Chapter 15 - Damian #2
What if Aoife was wrong?
The warriors gather behind me, equally stunned into silence.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Connor murmurs through the mind link. “I thought Aoife knew what she was doing.”
Flynn’s voice comes through next. “She knows what she’s doing,” he defends the witch. “This could be a trap.”
Dorian shakes his dark wolf head. “Jackson abandoned this place months ago,” he says, pacing slowly across the cracked concrete. “Why would anyone come back?”
My ears flatten against my head as I survey the building.
“This isn’t the rogues,” Flynn growls lowly. “The corruption in Fort Smit…the witches…none of it matches what Jackson was capable of.”
Their words barely register, because I don’t care who is responsible.
I don’t care why they’re here.
All I care about is that Poppy is inside.
Her scent pours from the warehouse entrance so strongly that it smothers everything else, wrapping itself around my senses until it becomes impossible to think about anything but reaching her.
Without waiting for a signal, or for anyone else to move, I launch myself toward the entrance, my shoulder crashing through the warped wooden door with enough force to send splintered timber exploding across the warehouse floor.
The stale air inside assaults my senses, my nostrils flaring. Dust. Blood. Decay.
But beneath it all is the one scent that can weaken me.
Poppy.
“Poppy!” I roar through the mind link, sprinting deeper into the darkness.
The cavernous warehouse is nothing like I remember it.
Where the smell of rogue wolves once occupied the building, strange symbols have been carved into the concrete pillars, black candles melted into uneven puddles across the floor, and thick vines of corruption creep over the walls like living veins.
Then I see her, standing perfectly still in the center of the warehouse.
“Poppy...” I breathe as relief crashes through me so violently my knees almost give way.
She’s alive.
Her back is toward me, shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths, long blonde hair hanging in tangled waves down her back.
I take a cautious step forward.
“Poppy…” I call out when I shift into human form, wanting nothing more than to wrap my arms around her.
She slowly turns around, and my heart nearly stops.
Her eyes...
They’re no longer hazel.
They burn a deep, unnatural crimson so vivid they almost glow against the paleness of her face. Thin rivers of blood trickle from the corners of both eyes, streaking down her cheeks as though she’s been crying blood.
Her chest heaves violently, every breath sounding painful, every inhale trembling.
She stares at me for several agonizing seconds before her lips part.
“Damian…” she whispers, her voice strained, shaking beneath an effort I don’t understand.
Hope flares inside my chest. Has she found Daniel?
“I’m here,” I say softly, taking another careful step toward her. “We’re getting you out of here.”
She shakes her head slowly. “No…” she whimpers, another tear of blood trailing down her cheek. “Take Daniel”—her breathing catches, and she stops to gulp—”and go.”
Confusion crashes into me, and I frown. “What?”
Her face twists in agony, her body trembling harder now as though she’s fighting against something invisible. “Please…” she cries, clutching at her head. “Take him…and…run…leave without me…”
“Poppy, what’s wrong? What’s happening to you?”
A scream rips from her throat, but it doesn’t sound like fear. It sounds tormented, full of unbearable pain.
Her body buckles violently before bones begin cracking beneath her skin.
“No…” I whisper, horror creeping through every fiber of my being.
She collapses onto her hands and knees as the shift overtakes her with brutal force, far more violent than any natural transformation I’ve ever witnessed.
Limbs twist at impossible angles. Her spine arches grotesquely.
Every snap of bone echoes through the warehouse until white fur bursts through her skin.
But this isn’t Poppy.
The wolf standing before me bears only fragments of the mate I know.
Her joints bend unnaturally, as though they were forced together incorrectly.
Thick, black veins pulse beneath patches of matted white fur.
Her muzzle is elongated beyond what should be possible, jagged teeth protruding from swollen gums while blood-red eyes lock onto mine with a mixture of rage and terror.
She looks like Jackson did before Dorian killed him. Like every rogue wolf I’ve ever fought.
But worse.
My heart shatters, and I shake my head slowly. “No…”
The other wolves burst into the warehouse behind me just as the monstrous wolf lets out a guttural snarl that barely resembles anything natural.
“Rogue!” one of the warriors bellows through the mind link.
I shift before anyone can react, fur replacing flesh as I throw myself between them and Poppy, peeling my lips back and growling.
“Stop!” I roar, glaring at every warrior in the room. “Don’t touch her!”
Dorian skids to a halt beside Flynn, disbelief written across both their faces.
“Damian—”
“That’s Poppy!” I shout, refusing to move. “Something’s wrong with her! Don’t attack!”
The monstrous wolf lets out a tortured whine behind me.
My mate. She’s still in there. I know she is.
“We can save her,” I breathe through the mind link, more to myself than anyone else. “We have to—”
Something heavy crashes against the back of my skull and pain explodes through my head.
The warehouse spins violently as my knees buckle beneath me, my vision swimming while distant shouts echo around the room.
The last thing I see before darkness claims me is Poppy’s blood-red eyes fixed on mine, filled with desperate apology, before everything disappears.