Chapter 59
Easton
I lean against the wall with my arms crossed, watching as Khal stretches out on the couch and drifts off to sleep.
The rest of us stay alert, our attention fixed on Feray as she paces restlessly across the room.
There's an anxious energy radiating from her that sets my teeth on edge.
The idea of not being able to shift is clearly gnawing at her, visible in the way her fingers twitch and her body coils tight like a spring about to snap.
"My flame," I say softly, "why don't you shift now and let her out?
Maybe both of you will settle down some. "
Her expression shifts through a storm of emotions, narrowing then softening before her eyes suddenly flash ice blue. A decision made in that split second, and I barely have time to brace myself before the pressure in the room builds thick and tangible as her body trembles.
Then, with a quick breath, she shifts. The change happens so fast that the air itself seems to tighten around us.
For a heartbeat, everything feels dense and charged, my lungs constricting and my pulse kicking up until—pop—the pressure breaks as her wolf form solidifies.
There's something electric about the transformation, something I've never quite been able to put my finger on, but it must be unique to winter wolves.
Her wolf pads over to me, and I'm taken aback by how massive she's become. Her head nearly reaches my shoulder, thick fur rippling with each powerful step she takes. I stare at her for a moment, sizing her up, before letting out a low chuckle.
"I could probably slap a saddle on your back and ride you like a horse," I joke, reaching out to brush my hand through the thick fur at her neck.
Her laughter fills my head, warm and amused. Use the chair and climb on. I'm curious if I can support your weight—between you and Khal, you're the lightest built out of my mates.
"I know that look," Torben rumbles as he steps closer, his presence heavy in the room as always. "What did our mate say to you?"
I drag the chair closer to her, my grin widening. "She thinks she can carry either me or Khal if we ever need to get out of somewhere fast."
Torben's brow furrows in disbelief as his gaze flicks between me and Feray. "You can fly..."
"That's true, but Khal can't, and if either of us can't shift for whatever reason, this would be good to know.
" I throw caution to the wind and swing a leg over Feray's back, settling just behind her shoulders with her soft, thick fur beneath my fingers as I grip the scruff of her neck.
She starts walking with slow, deliberate steps, and I rock slightly from side to side with each one.
"It's not too hard to hold on," I admit, though the motion feels anything but graceful. "But probably not ideal."
Just as I slide off her back, the door creaks open and Diaval strolls in with a smirk playing on his lips as his gaze flickers over me. "You do realize the important bits are under her tail, not on her shoulders, right, old man?"
I shake my head, rolling my eyes at him. Diaval, of all people, being a wiseass. "Feray wanted to see if, in an emergency, she could carry either Khal or me. Since Khal needs a nap to drive all night, I gave it a go."
Turning my attention back to Feray, I can't ignore the anxious energy that clings to her like static before a storm.
Her pacing grows more frantic with each passing minute, paws leaving faint impressions on the worn floor as she circles the room over and over again.
My gut twists as I watch her, helpless as her anxiety bleeds into mine and the room seems to shrink with every lap she takes.
"Being unable to shift is not going to sit well with her for this length of time," I murmur, "especially being trapped in the car until we hit Briarvale." Whatever's happening behind the scenes, I hate that it's making her suffer.
Feray has been curled up in her wolf form for about an hour now, the soft rise and fall of her breath barely noticeable in the dim light.
But I know her well enough to recognize the signs—the idea of being trapped for so long is grating on her nerves, and even in sleep, she twitches every now and then like she's ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.
The tension in the air has become suffocating, and I can't shake the feeling that something's coming. I feel it in my bones, a dark premonition that makes my phoenix stir restlessly in the back of my consciousness.
"What are we going to do?" I ask, turning to Diaval where he's watching our mate with that same intense, thoughtful look he always has when things go south.
"I'm not sure," he replies, fingers absentmindedly stroking his short beard as he contemplates the situation. "They didn't specify the size of the wolf they were looking for, so it's possible they only caught sight of one of her pack mates." It's thin hope, and we both know it.
Torben strides back in, breaking the tense silence as he holds out several scarves with a grim expression.
"For now, we need to take every precaution.
" There's an edge to his voice, something raw and barely contained.
"I want to wrap Feray's hair in one of these—it's too unique, too recognizable.
" He hesitates, glancing down as if weighed by something heavier than the scarves in his hands.
"Her hair is from her mother's bloodline.
They'll know exactly who she is the moment they see it. "
His bear's eyes flash as guilt gnaws visibly at him.
"It's probably why the mages and witches targeted her so viciously.
The herbs, the toxins... they were designed to kill her.
" His voice breaks, the pain in his face mirroring my own as the weight of his words settles over us.
"Everything was calculated. They wanted her dead before she ever became what she is now. "
Diaval and I exchange a look, a silent agreement passing between us as we acknowledge what we've been wrestling with in secret for weeks. "We came to the same conclusion," I say, my voice low and barely keeping the anger from bubbling over. "Everything that was done to her was intentional."
"They've been hunting her since before she was born," Diaval adds, his voice rumbling with barely contained fury.
The hairs on Feray's wolf bristle in response to our words, and in an instant, she's awake—hackles raised, head lowered, teeth bared with no hesitation as she prowls toward the door with deadly intent.
Her gaze is fixed on the entrance, eyes glowing ice blue as I hear the deep inhales while she sniffs the space between the door and frame.
Frost spreads from where her breath hits the wood, and the temperature plummets so fast that my own breath fogs in the suddenly frigid air.
She's ready for a fight, and whatever she's sensing is close—far too close for comfort.
I reach over and shake Khal awake, watching as he blinks once before grogginess instantly gives way to sharp focus.
Without a word, I hand him his sunglasses, and he slips them on with practiced ease, nodding as he slides smoothly into position beside Feray.
The faint shimmer of scales spreading across his neck tells me he's armoring up, and I can only assume the rest of his body is shielded as well.
When Khal leans in close to whisper something to Feray, whatever he says makes her tense before she moves swiftly behind the door, her footsteps barely a whisper on the cold floor.
Every nerve in my body tingles with the weight of unseen danger as I cup my hand and summon the heat of my phoenix, feeling the familiar burn as flames pulse in my palm, ready to launch at whatever waits on the other side.
The air grows thick with tension, palpable and electric, and I can taste the threat like a metallic tang sticking to the back of my throat. The wrongness of it crawls over my skin like ants, confirming what I already know—they found us. Somehow, impossibly, they found us.
Khal lifts his hand toward the doorknob, fingers curling with deliberate slowness as he silently counts down.
Three. Two. One.
In a single fluid motion, his right hand pulls off the sunglasses while his left twists the knob, flinging the door open with a force that reverberates through the room.
Time seems to slow as the door slams against the wall with a bang that echoes like a gunshot, and my pulse hammers against my ribs as Feray's icy blue eyes cut through the dim light like glowing beacons.
Her breath escapes in a frost-laden exhale that hangs in the air like a misty threat, and beside her, Khal moves with his usual deadly grace, his eyes gleaming faint silver in the low light.
The man standing before them has been frozen mid-step, turned to stone in the instant before he could strike.
His hand remains suspended mid-gesture, holding a flickering ball of magic that disintegrates into nothingness like dust in the wind.
Time itself has seized him, trapping him forever in the moment he realized he'd picked the wrong target.
My grip tightens as fire flickers hotter in my palm, eager to unleash itself.
They keep coming for her, and each time, the rage simmers a little closer to the surface until I can barely control the heat rolling under my skin.
How many more have they sent? How many more will they sacrifice in their futile attempts to capture her?
Khal's eyes flicker as he scans the hallway, his gaze cold and calculating. "All clear," he murmurs, but his voice carries no relief—we both know this is just the beginning.
Torben doesn't wait for further instruction.
With a quick nod from Khal, he steps forward, his massive form dwarfing the frozen mage as he effortlessly grabs the statue and pulls it into the room as if it weighs nothing.
I watch the eerie stillness of the mage's face, frozen in fear, and feel no satisfaction—only the grim certainty that more will follow.
The air feels thick and charged with the remnants of dark magic, the wrongness of it coating my tongue like ash. This isn't over. They'll send more—they always do. And next time, I don't think I'll be able to hold the fire back.
"We need to leave. Now."
Khal shuts the door, but his phone immediately erupts in a frenzy of notifications. He stares down at the screen with his brow furrowing before nodding slowly, his eyes turning cold as winter steel.
"The mages are moving, but not the witches.
They want to control the spirit of winter.
" His gaze shifts to Feray, and I feel the weight of it, the unspoken truth settling over us like a shroud.
It's her they want—it's always been her.
The spirit of winter. The last winter wolf. A weapon they think they can control.
Feray growls, the sound raw and fierce as she shifts back to her human form with her eyes remaining that same ice-blue, burning with the same intensity as her wolf's.
The scar on the left side of her face catches the light, now shimmering silver from her hairline to her jaw, and she's never looked more dangerous or more untouchable as she stares each of us down with a fury that burns colder than anything I could ever conjure.
"I am no one's prey. Not anymore. Never again. "
My chest swells with pride because I've never been more in awe of her than I am in this moment. "We'll burn the world to ash if we have to," I say, fist-bumping Diaval as the fire in me continues to simmer, hungry for release.
Khal smirks as he leans casually on the petrified mage. "Consider your sculpture garden started, Precious."
Torben cracks his knuckles, a feral smile creeping across his face as something darker surfaces in him—something that's been lurking beneath his calm exterior, finally unleashed.
"I'll tear apart anything that tries to touch you," he growls, and for the first time, I truly see him as the predator he is.
We're ready for whatever comes next.
We'll destroy anyone who comes for her.
And may the gods have mercy on those who try—because we won't.