart. Heavy, guttural. “Good. I want her awake for what comes next.”
Ice floods my veins despite the drug's warm haze.
I keep my breathing steady, my body limp, playing unconscious while I gather what information I can.
We're moving fast—highway speeds. The dashboard clock glows 11:47 PM when I manage to crack my eyes open the tiniest fraction—less than an hour until moonrise.
“The clearing's just ahead,” Saloma declares. “Everything's been prepared according to your specifications.”
“Excellent.” Lockhart's satisfaction makes my skin crawl. “And the witnesses?”
“Waiting. Though I still think this is unnecessarily theatrical.”
“Theater has its place, Saloma. Binding her on her family's ancestral land, it sends a message. The old bloodlines will bow to the new order.”
My heart hammers against my ribs, but I force myself to remain still. My wolf surges against the chemical restraints, rage giving her strength. The old bloodlines. He wants to rape me on my family's land. The violation goes deeper than just my body. He's trying to desecrate everything.
Over my dead fucking body.
The car slows, tires crunching over gravel and fallen leaves.
Through my barely cracked eyelids, I catch glimpses of towering redwoods blocking out most of the moonlight.
We're deep in the forest now, far from any roads I recognize.
The perfect place for Lockhart to commit his crimes without witnesses.
“How long until the moon reaches its peak?” Lockhart asks as the engine cuts out.
“Forty-three minutes,” Saloma replies, checking what sounds like an expensive watch. “More than enough time for the ritual.”
Ritual. The word makes my stomach clench with dread. This isn't just about claiming me—it's about making a statement. A public declaration that Thomas Lockhart has conquered the Rosewood bloodline.
Car doors slam shut, and cold night air rushes in as they open the back door beside me. Lockhart's hands grip my shoulders, dragging me from the seat with no regard for gentleness. I let my body stay limp, my head lolling as he hauls me upright.
“Still playing dead, little wolf?” His breath is hot against my ear. “I can feel your pulse racing.” His fingers brush over my throat, lingering on my jugular. “The sedative is wearing off. No need to pretend.”
I jerk upright, every muscle tight with loathing. “Go to hell.”
He laughs, the sound echoing through the trees around us. “There she is. I was beginning to think Saloma had given you too much.”
I test the zip ties again, the plastic digging into my wrists. My muscles still feel leaden, my reactions slow, but the drug is definitely wearing off. My wolf paces beneath my skin, growing stronger with each passing minute.
Lockhart drags me forward into a small clearing. What I see makes my blood run cold.
A stone altar sits in the center, ancient and weathered, its surface stained with what I suspect is centuries of blood.
Torches surround it, casting long shadows across the faces of at least a dozen wolves watching me.
They're all masked, just like at Crimson Howl, but these masks are different—carved wood depicting various predators, painted with symbols I don't recognize.
“Welcome home, Karina. To the land your mother abandoned.”
I struggle against his grip, but my limbs still won't fully cooperate.
His grip on my arm tightens as he drags me toward the altar.
My feet stumble over exposed roots and stones, my body still fighting the sedative's grip.
The surrounding wolves move closer, forming a tighter circle around us, their masks hiding everything but hungry eyes that reflect the torchlight.
I scan the clearing desperately, looking for any escape route. The trees stand like silent sentinels, offering shadows but no salvation. Saloma moves ahead of us, placing something on the altar—a knife, its blade catching the firelight. My heart hammers against my ribs as panic claws up my throat.
“You're insane if you think I'll willingly accept you,” I spit, finally finding enough strength to dig my heels into the soft earth. “I'd rather die.”
Lockhart laughs, the sound echoing off the ancient trees. “Willing has nothing to do with it. Not when the moon rises.” He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Your wolf will recognize my dominance. She'll submit, even if you fight it.”
“My wolf despises you as much as I do,” I growl, feeling her rage building beneath my skin, burning through the last of the sedative's fog. The moon's pull growing stronger with each passing second.
“She’ll submit to me just to ease the ache of your heat cycle. You reek of desperation.”
“No, she won’t,” I spit back, tugging at my restraints.
He jerks me against him, snarling. “Defiance is something I will have to beat out of you once you’re my mate, it seems. Too bad for you, I will immensely enjoy doing it.”
“You will never have the chance.”
Rage surges through me, not just mine, but my wolf's too. She's fully awake now, snarling beneath my skin, her fury burning away the last vestiges of the sedative.
“Your mother should have taught you respect instead of how to hide in human skin. She was so busy teaching you to deny what you are that she forgot to teach you your place.”
“My mother saved me from monsters like you,” I spit, straining against his grip.
Lockhart's fingers dig deeper into my arm as he yanks me closer to the altar. “Saved you? She squandered you. She squandered all of you. She wasted a bloodline that could’ve produced legends on a beta. On a nobody. She weakened our kind because she was too soft, too blind. She could’ve bred power.
Instead she bred you, and now you are all that left of it. ”
“Yet you want what I can give you badly enough to force me to mate you,” I spit, twisting my face from his grip.
His hand cracks across my face, the slap echoing through the clearing. I taste blood, metallic and warm, as my lip splits under the force of the blow.
“The alphas of her time didn’t see her potential, but even as a pup, I did. Your mother could have strengthened our species had she picked the right mate. I won’t chance that happening again.”
The circle of masked onlookers tightens around us, their collective energy feeding the tension in the clearing.
“You could be the start of a new era, Karina. Strong females bred properly, loyal to the ones who shape them. Do you understand what that means? Every alpha from here to the northern border would pay to have what your blood can create.”
“You mean pay you.”
“Precisely, little wolf. Through you, and our pups, you will give me what your mother should have given her generation. The ability to create a pack that will rule everything.”
“Enough words, Thomas,” Saloma interjects. “Every second you waste goading the bitch, you risk being discovered.”
Lockhart’s jaw tightens, irritation flashing across his face at being interrupted. “You forget your place, Saloma,” he says without turning to her.
“I helped you find her,” Saloma hisses, stepping closer to Lockhart. “I drugged her. I got her out of that club under the Reaper's nose. And now you dare to speak to me of my place?”
“Your assistance has been noted,” Lockhart says coldly to Saloma. “You'll receive what was promised once I've completed the bond.”
“Then do it.”
“You’re denying me my fun, but I see your point.” He turns his attention back to me. “The moon is calling, little wolf.”
Lockhart drags me by my hair now, the sharp pain drawing a gasp from my lips as he pulls me toward the altar. The stone surface is cold against my back as he shoves me down, my bound arms crushed painfully beneath me.
“Keep her still,” he commands, and two masked figures step forward, their hands pinning my shoulders and ankles to the unforgiving stone.
I struggle against their grip, but my drugged muscles are still too weak to overpower them. The moon peeks through the canopy of trees above, its silver light falling across my face. My wolf howls at its touch, surging closer to the surface with each passing second.
Saloma takes a step forward towards me. I bare my teeth at her, letting my wolf rise closer to the surface. “Does Anselm know what his Luna is doing?”
Her laugh is sharp as the blade in her hands. “My husband is an old fool, too blinded by notions of honor. He chose me because I was the only option after I killed his first wife.”
My blood turns to ice at her casual admission of murder. This woman standing before me isn't just helping Lockhart. She's a monster in her own right.