Chapter 39 Silas
I already know this plan is going to shit before we even start, but no fucking way am I backing out now. I won't let Lily either. This is it. She's not pregnant, they have no reason to keep her alive.
And I can't stay here one more day. One more minute.
Tracy, the seer, has left the compound. I overheard them yesterday. Tracy didn't see me or Lily in her visions, but she saw Mona. Nothing more specific than that, though. Enough to put them on alert.
The pain fuels me as I saw through the silver bars with my claws. It nearly burns them clean off before my skin regenerates. Lily offers to help, but I refuse. She'll need all her strength against Deidre.
Once I cut through the bars around the lock, my hands are mangled and bloody. They fucking ache, but are healing, pushing the silver out of my bloodstream. More scars. The wolf silhouette on my hand looks more like a cat. It's fine.
No matter how much the magic rakes at my insides with every step outside our cage, as I push through the sludge of magic as it yearns to hold me back, I keep moving.
The height of the full moon is close. And some new fucking witch reinforced the walls this morning, someone I've never met before. Which means I'm not immune to his magic. But he made a mistake—even though it hurts, I'm able to push through his shields. They're weak.
Up the stairs, we pause at the door.
Lily whispers, "I think they're all outside."
"Be quiet while I listen," I hiss.
She huffs and rolls her eyes at me, and I appreciate that I don't intimidate her anymore, but don't say so. She's become a little bit like a bratty sister.
The full moon is a night of regeneration for the witches. They worship the Moon Goddess just as much as wolves do. More, even, and spend each full moon when she's closest to us, when the veil is thinnest, refueling their magics.
None of the witches would miss that to babysit a couple of useless, spelled wolves like Lily and me, so we should be largely ignored for the night.
Still, at the top of the stairs, we listen. And we wait.
The house is huge, but long, rectangular. A network of halls and dead ends. Lily doesn't know the house like I do, but she memorized a map I drew in the dirty stone with my bloody finger, so she knows where to go when we have to separate.
But I will keep her with me as long as I can. When the silence stretches, and the full moon is ten minutes from its highest point—when I hear Pierre open the back door near the greenhouse, we press on to the main floor.
The magic is less clawing up here, there are no barriers to break through.
The biggest obstacle will be the one surrounding the house, but I'll save that worry for later.
Another thing I didn't tell Lily—I don't have much of a plan for that.
It should fall when Deidre dies, but if I don't manage to kill her…
"You got rid of her?" Pierre says on the phone.
The man on the other line says gruffly, "Threw her into the woods before I hit the border. I'm an hour from the safe house now."
"But did you kill her?" Pierre asks through gritted teeth.
"Look, what do you want me to say? An alpha that powerful—the chains fall off and I'm a dead man. I got rid of her. She doesn't know where the safe house is, we lost her back in the States. She's not following us this far, don't matter how good her senses are."
I can practically feel Pierre's frustration, which makes me grin. Whatever inconvenience, minor or colossal, whatever grates on Pierre's psyche, I fucking savor. "So, no, you did not kill her."
"Look, I got the omega. That was the plan, right? Job well done then. I'll expect payment in my account before I leave here. And don't even think about screwing me on this, or I'll just kill the girl and be done with it."
Fingers tapping. Huffs, more heavy sighs. Then, "There, payment sent. But do not leave until we arrive. Deidre has spent over twenty years preparing for this. You have no idea how much money and time has gone into this girl."
My teeth grind when I think about Mona's pseudo-father. Paulie fucking Gresser. I wish I could kill him again. He'd been working for Deidre her entire life. She's been all alone. And now she is again.
Where is Grayson? And Orion? Are they dead?
What could have pulled them from their mate to allow her to get captured?
Pierre and the witch finish their conversation, and while he's distracted, with the moon's power drawing closer, we creep down the hall. When we come to the crossroads, I lean into Lily's ear.
"Remember. Down that hall, to the left. She has magic, she can sense when you're close. But she can't hear or smell you, not like we can. If you're quick—"
"I know. I can do this. Kill her if the opportunity arises, otherwise, just get your blood off her neck, then run back to you."
I grip her shoulder. "That's right. In and out. Be quick. Be decisive."
Lily's eyes water, and I wish there was more I could say or do, but… Instead, I grunt, "Don't get killed. You'll get out of here. I promise."
"We both will," she smiles, and it's so genuine, it feels like a stab in my heart.
Because, as it turns out, I'm not going anywhere.
It's resignation, I feel. Not panic or worry that I'll be trapped here longer, or what Deidre can do to me.
No.
They have my fucking omega.
And now, nothing else matters. Not me, not my freedom.
The plan remains the same. Mostly. I follow the hallway down until I scent Pierre. He's talking to himself under his breath. Giving himself a pep talk, readying himself to gather his mistress.
Pierre doesn't have the power to control blood magic. And he isn't prepared with herbs to spell me. I would be able to scent them. So when I turn the corner and find him staring at his hands, my lips turn up into a violent grin.
"Hello, lover."
His head snaps up. I wait—only a single beat. And that's all the warning he gets.
It's not even for his benefit. I just really needed him to feel that moment of panic before I tear him to shreds.
His hands go up in a protective gesture, but I half shift, my claws now healed from cutting through the silver bars downstairs. I slice through his hands, a finger or two falling off. He screams.
"What—how—" he stutters and cries, falling, before finally fighting back. He grabs a pair of pruning shears off the table and stabs the air with them. But it's messy and slipping out of his bloody hand, which is almost a stump.
"You're not going anywhere, Silas," he sneers. His eyes are wild, hands shaking from blood loss. "Now, if you're a very good boy and—"
I reach out and snatch his wrist. As much as I don't want to touch him, I want to hear him even less. I'm in control right now. I kick the back of his knee, and he bellows out.
Sounds erupt from their gathering circle outside. And—impossibly—
Grayson?
My brother, my twin. And Orion—I can scent them. Goosebumps erupt along my arms. They're here. They're actually here.
But then I remember Mona isn't. What the fuck was Grayson thinking? Our mate has been captured, that fucking idiot!
I punch Pierre in the sternum, hard enough to hear the bones crack. Witches have a lot of power, but only if yielded a certain way. A wolf—our power may be less esoteric, but in my opinion, far more handy.
Like now—I hit him with enough force that I know it would take magical intervention to heal—a doctor and several weeks, at least. He doesn't heal like a shifter.
I wish I had more time. I wish I could drag this out.
We ignore the war going on outside the door.
"Where is she?" I ask.
"Who?" he sputters, blood spilling from his lips.
I transform my hand into claws and stab him in the stomach.
I wonder what this feels like—I twist my fingers, rooting around his intestines, and I yank.
Gently at first. Don't want him dying too fast on me.
He screams, and it's visceral—literally—and all I do is laugh. "Where is the omega?" I ask again calmly.
"Fuuu—ahhhh!" he cries. It sounds like he's in real distress. "Ahhh! Stop, stop, please!"
I yank again. It's getting messy, slippery. Judging by the smell, I perforated his bowels.
"The omega!" I scream, hissing and spitting in his face. "Where did they take her!"
And even though he's dying. Even though he must be in agony—he smiles. Blood coats his teeth. He laughs, but it's choked and wet. "Deidre was right. She's—she's—"
He coughs again. Fuck. He's too far gone. Plan B, I guess. Or, at this point, Plan E or whatever. We're way off track.
I pull my other hand back, ready to swipe. Blood spills from his lips, the sulfuric scent of the dying witch puffing out of him in steady bursts. A whisper on his lips, crackling and indecipherable.
I want to kill him. I want to get away from him.
I lean closer.
"Where is she?" I ask again.
"You—you—" he rasps. And then he looks up at me, into my eyes. "Silas, you were the best I ever had."
Disgust and fury rush through me. I slice his throat, digging my fingers inside his neck, wrapping my claws around his spinal cord—and, with a foot stomped directly on his crotch to hold him in place, shuddering against the wet crunch of his balls beneath my foot—I yank out his spinal cord.
The long thing whips out as I tear his body in half. And it's not nearly as satisfying as I'd hoped. I'd have taken days with him if I could have. I wouldn't have done to him what he did to my body—no, I'd have invented new ways to torture, belittle and shame him.
But I just don't have time.
I'm covered in Pierre's blood. It cools quickly, and it feels something like battle armor as I turn away from the greenhouse and head down the hall. But when I pass the kitchen, I see him.
The new witch. The one who sucks at shields.
He doesn't react when he sees me.
I'm drenched in blood, and this stoic motherfucker just stares.
I should kill him. He keeps staring. Small, dark skin, black hair, and golden eyes, so bright they're nearly yellow. He's unsettling—which is saying something, considering I'm wearing bits of someone else's blood and guts.
Something in his face twitches, and I take a deep inhale. Maybe my senses are off, too much blood coating my nostrils, but I can't smell him.
He's hiding himself.
A scream down the hall pulls my attention.
I spare him one last glance before I turn and run toward Lily.
When I get to Deidre's room at the end of the hall, they're fighting. Lily has her pinned, she's in wolf form, just like we planned.
But Deidre—fucking Deidre, she pulls a silver dagger from her dress pocket.
And just as Lily's claws swipe at Deidre's neck—enough to draw blood, and it's physical relief when the vial of my blood falls off Deidre's neck—the dagger swipes into Lily. It cuts across her shoulder, then through her neck.
Her wolf lets out a yelp, but it disappears as Deidre slices her throat wide open.
"No!" I roar. "No, fuck! No!" I rage, jumping between them. The vial falls to the ground, and the glass shatters. My hands wrap around Lily's neck to hold the blood in.
She'll live. She has to live.
I turn to Deidre. Her face cuts into a nasty smile. I release Lily and stand, but just as I take a step toward her, ready to end her, she slams her flat, open palm into the smashed vile—into my blood.
"Kneel!" she howls.
And my knees. Fucking. Bend.
I try to push through it, to shake it off, but I come down hard. And then the silent witch comes around the corner, entering the room, taking us in.
"You wanted to be a part of this coven? Build me a shield and an illusion. A strong one. Get us out of here."
The guy looks at Deidre vacantly. Her fingers twirl, giving me a yank, like there's a collar around my neck. I can't help it, I fucking obey.
She says, "We have the omega. He's her mate—" she points to me.
"He'll impregnate her and then her blood will be the most powerful element on this entire planet.
We have her—I just need your help getting to her.
I'll give you anything you want. You can be my second in power. Think of what we can do," she pleads.
He doesn't respond right away, but my answering growl brings her attention back to me.
"You didn't think I'd figure it out? I practically gift-wrapped this pathetic she-wolf—all those heats, all that time alone together.
There's only one reason a virile alpha like you didn't breed her.
" She sneers a vicious, knowing smile. "What do you wolves call it? Fated mates?"
The agony of her words tear through me. She still has my blood on her hands, and even though her power against me isn't as potent and it's fading again as my blood dries, I wait. I obey.
Whatever she says convinces the quiet witch. He just nods. Outside, wolves and witches war. I look down at Lily. She's healing, but she's a delta… and honestly, these days, she smells more like…
Fuck if I know. An omega?
She smells different, that's all I know. But she's healing, albeit slowly. She'll live.
My brother will get her out of here.
I follow Deidre, with the other witch at my back, and we file out the side door.
After reaching into his pocket, pulling out a pouch full of herbs, the new witch—I guess I underestimated him—slams potent shields into place behind us.
We climb into a sedan. Magic shimmers, sulfuric and strong.
The forest shifts around us, and as we pull away, the glamour follows as we escape.