Chapter 30 — Ethan
As I head across the courtyard, looking for Thea for an early dinner, movement by the eastern archway catches my eye. Rhiannon and Akila rush past, both looking serious as hell.
That can’t be good.
I duck behind one of the stone pillars, watching as they head toward the dungeon entrance. Something about how fast they’re moving makes my gut twist. I tail them without really thinking about it, keeping to the shadows and maintaining distance so they don’t catch my scent.
Conan stands guard outside the heavy wooden door, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by sharp alertness as the three exchange quiet words before disappearing inside.
The cool stone wall presses against my back as I slip through the entrance. Their voices echo through the dungeon corridor.
“Xander’s orders.” Rhiannon moves toward the cell like she’s fighting every step, like she hates what she has to carry out, but she keeps going anyway. “Iron shackles, effective immediately.”
“What the hell?” Jayme’s response is sharp with disbelief. “I’m already locked up like an animal.”
“Jayme—” Akila starts.
I edge closer until Jayme comes into view, standing on the other side of the bars with his large forearms crossed in defiance.
“What do they want from me? I told you that I don’t know what happened with the Shaman. I don’t remember even seeing him yesterday!”
“Hey,” Conan says softly. “It’s going to be okay.”
“At least I remember being with Haron in the garden the other night,” Jayme continues, “even if I don’t remember attacking her either. What the fuck is happening? It’s like— like pieces of my mind are missing.”
My head shakes with pity. He doesn’t even remember seeing Holden.
“We need your cooperation, Jayme,” Rhiannon says, her voice softer than usual. “These restraints are just temporary. I’m still working to prove your innocence.”
Jayme’s shoulders sag as he sits on his cot. “Fine. Whatever it takes.”
Conan fumbles with the keys, the metal clanking against the iron bars. The sound echoes throughout the stone corridor like a death knell. My chest tightens as I watch Rhiannon step into the cell, the shackles heavy in her hands.
“I can’t figure out how this keeps happening when I don’t remember any of it,” Jayme says. “It’s as if someone else is out there committing these crimes, posing as me.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Rhiannon promises, kneeling beside him. “I still believe you.”
Jayme extends his hands, wrists up. “I feel like I’m losing my—”
His words cut off in a strangled gasp. His entire body convulses, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he doubles over in pain.
“Jayme?” Akila steps forward, concern etched across her face.
The transformation hits like lightning. Bones crack and reshape with sickening pops. Jayme’s agonized scream morphs into something inhuman as his body expands, his clothes shredding away. Fur erupts across his skin as his face elongates into a massive muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth.
But this isn’t shifting like I’ve seen Lycans do before.
I’ve seen Jayme’s wolf emerge many times during training.
This is not his normal wolf. This creature is enormous, easily twice the size of Branson, who is the largest Lycan I’ve encountered.
Dark fur streaked with crimson patches covers his massive frame.
His eyes glow white, completely devoid of recognition or humanity.
“Jayme!” Rhiannon scrambles backward as the beast’s deafening bellow reverberates through the stone chamber.
Akila dives for the wall and slams her fist against the red alarm button. The piercing wail fills the dungeon and echoes outside.
Jayme, or whatever he’s become, flings his cot at Rhiannon. She narrowly dodges it before it crashes against the cell bars, bending the iron with a deafening clang.
The creature lunges from the cell, targeting Conan. He leaps sideways just in time, evading colossal claws that tear deep gashes into the stone.
Akila shifts mid-jump, her brown wolf form tackling the beast’s hindquarters, but Jayme throws her off like she weighs nothing. She hits the opposite wall with a sickening thud.
The beast’s white eyes lock onto Rhiannon again.
She draws her sword, but hesitates to use it against him, knowing Jayme is still somewhere in that monster. His massive jaws open, revealing teeth like daggers.
Time slows to a crawl. Rhiannon retreats, but the stone wall blocks her escape, leaving her cornered in the narrow space.
All I can think is, No, not again.
That familiar freeze takes hold. That same helpless feeling from childhood, watching my father’s fists connect with my mother’s face while I cowered in the corner, too small and weak to intervene. I was paralyzed like a coward, too, when that blade meant for me had pierced Rhiannon’s shoulder.
But this time is different.
Never again. I won’t be useless this time.
Panic spikes within me, a familiar wave I’ve felt a thousand times before. But this time, it doesn’t hold me in place. Instead, my pulse stutters, then catches on a second rhythm that doesn’t quite feel like mine.
My gaze snaps toward Rhiannon, still trapped against the stone wall with nowhere to go. The strange double-thump in my chest intensifies, beating stronger the longer I look at her. Whatever’s happening in my body is tied to her.
I shove the weirdness of it aside. You can figure it out later. Right now, there’s a giant murder-wolf between us.
My eyes dart around the dungeon corridor, settling on a pile of rusted metal near the wall, underneath a broken torch sconce.
I grab the largest piece, which turns out to be a mounting bracket meant to attached the torch to the wall.
It’s a three-foot-long, thick iron rod with a wicked hook at one end.
The beast charges Rhiannon just as I vault over the stone ledge into the corridor.
“Hey!” I roar, swinging the iron rod with everything I’ve got.
It connects with Jayme’s massive skull with a resounding clang, but it doesn’t hurt him. Nothing I could throw at something that size would do real damage, but it gets his attention.
Those white eyes swivel toward me, filled with predatory hunger. Perfect.
“Come on, you overgrown mutt,” I call out, moving back toward the center of the corridor. “I’m right here.”
Jayme lunges for me, but his enormous size works against him in the narrow space. I dart between his legs, jabbing the hooked end of the rod into his ribs before rolling away from his snapping jaws.
“Ethan, get out of there!” Rhiannon’s voice rips across the corridor with more panic than even I feel.
No chance. I’m not abandoning you again.
The beast spins with surprising speed, one massive paw catching me across the chest. The impact sends me flying, and I crash into the stone wall hard enough to see stars. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but I force myself back to my feet.
Two enormous wolves tear through the dungeon entrance. One of them is Branson — I’d know his dark brown form anywhere — but the massive black wolf behind him is a stranger. The black wolf is larger than Branson, radiating an authority that prickles across my skin.
It has to be Xander.
I swing the iron rod again, hook it around Jayme’s rear leg, and yank hard. He stumbles. Branson tackles him from the side.
The black wolf — definitely Xander — joins the fray, jaws clamping down on Jayme’s throat while Branson secures his hindquarters. But even with both of them restraining him, the giant wolf thrashes with terrifying strength.
Rhiannon regains her footing. “Ropes! Now!”
Conan and Akila, back in human form, emerge with the rope and some chains for good measure. I grab a length of it, wrapping it around Jayme’s massive front paws while Rhiannon secures his back legs.
“Hold him steady!” Akila loops the chain around the beast’s muzzle.
Jayme’s struggles grow more frantic, his white eyes rolling wildly as consciousness fights against whatever force has taken control. His massive body bucks and twists, threatening to break free of our combined efforts.
Branson shifts back to human form while maintaining his grip on the beast’s shoulders. “Jayme, I know you’re in there. Fight it!”
For a split second, those white eyes flicker, a flash of recognition of the man trapped inside the monster.
Branson seizes the brief lull to drive his fingers against the thick muscles at Jayme’s nape, what must be a Lycan pressure point.
Jayme’s entire body goes rigid for a heartbeat, then collapses like a marionette with cut strings. The massive wolf form shrinks, dark fur receding as bones crack back into human proportions.
Within moments, Jayme is lying unconscious on the stone floor, fully human and, mercifully, simply naked, rather than torn apart by his own transformation.
The dungeon doors clang shut as we drag Jayme’s unconscious form back into the cell. His breathing is steady but ragged, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm that reminds me of my own aching ribs.
Conan and Akila haul him toward the back wall where massive iron loops are embedded in the ancient stone, thick enough to restrain something far larger than a man.
They hold him down as Rhiannon secures the iron shackles around Jayme’s wrists and ankles.
Xander crouches defensively in his wolf form, the silver in his eyes intense, his muscles coiled to pounce if Jayme awakens.
The chains rattle as they lock into place, reverberating throughout the chamber with grim finality.
Xander finally transforms back into human form, blue eyes scanning us for injuries. “Everyone okay?”
We exchange nods as the adrenaline rush fades. Relief washes over us, the immediate danger passed.
I lean against the wall. Somewhere in the fray, I must have picked up the iron rod again. My chest throbs where Jayme’s claws connected, and I can still taste blood, but I’m standing. More importantly, so is everyone else.
Branson stands just outside the cell, his naked form rigid, every muscle locked tight. His gaze is fixed on Jayme’s unconscious features, his shoulders sagging with resignation.