Chapter 8
That afternoon, Nadia found herself standing outside the entrance to an abandoned mine with a backpack over her shoulder.
Snow drifted steadily from the sky, soft flakes settling into her hair, clinging to the shoulders of her coat, melting slowly at her collar.
She blinked against the cold and stared at the dark slash in the mountain ahead.
The opening yawned wide and uneven, framed by sagging timbers and splintered beams that looked one hard breath away from giving up entirely.
The rock around it was darker than the surrounding stone, stained by years of moisture and neglect.
“Are you sure this is safe?” she asked.
Bulwark snorted beside her, his breath puffing white in the cold.
Solomon stood a few feet back with the ladies on either side of him, his posture straight, his expression maddeningly calm. “No,” he said. “It’s not safe. None of this is supposed to be safe.”
Well. That was just fantastic.
Nadia shifted her weight and looked up at Bulwark. He loomed beside her, broad shoulders dusted with snow, his expression unreadable. “You’re on board with this?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I like danger.”
Yeah. Obviously.
Solomon stepped forward and handed Bulwark a portable diamond core drill.
The weight of it looked substantial even in Bulwark’s hands.
“You need to find a sample of roofing-grade slate with a seventy to eighty percent usable yield,” Solomon said.
“It’s in there. Even though we don’t use this mine very often, we’re close to reopening it.
We’ve already found promising samples.” He gestured toward the entrance.
“Now you need to find one that proves it.”
Bulwark glanced down at Nadia. “You ever done this before?”
“No,” she said flatly. “I’m a farmer, not a miner.
I mean, I’ve read up a little bit about mining, but I’m not expert.
Not even close.” The idea of walking into the darkened interior, past the bowed beams and cracked supports, made a chill slide down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
The mine smelled damp and old. Like earth that hadn’t seen daylight in a very long time. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s a horrible idea,” Bussy said briskly. “Can’t we find a different challenge?”
Solomon shoved his gloved hands in his pockets. “No. Nadia chose a challenge out of the envelope, and this is it. We’re the Slate Pack. Being able to mine slate matters.”
“So does safety,” Nadia said.
Solomon kicked snow off his boots. “Bulwark has to keep you safe. If he doesn’t, he dies.”
“I don’t think I like that,” Bulwark muttered.
“Too bad,” Solomon said, leaning forward and handing Nadia a hard hat with a mounted light. “Those are the rules. Anytime the potential mate—”
“Or trophy,” Margaret added.
“—or trophy,” Solomon continued, “is with you on a challenge, she must emerge alive. If she doesn’t, we all kill you. It’s that simple.”
Nadia appreciated the bluntness. She truly did not want to die.
“Got it,” Bulwark echoed. He reached for his own hard hat and snapped the light on. The beam cut a narrow slice into the darkness of the mine.
“How are we going to know?” Nadia asked quietly. “The slate. The seventy to eighty percent yield.”
“You either know,” Solomon said, “or you don’t.”
Bulwark frowned. “I didn’t jump into this blind. I’ve studied slate.”
“Good,” Solomon said. “Then find a good vein. Chances are the minute someone becomes Alpha, we’ll start mining it. There should be several promising sections deeper in. If you hear running water, watch the floor. You don’t want to fall through it.”
Nadia exchanged a look with Bussy.
Margaret stepped closer and patted her arm.
“It’s okay, Nadia. I used to mine all the time.
Just keep your wits about you. If the earth starts to rumble, get down, seek safety, and breathe.
” She smiled, but her lips trembled slightly.
“You’re a wolf. Don’t forget that. If you have to shift, shift to get out.
The mine has several entry and exit points. This isn’t the only one.”
That was not as comforting as Margaret probably intended.
“I have full faith,” Margaret added.
Nadia looked around, wishing Caidrik was anywhere nearby, but he wasn’t. He’d been chosen by Taryn first, and their challenge was a mystery. None of the challenges were shared with the other contenders, so they couldn’t make comparisons. Was he intrigued by the beautiful shifter?
“Are you sure you had twenty different challenges in that envelope?” Nadia asked.
Solomon nodded. “Of course. They’re all different. You won’t run into anyone else, especially not here. This mine’s been abandoned for years.”
“Let’s go,” Bulwark said. He turned, ducked his head, and stepped into the darkness. The mine swallowed him almost immediately.
Bussy pulled Nadia in for a quick hug, her arms firm and surprisingly strong. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Okay.” Nadia stepped back and flicked on her helmet lamp.
The light felt small and inadequate against the dark ahead.
The walls just inside the entrance were slick with moisture, slate layers visible where old tool marks had chipped them unevenly.
Rusted bolts jutted from the stone. The ceiling dipped lower than she liked, and water dripped somewhere deeper inside, slow and steady.
She took one last breath of cold, clean air.
Then she turned and followed Bulwark into the mine.
The ground sloped sharply downward, and Nadia tightened her legs to keep her balance, boots scraping over loose gravel and damp stone. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked, trying to hurry enough to stay close to him without outright running.
“Not really,” Bulwark admitted, his voice echoing off the rocks. “I mean, how hard can it be?”
That was not reassuring.
She caught up enough to see his outline more clearly, his helmet light cutting a narrow tunnel through the dark. The mine pressed in on every side now, the walls close enough that her shoulders felt boxed in even when she wasn’t touching them. The air smelled of wet rock and old earth.
Bulwark pointed toward a section of boards bolted into the nearest wall. “They shored this place up recently.”
Her pulse jumped. “Yeah?” Hope edged into her voice despite herself.
“Yeah. They didn’t just send us in here blind. See those boards? They’re new.”
Nadia let out a breath. “Good. All right. That’s a good thing.” She scrambled to keep up with him. “So,” she murmured, more to steady herself than anything else. “According to the small amount of research I conducted, the sidewalls are where we get the good veins.”
“All right,” Bulwark said. “Then let’s keep going. Deeper.” He moved forward with more confidence than she felt, watching the walls where old tool marks scarred the stone. “If we find somewhere the crosscuts were started but not expanded, we should be in good shape.”
“Sounds good,” she said. She immediately tripped on a loose rock and barely caught herself, throwing a hand out to brace against the wall. The slate felt colder there, slick under her glove. At least the tunnel was tall enough that Bulwark didn’t have to duck yet.
He took a sharp right, and she stayed closer, not trusting the way the darkness swallowed distance.
“Do you know how to use a diamond drill?” she asked.
“Sure,” he muttered. “How hard can it be?”
“All right,” she said. “Fair enough.”
When he decided to stop and drill, she’d move out of the way. She didn’t know much about mining, but messing with the earth deep underground felt like a great way to cause a cave-in.
The walls grew darker as they went, the stone taking on a denser color.
Blue-gray shifted to charcoal, then nearly black where moisture had soaked deep into the layers.
She reached out again, fingertips brushing the surface.
It wasn’t smooth anymore. Subtle lines ran through it, clean and tight, like pages pressed together.
“Wow,” she whispered.
An old timber support came into view, cracked and bowed, its base half-buried in rubble. They were definitely deeper now.
“Are you sure this isn’t a good place?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Bulwark said. He ducked his head and stepped down into a small round chamber. Nadia followed, nerves jangling, and stopped short. The space opened up just enough to feel intentional. Smooth rocks. Scuffed floor. Old marks where carts or crates might’ve rested.
“Oh,” she said. “This must’ve been a staging place.”
Bulwark nodded and straightened, stretching his back. “Yeah. Maybe now’s a good time for you and me to get some things straight.”
Her shoulders tightened. She planted her hands on her hips as he turned to face her.
“I want you to lose the attitude,” he said. “I’m done with that.”
She blinked. “Are you joking? So much for an apology. You tried to kill me.”
“Yeah, but if I really cared whether you lived or died, you’d be dead,” he muttered.
Her chest tightened. “You stabbed me in the back. What kind of guy does that?”
He shrugged. “Someone under orders. I was hired and promised that once I helped Raya take over Jackson’s pack, she’d help me take over this one. Simple.”
Nadia’s jaw clenched. “Raya is dead.”
“I know.” His gaze didn’t waver. “She turned on Jackson and tried to kill several people. She died as a result. I don’t work for her anymore. Now I’m going to lead this pack.” He moved toward her.
She backed up. “What are you doing?”
“Just seeing if we’re compatible.”
Before she could react, he grabbed her arms and lifted her, too easily, pinning her against the smooth slate wall. Cold stone pressed into her spine.
“Hey,” she snapped, kicking at him. “Knock it off.”
He crushed his mouth to hers.
She bit his lip hard.
“Whoa.” He jerked back, shock flashing across his face. “Do that again,” he said darkly, “and I’ll smack you.”
The mine felt very small all of a sudden.
“You’re responsible for my safety,” Nadia spat, struggling as she tried to wrench herself free. “Remember that?”
“I am getting you out of here safely,” Bulwark snapped back. “They didn’t say anything about what condition you’d be in.”
He tossed her aside.
She hit the ground hard, her knees slamming into the packed earth. Pain shot up her legs, sharp and immediate, stealing her breath for a second. Grit worked its way through the fabric of her pants, biting into skin.
“You are such a dick,” she growled, shoving herself upright just as he backhanded her.
She didn’t see it coming. It came out of the darkness, sudden and brutal.
Her head snapped sideways, and she flew into the sidewall.
Her hands hit first, palms scraping against slate.
The skin split in thin lines, hot and stinging.
Her shoulder followed, knocking the breath out of her again.
“You’d better learn to watch yourself,” Bulwark said calmly. “I have no problem beating the crap out of you.”
Her vision swam. Stars burst behind her eyes. If she’d had a weapon, she would’ve used it without hesitation. She pressed a hand to her face, jaw throbbing, cheek already swelling.
Caidrik already wanted this guy dead. That thought cut through the pain with startling clarity. While she and Caidrik were by no means a sure thing, she knew one thing with absolute certainty. He would not take kindly to anyone hitting a woman.
“I see why your brother hates you,” she muttered.
Bulwark threw his head back and laughed, the sound bouncing strangely off the stone. “That’s not why he hates me.” He stepped closer, his headlamp flaring directly into her eyes, blinding her for a moment. “He hates me because I stole his girlfriend.”
“Yeah. Right.”
He smiled thinly. “Her name was Carrie. She was exactly his type. Six feet tall. Long black hair. Light-colored eyes.” His tone turned casual, almost bored. “We grew up together. All three of us. I think he thought he owned her.” He leaned back against the wall. “Turns out I did.”
Her stomach twisted. “You mean you—”
“Well, no,” he said lazily. “I fucked the shit out of her a few times. She got knocked up. Wanted to get married. Wanted to get mated. I wasn’t ready.” He shrugged one shoulder.
Nadia’s jaw dropped. “That’s… terrible. What happened to her?”
Bulwark looked away briefly, then back. “Apparently, she had mental problems. She killed herself.”
The words landed heavy in the stale air.
He turned, sweeping his light across the stone until it caught on two openings in the rock ahead. Both tunnels were narrow. Both vanished into black. “Which way?” he asked. “Left or right?”
“That’s it?” Nadia snapped. “You talk about a woman you both cared about killing herself, and you want to know which way to go?”
Bulwark’s expression hardened. “Like I said, she made her choice.”
“Man,” Nadia said, her voice shaking with fury now, “I hope he kills you.”
Bulwark snorted. “He has that in him, that’s for sure.” He stepped toward the right-hand tunnel. “You think I’m a killer?” he went on. “That guy was a mercenary for decades. Decades. He kills easily, but I’m better. He won’t get to me.”
Caidrik killed easily? She didn’t believe that. “I bet he never knifed anybody in the back.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Bulwark muttered. He moved decisively toward the right-hand passage. “We’re going this way.”
Nadia hesitated, casting one last look over her shoulder at the tunnel they’d come from. It felt farther away than it should’ve been, the darkness already swallowing the path behind them.
She turned and followed.
For the first time since this nightmare started, she was glad this fight was to the death.
Because Bulwark McGregor really needed to die.
She comforted herself with the thought just as he turned and started to drill, taking several samples and studying them.
Finally, he stood. “Got it.” He handed a long sample to her. “Put that in your backpack, and I’ll bring the others.”
“Good.” She turned and shoved it into her pack. Taking a deep breath, ready to get away from Bulwark, she pivoted and headed back toward the way they’d come, just as a loud pop echoed throughout the entire tunnel. The earth started to rumble. Her legs shook. “What—”
The ceiling dropped in massive sheets of slate. Yelping, she ducked, covering her head with her arms.