Chapter 38
SHE'S WRONG
NIA
My head pounds, each throb a hammer strike that dents my sanity a little more.
The thoughts rattling through my skull are nothing compared to the pain being meted out on it, and I recoil, shrinking away from the light that hurts my eyes.
Darkness presses in from all sides, thick and suffocating, but the cold, damp stone beneath me is a harsher reality.
The air I snatch tastes of rot and mold, and death clings to my skin like a second layer.
A shudder crawls down my spine as I blink against the dark, trying to piece together the events that brought me here. It’s hard to focus and I let myself sink, dropping my weight and using the bit of the iron shackles as they dig into my wrists to rouse me.
I remember some of the ambush. There are flashes of chaos and the splatter of fresh red blood as I inflicted damage on wolves who shouldn’t have been there. Pain burns through my side and I flinch, reliving the agony as something was plunged into my flank.
Technically, Lyall’s flank.
She howled and whipped around so fast that she almost sent me spiraling away from her, and I’m damn sure that’s how we lost the fight.
We were holding our own until then, despite the numbers stacked against us.
Until the swift strike from behind and a sting of sharp and searing heat that left me cold.
And I heard my father’s voice, calling me anywhere but home.
We’re not in Montana anymore, and this is bad.
“Nia.”
Lyall’s voice is a rasp in my mind, her tone strained and faint. My wolf’s presence is like a flickering flame, barely staying alight. It’s the same as it used to be before I realized Lyall should be something else. Before I’d started recovering from the poison my father was dripping into me.
“I’m here.”
Lyall’s pain bleeds into mine, a dull ache radiating through every muscle and bone.
The marrow and the trabeculae buckle as agony threatens to destroy them as the bond between me and my wolf weakens a little.
My limbs are too heavy, my breaths far too shallow and I force my eyes to focus on the rough edges of stone instead of the darkness trying to drown me in despair.
I stare at the solid wooden door with its tiny, barred window and rusty iron lock. It’s intimidating and designed to be that way, robbing the cell’s occupant of any remaining hope or thought they might escape this small and miserable chamber.
“We’re getting out of this.”
I wish I had my wolf’s confidence.
The air stirs and I catch a tinge of blood mingling with the dankness.
My father’s dungeons are as despicable and bleak as I thought but they’re worse than I imagined.
They’re buried deep beneath the estate, hidden from prying eyes, and while we pretend they’re forgotten, they never are.
They’re the nightmare that haunts the pack and I wince, wondering what secrets and souls died here.
Iron creaks somewhere nearby, and I freeze, straining to hear over the rush of blood through my ears and adrenaline in my veins. Footsteps echo down the corridor, slow and measured, the sound bouncing off the stone walls.
This is dangerous, but it’s also a chance to figure out what the fuck is going on. There’s a wariness in Lyall that I’m not used to and in recent weeks, she’s been sure. She’s been fierce. Now, she’s as beaten and bloodied as I am, struggling to hold on.
“Don’t break.”
My whisper is a prayer muttered under my breath to a goddess who might have abandoned me. The words are for more than her. They’re a promise to hold back the storm waves about to bear down on me. They’re a promise to endure this and every moment of despair until Luke finds me.
My lips crack as I speak, the taste of blood sharp in my mouth, a herald of what’s to come.
“We won’t,” Lyall agrees.
For a moment, there’s a flicker of warmth in my chest. A shared determination. It’s not much but it’s enough to remind me who I am. Who we are. What we are.
And we’re not breaking here.
The footsteps grow closer, heavier, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle.
Muffled grunts sound out before something thuds against stone, its softness crashing into the hard dungeon walls with a permanence that suggests its owner won’t get up again.
There’s enough death in this forsaken place to make another fatality do little to change the atmosphere, but I edge backward as the fighting grows louder.
There are groans and grunts, the sound of flesh pounding flesh.
A sharp hiss of an edge slicing through flesh sounds out and seconds later the dull splatter of arterial spray hitting the stone echoes through the dungeons.
Metal clashes against stones, more and more cries occur and then there’s nothing but silence.
Cold and deafening silence cuts through the door of my cell and I stare back, certain the fight’s about to burst through it.
Metal shrieks as bolts slide across and the pins of the lock clink as they move out of place.
The door flies open, slamming against the wall with a crack as loud as thunder.
I flinch, raising an arm to shield my face from the dust and dirt falling from the ceiling, protecting my eyes from a ray of light that pours through the doorway.
It’s hard and blinding, and I’m forced to squint, barely making out the figure silhouetted against the doorway.
It's familiar, but it’s the last person I expected it to be.
“You look like shit.”
Will’s voice contains every note of condescension he’s ever sung. He’s rarely spoken a kind word to me, never offered me anything but contempt. Yet here he is, panting, a cut across his cheek, dripping blood, and his eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes—are locked on mine.
“What are you doing?”
He shakes his head and steps closer. “Getting you out of here, Nia. Unless you fancy rotting in your father’s dungeons.”
Will fumbles with the chains around my wrists and I blink, half-convinced he’ll vanish if I look away.
I’m not certain I believe what my eyes are seeing, but the urgency with which he works is unmistakable.
His fingers brush my skin and their warmth licks through me, forcing me to bite back a wince as he works to free me.
Goddess only knows if I can trust him. At least, entirely. He and I have never been friends but perhaps my enemy’s enemy can be one, for now.
“You’re wondering why I’m doing this,” he says, freeing my wrists from the shackles. “Your father isn’t the future of this pack, Nia. He’s lost his goddamn mind, and his insanity will kill us all. You need to survive and come back stronger. Now get up and move.”
My body screams in protest as I shift, the pain stings and it cuts across my vision and makes its edges blur.
“I thought you hated me,” I rasp.
Will hauls me onto my feet and my legs struggle to work, stiff from their uncomfortable position.
He slides his arm around me, lifting mine over his as we stagger out of the cell and into the passage that will lead us out of here.
Will’s dragging me with him, forcing me to move faster than my body wants, and my head knows he’s right.
There’s no time to lose and every single second counts.
“I never hated you, Nia,” Will says, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ve kept my distance for a different reason.”
He glances down at me, his expression hardening as we race through toward the end of this corridor.
For a moment, I think he won’t answer, but then he lets out a rough sigh as we pass yet another door to another cell.
I haven’t counted how many we’ve passed and I lift my head, focusing on what lies ahead for the first time since I arrived here.
“Carrie,” Will bites back.
His words are gruff, almost reluctant, but they cut through the fog in my mind, leaving me reeling.
For the first time in days, something other than pain sparks inside me—a small ember of anger lights, fragile but real.
I swallow hard, nodding even though his words don’t quite make sense yet.
I’m gaining strength with every step but Lyall and I need it to happen faster and my wolf’s gone quiet, conserving her strength in case we need it.
There’s no time for more, the sounds of footsteps descending the stairs echo down the corridor, closer now, and Will curses under his breath.
“Stay close,” he orders, shifting to keep me half-hidden behind him as his wolf crouches, reading to surge forward. His frame coils with tension as I press a hand to my side, harnessing the pain I inflict to force myself to focus as the threat draws nearer.
The footsteps grow louder, heavy boots striking against the stone floor, reverberating through the stale air of the dungeon.
The brown wolf next to me prowls through my father’s prison, muscles rippling beneath mottled fur that reminds me of the forest. I cling to him, forcing myself to match his pace, as every step sends a fresh wave of agony jolting through my side.
We refuse to slow.
I can’t read Will or his wolf now I’m no longer part of his pack, but I’m sure we’re together. It’s a strange and uncomfortable feeling, but I push back my doubts as I move without hesitation, heading into a fight I hope he’ll win.
The figures that descend the stairs are shadows of a past I never wanted to revisit.
I recognize the shapes as men I barely know, hired by my father to protect his pack.
My teeth grind, aware far too late that they weren’t hired to save us but to control us, and their eyes glow with a feral light as their expressions twist into snarls.
Will’s growl deepens, rumbling through the air, and without a sound, he lunges forward, his body a blur of muscle and fur.