Chapter 31
Morgan
Sylvan’s body thumps against the floor.
My ears ring from the gunshot. I lunge for Sylvan, throwing my body over his to protect him, but it’s too late. What is happening? My head spins, panic settling into my bones as I cup his face.
Sylvan closes his hand around my wrist, his voice broken in my mind. Run. Run, Morgan.
I can’t leave him, but he shoves me back.
You don’t protect me, I protect you. Run.
It’s a command.
My vision blurs with tears as I jump to my feet, facing Verena as she fills the doorway. The door starts to swing shut, but she throws her hand up, stopping it.
Shadows fill the room, growing and stretching just like they did in the forest on our first full moon together. A force surrounds me, binding me in place before I can run.
Sylvan groans, his hand clutching his heart. He tries to sit up, but only manages it for a moment.
I have to get the bullet out of him. I have to move. I scream, but it’s silenced. Blood pools around his body as breaths rattle in his lungs, his expression warped with pain.
“Let him go,” I beg. “Let him go. Please. Please. Take me. You can take me, but leave my mate alone. Please.”
Morgan, no. Fight it. You’re strong enough to break her magic.
I’m not, though. I’m not a witch like she is.
You’re strong enough. You can break her. The strength of his voice starts to fade. You’re stronger than they ever dreamed, Morgan. I swear to you they lied. They’ve always lied. I’ve seen your magic.
“Sylvan,” I rasp.
His eyes close as he drags in another breath, but they’re fewer and farther between.
“Let me heal him,” I say. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want, Verena.”
Verena steps inside, her expression smooth like a mask. She pulls her hair back into a bun and I swear she’s changed outfits since I saw her. Hell, maybe she’s changed personalities. Souls. Her eyes are darker than should be possible, and they glimmer with malice.
“He’s so incredibly annoying,” Verena sighs, nudging Sylvan with the tip of her shoe. She’s still holding the gun, smoke curling from the end. “They only had one bullet left, so be glad I aimed for the heart and not the head. He’ll die slowly, but at least he can tell you goodbye.”
This isn’t the witch I’ve known for ten years. This isn’t the woman who nursed me when I was sick or bought me groceries or celebrated my birthday.
“Who are you?”
She flashes me an annoyed look. “The same witch you’ve always known.
We’ve just been waiting for you to come back to the Ridge.
It shouldn’t have taken this long for me to get you, but we’ve been a little busy.
Those creatures should have taken you, but .
. . Well, I’m still not sure how you survived that.
Sylvan was shot, right? Maybe you do have some magic in there after all. ”
My head spins as I stare down at Sylvan, a sob shaking me. Sylvan, I beg through our bond. He’s not answering.
Verena’s fingers flex, and my muscles tighten again.
“You’re so wiggly,” she says. “Like a fish on a hook.”
“Please save him,” I beg. “Please. I know you can heal. I’ve seen your magic—”
“You don’t know my magic, Morgan. You never have. But you will.”
The smile that traces her lips sends a bolt of fear through me.
More blood seeps into the wooden floors. I writhe against the magic suppressing me, fighting as hard as I can. He needs me. He can’t die. Sylvan isn’t allowed to die. This can’t be happening.
Sylvan! Sylvan! I’m screaming through our bond, but he’s not responding. I suck in a breath as my body is yanked forward, my shoes dragged through his blood as Verena draws me across the room to the doorway. Fear ices my veins when she closes her hand around my throat.
“Keep in mind you’re lucky,” she whispers. “You never mated with him, and so you won’t feel his agony. And he’ll be too dead to feel yours. Consider it a blessing from the goddess herself.”
“You were my best friend,” I cry out. “My best friend. I trusted you. I loved you. We’ve known each other for ten years. Why would you do this? Why now?”
“Because you’re important to the cause,” she says.
“Good plans take time. And now that your alpha is dead, I can use that link to siphon the last bit of magic from the Foxglove bloodline we need. Maeve didn’t work, unfortunately.
I think rejecting her fated mate made her that way. But you’re exactly what we need.”
I’m still shouting his name through our bond, reaching for him. Pulling at the link.
I can feel him. His presence feathers around the edges of my consciousness, and he's not gone. While I cannot hear his heart beating, I know he's not gone. I need him to live. I need him to survive this, and I would give anything to make sure that he does.
Verena knots her fingers in my top and drags me out of the room, using her magic to lead me down the hall and down the steps. Blood tracks beneath me, his blood. My mate’s blood.
He has to live. I close my eyes, focusing on him and him alone. She clearly thinks he's gone, but he's not.
Live. You have to live.
Even if I die, he has to live.
“You should've listened to your house,” she says.
“It was trying to warn you, although I don't think that it'll be bothering you very much anymore.
I finally figured out what the spirit is, and with a little spell, it'll be asleep for a while.
Sylvan will die here, and no one will even miss him.
I don't think anyone will miss you either, Morgan.
Do you know how much this town hates you? It's kind of impressive.”
I ignore her rambling and continue to focus on him.
I imagine the wound in his chest, envisioning the bullet that's there.
Using every ounce of magic I have, which is not much, I envision the bullet sliding back to the surface, pulling its way out of his body without causing any more damage.
Sweat burst on my skin, and she's still talking.
She's gloating, I realize. She thinks that she has won everything.
Until that bullet is out of his chest, I can't even begin to think about how fucking wrong this is.
I suck in a breath right as I imagine the bullet falling out. I almost hear it, clattering to the floor, sinking into the blood. In my mind, Sylvan’s body immediately shifts into a werewolf, but his heart is still beating.
He's still alive.
My eyes fly open as she takes us outside. There's a car already waiting, and I know that the moment they put me in it, there’s no escaping.
I recognize a familiar face. My stomach turns as I meet the eyes of Cassandra.
She holds it for a second and then looks away. Her cheeks are red, her shoulders stiff, and she looks disheveled. There’s a bruise on her cheek. Standing next to her is her father, and he looks all too pleased.
“The final Foxglove,” he says. “And the only omega, too. I think the goddess is on our side.”
This is really bad. I continue to glare at Cassandra as the door opens, and I'm shoved inside. I guess part of me expected them to be magical enough to at least whisk me away on a fucking broom, but no. Apparently not in the 21st century.
Cassandra gets into the seat next to me, and Verena takes the one to my right. Her magic is still constricting me like a python.
I wish I had Foxglove magic, because they would both be dead right now. All I want to do is get back to my mate, but that's not going to happen. I continue to strain against the invisible binds around me, pushing and prodding until I'm breathing hard.
The engine starts up, and someone puts a bag over my head. I let out a dark laugh, and finally relax.
“I hope you know what you're doing,” I say. “When he wakes up, he's going to kill all of you.”
“Your mate is dead, Morgan. No one is going to rescue you.”
She's wrong. She's so wrong. I feel Cassandra stiffen next to me, and I decide to make one more jab, knowing it will probably end up with me knocked out.
“How does it feel?” I whisper. “To grow up to be the kind of witch you and I used to swear we hated?”
I'm met with silence.
But then comes the darkness.