Chapter 23 Xerxes
Xerxes
“Where are they taking her?” I asked my handler, keeping my eyes locked on the space where she’d disappeared.
Anger thrummed dangerously in my veins. Seeing her trapped in that cage was one thing. It meant she couldn’t be touched by the hands of these traitors. But the chains…they were something else. They made my Primal feral, desperate to free her.
I was at war with my beast, trying to keep him contained.
And watching her be paraded through a crowd of males was not helping me win this internal battle.
“None of our fucking business,” he replied, voice sharp. “We have orders. Let’s go.”
I couldn’t fight him, but I also struggled to tear my gaze from the closed doors.
Handler grabbed me by the arm, his hold firm. Whatever magic he wielded filled the air between us. “Let’s. Go.”
Finally, I looked away from the metal doors, teeth gritted. “Fine.”
Handler didn’t release me; instead, he pulled me away from the mass of soldiers, dragged me towards the prison of shifters, and entered his code into the box by the door.
From the corner of my eye, I watched him do it.
The sequence was burned into my brain. I wasn’t allowed a code, and Handler never bothered to cover it like the others normally did.
I doubted he was worried I would steal it. He probably thought I was docile, under his false king’s control.
“Three,” a male nearby whispered to a younger female. “You’re in group seven. You’ll be there, don’t fucking worry.”
The female hissed. “I want to see her go down, Ralph. And I want my man back.”
The male rolled his eyes dramatically. “He’s not yours.”
“He will be.” She slammed her finger into his chest. “Just you wait and see.”
“Go to training and keep your trap shut about the blood moon, okay? Don’t say shit to anyone.” The male turned on his heel, stalking away before she could respond.
Handler tightened his grip on my upper arm as the doors opened.
When we entered the prison, he finally released me with a sigh.
Handler barely looked at me as he descended into the maze of cages, muttering something under his breath.
I followed without a word, locking the rage away—and those ominous words.
I had no idea who Ralph or the female was, but she clearly didn’t like my fated. And there was something happening in three, though that could be hours, days, weeks.
I blinked hard, trying to refocus, but couldn’t. Down here, I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than her. Even gone, her scent was imprinted on the prison. It shouldn’t have been so potent, but it was. And somehow, it only made the anger worse.
Handler moved through the cages with an ease I couldn’t replicate. Each step felt heavy, weighed down by the distance growing between me and my fated. I’d failed her by not helping, though I had no idea what I could have done, other than cut down her guards and try to escape with her.
There had been too many soldiers for that, and we still had no way to escape.
My handler came to a stop before nine prisoners. None were shifted, but I could tell they were different. I’d noticed them the last time I’d been here, but Handler hadn’t told me why they were in a cage.
“King Dante wants the charm mage,” Handler said, reaching for a bar. A light flared on his palm as the door opened. “Let’s go.”
The males shared looks of concern and anger. “Why?” one asked. He smelled different, of smoke and blood, and he had silver-white hair that fell into his eyes.
Handler growled, entering the cage. His hand strayed to the weapon on his side. “Charm mage. Now.”
“No,” one of the others said, his voice deep. The skin of his arms rippled as if he were about to shift, though nothing happened. “You aren’t taking any of us.”
“None of you have a choice,” Handler replied, pulling his weapon free. “I’ve been given permission to use whatever force necessary to get him out. I won’t hesitate to put a bullet in any one of you.”
They were not going to give in, not even with the threat of violence.
I could tell that, and I was certain Handler could, too.
But I also knew he wouldn’t hesitate. He might not have been under the dark control of the false king, but he still listened to orders, did what he was told.
He wanted to be here, wanted to be a soldier, and he wanted to rise in the ranks.
It didn’t matter how he did it. He was proud of his stand.
The males before us were nothing to him. But I’d seen them watching my fated the last time I was here. They knew her, not just as their Queen, but as someone else.
“The King has news about your son, charm mage. Don’t you want to know what your little Adrian is up to?” Handler goaded, taking another step into the cell. “Especially after what happened to him in the Old World?”
One of the males tensed, eyes darkening. He looked somewhat familiar, though it wasn’t him that had me turning to my handler.
It was the name. Adrian. I knew who that was, because I’d heard the name used for one of my fated’s other mates. The weak one, I’d thought of him. His magic had been leaking from him, and it was partly because he couldn’t protect our mate that she was in a cage in the first place.
I breathed in deeply, releasing it without a word. Why was the weak one’s father here? Who was he, and why did the false king want him?
I gritted my teeth to keep myself from asking. I also didn’t point out that the false king had taken Ivy, so it seemed strange that he would also want the unknown male.
Handler would tell me it wasn’t my place to question, and he would be right. But silently, I made note of the strangeness as the male—the charm mage—finally stood and was placed in magic dampening cuffs. The charm mage pressed his lips together, flinching when the cuffs clicked into place.
“Hold him,” Handler grunted, turning away from me and the mage.
He stood at the same height as me, so we were almost eye to eye. “What are you?” the charm mage asked, his brows furrowing. “You aren’t anything I have seen before.”
I stiffened. “I am not one of you.”
The male’s eyes flickered from mine, down to my chest where the small female had pressed her charm into me. “I see.”
I frowned, but Handler appeared on the charm mage’s other side and grabbed him by the arm. “Stop talking to the prisoner,” he snapped, looking at me, then at the mage. “And don’t speak unless spoken to.”
The mage made a sound in the back of his throat as we took him to the inner elevator. No more words were shared, making the silence unbearably thick.
As the doors to the elevator closed, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. The sensation that something was wrong filled me, alerting my Primal.
From the corner of my eye, I looked to my handler. He was either unaware of the shift in the air, or he knew something was about to happen.
The elevator carried us to the medical wing; the doors opened with a ding, revealing the stark white walls and the buzzing white light of the corridor. The few doors lining the hallway were closed, with no way to see inside.
A chill rolled down my spine. I felt my fated nearby; it was faint, but her scent still hung in the air like she’d been here only moments ago.
Why would the false king bring her here? Why would she need to be seen by the medical team?
Handler started down the hall, and I was forced to follow with our prisoner. I couldn’t ignore the strange feeling that rippled throughout me as Handler stopped in front of one of the doors. Here, her scent was thicker.
Why were we bringing the prisoner to her?
Everything about this felt wrong. My Primal was now close to the surface, raging with the need to be released.
Handler used a different code this time to enter the medical room. When the door opened, I couldn’t remain in control of my beast.
Because lying on a bed in the centre of the room was my unconscious fated, and she was not alone.