Chapter 25
THORNE
Red. Glowing, hollow red eyes.
I couldn’t breathe. And when I did, it fucking hurt. Like I was breathing in glass shards.
I stared at the witch in the shadows, but I wasn’t seeing Wren. I was seeing her. Trystan’s accomplice. The witch who gave him the power to steal my mind.
The walls of the lumber mill dissolved. The cracked concrete beneath my boots vanished, replaced by cold, unforgiving cobblestone.
My lungs seized. Suddenly, I was lying on my back in that dark alleyway again.
Blood slicked my hands, sticky and warm.
The metallic taste of copper flooded my tongue, choking me.
Calder’s face appeared above me, his calloused palms cupping my cheeks, his voice desperate. But that didn’t make sense. Calder hadn’t been there that night.
The sound of his voice vanished, lost to a deafening, high-pitched roar in my ears.
I blinked. I tried to focus on his features, but they flickered, then disappeared.
Replaced by Trystan’s face, hovering above me.
Another flicker. Ella. Another flicker. Wren.
Eyes burning in the darkness like scalding blood.
No, no, no! This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. The logical, rational part of my brain screamed that at me, that Wren wasn’t the witch who hurt me. Izzy told me that witch was dead. Promised me. But my body didn’t believe me.
I couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. My nervous system had completely hijacked my body, dragging me backward through time, locking me in a nightmare I’d barely survived a few months ago.
All because of red eyes.
The leaden box slipped from my rigid fingers, and still, I couldn’t move.
I gasped when Trystan’s ghost took shape again. I needed to break free of this. Calder needed me. That much I knew. I had to break free.
“Thorne!” someone yelled.
Calder.
I trembled, my body locked. And the memories. My gods, the memories. They streamed through my head like I was living that moment again.
Stop.
Stop.
“Stop!” I shouted aloud.
My eyes snapped open, but my lungs still wouldn’t work. The abandoned lumber mill blurred at the edges, my mind half-trapped in the dark. My memories held me prisoner, trapping me in this fake reality, jumping between the alleyway and the present.
But then, a sudden explosion of silver light tore right through my tunnel vision. The interruption was so violent, it broke through my panic attack and shoved me straight into reality. Finally, I could move. The first thing I did was throw my arm up, shielding my face.
Across the room, Evander held the gem up to the moonlight. And from the gem came this piercing glow. It enveloped Evander, painting him in the loveliest of light, and wherever it touched him, he changed.
The transformation started at his feet and spread upward, stretching him taller and taller until he towered over us.
It was almost like watching a werewolf take wolf form.
Except Evander’s human frame changed into a ghastly, skeletal creature.
His chest cavity broke wide open, exposing a ribbed vault of pale, reinforced bone.
His arms elongated into spindly sticks that ended in wicked, overgrown talons that scraped against his knobby knees.
And from his back sprouted these shadows that writhed and moved as he did.
I forced myself to look at his face, which was little more than a hollowed-out mask cut into terrifying angles. Gone were his human eyes, replaced by deep, dark voids that consumed all light, yet peered right into your soul.
In one of those hideous hands, he still held the gem. But now, it was pale and robbed of all magic. Had he taken it into himself? And become…whatever this was? I’d read stories of the fae, I’d seen the pictures. He looked like something taken straight from their texts. Truly and utterly monstrous.
Worse, he wasn’t the only monster here.
To his right stood Wren, whose mouth had split into a terrifying grin, her eyes still burning a deep red.
To his left stood Adrian, in all his bear-like glory.
Three apex monsters.
And standing directly between them and me was Calder.
The sight of my mate standing alone against certain death was the final shock my system needed.
The lingering haze vanished, snapping my world back into hyper-focused clarity.
I was not in an alleyway. I was not bleeding out.
I was not staring at the witch who had hurt me.
I was Thorne Wolfe, and I had to take back control.
A deep, guttural snarl tore free of Calder’s throat seconds before he shifted into a massive, midnight-black alpha werewolf. His hackles rose until he looked twice his normal size, then he threw back his head and howled.
Summoning reinforcements.
The sound of his howl sparked my wolf into action, and she came rushing forward, pouring out of my body in a single breath.
Once all four paws hit the concrete, I shook myself off, ridding myself of any lingering effects from the panic attack.
I couldn’t let it affect me any more than it already had. Calder needed me.
His howl had barely stopped ringing through the lumber mill when three streaks of fur shot through the nearest wall opening.
Their nails clicked against the floor as Cassian and Ricky took position on my right and Felix on Calder’s left.
We all stared at the monstrous fae creature before us, who’d grown to four times our size, if not more.
I could honestly say, in all my years, I’d never seen anything like this before.
And deep down, I wasn’t sure the five of us could handle the bear, the witch, and the fae.
As though my brothers’ entrance was the cue they’d been waiting for, Adrian lowered his head and roared, his lips flapping, then charged. For a bear, he moved with terrifying speed, his thick claws gripping the concrete floor as he ran.
Calder bunched his legs beneath his body, then lunged at the bear, meeting him head-on.
They collided with a sickening crash. Calder shredded Adrian’s face with his claws, then dipped low and snapped his jaws closed around the bear’s massive front leg.
With a roar, Adrian gripped Calder by the back of his neck and threw my mate through the air.
He crashed hard into the closest wall, the framing cracking beneath his weight.
Rage burned in my chest. I wanted to go after Adrian, but we had a plan. No matter how much I wanted to rip that stupid bear to pieces, I had a bigger target to face. And mine was now much bigger. But thankfully, I had three overprotective brothers at my side.
I snarled, digging my claws in to launch myself at Evander, when the air in front of me suddenly superheated.
Instinct took over, and I threw my body sideways just as a blast of crackling red magic scorched the air where my head had been.
The spell missed me and slammed into the floor where I’d been standing, blasting a crater into the concrete.
I scrambled back to my feet, spinning to bare my fangs at Wren.
The witch’s mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. Her red eyes burned bright in the shadows. She raised both hands, her fingers quickly weaving a new, sickeningly bright spell.
Cassian caught my eye and nodded, then jerked his head toward the witch.
Fine. Wren was mine. While my brothers handled Evander.
This hadn’t been our original plan. But then, our original plan had banked on the Ravenspells showing up to do their part.
Clearly, they’d decided to let us handle this mess.
I made a mental note to dump a steaming pile of wolf shit on the Ravenspells porch—provided we survived this—then lunged into action, sprinting toward Wren.
At the same time, my brothers shot toward Evander. But I couldn’t focus on them. Nor could I spare a glance at the battle unfolding behind me between Calder and Adrian. I had to focus.
It was me and Wren. Werewolf against witch.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I felt a wave of dizziness surge through me.
No, I growled at myself. No more panic attacks. Especially not now, when my life depended on it. This was my moment, my one chance, to unleash myself on a witch. Maybe it would be therapeutic to rip her throat out. But I had to be present in order to accomplish that. I could not falter.
I didn’t run in a straight line. Magic loved predictability like that. If I gave Wren a clear shot, she’d turn me to ash before I could even reach her.
Instead, I zig-zagged through the warehouse, my gaze locked on the witch. I focused on her weak spots—stomach and throat—instead of her eyes. I didn’t need to see her eyes to be able to kill her.
Wren lifted her hands and released a spell.
The stench of black magic turned the air acrid seconds before a sphere of pure, blistering red energy shot toward me.
I threw myself to the ground and rolled to avoid the magic sailing inches above my back.
The sheer heat singed my fur, but thankfully, I didn’t catch fire.
I scrambled back to my feet and resumed course.
Close the gap. Get to her throat.
Wren’s arrogant sneer faltered. Clearly, she hadn’t expected me to recover so quickly. She threw her hands out, palms facing me, and yelled a guttural word I didn’t understand. It almost sounded demonic, which wouldn’t surprise me considering her tendencies.
The ground beneath my feet imploded.
Concrete shrapnel tore through the air like little daggers.
I tucked my head down to protect my throat and eyes, but the rest of me took the brunt of the blow.
Something hot and sharp sliced a deep gash along my right flank.
Another across my lower chest. Pain flared, and I whimpered, but I couldn’t stop.
I pressed forward, my lips peeled back and fangs on display.
I just needed one good bite.
Two feet away. Close enough to smell the evil that clung to her aura.
I leaped, aiming all my weight and momentum right at her chest.