He opens the door and a man enters.
I’m halfway out of the chair when I recognize him and have to stop myself from shrinking back again.
“What is he doing here?” I ask, unsteady from the blood loss and the memory of this man’s threats.
“Sir is here to escort you to your new room.”
“You can’t be serious. He’s just as cruel as Nurse Evil.”
Cutter’s brow lifts. “You outlined your terms very specifically, Celeste, and I was happy to meet them. We have an agreement. Besides, Sir has his instructions and will ensure no harm comes to you.”
I bite my lip.
“I’ve also taken the liberty of setting you up in a room large enough to share with your two Australian friends.” His smile is knowingly crude.
I stare at him, unsure whether or not to believe what he says.
Sir stands silently beside him and I relent.
“All right,” I say quietly, stepping past Cutter to follow Sir into the hall.
“I’m so glad we could find a way to work together,” Cutter says as I pass. When I turn back, his smile is sharper, his eyes gleaming with secrets. “For Estelle’s sake,” he adds.
“For Estelle,” I murmur and then leave him behind, along with the spirits who still cling to him, clawing at his clothes and skin, unbeknownst to him.
Sir is silent and stiff as he leads me through a maze of halls and two doors marked “Restricted” before entering a wing that looks more like a dormitory than a prison.
Still, I’m unsure what to expect when he stops in front of the last door on the left and swipes a key card to open it. Then he steps back and gestures for me to enter. I tense as I pass him, but he doesn’t touch me or speak. The moment I’m over the threshold, he reaches in and pulls the door shut. The self-lock clicks into place immediately, sealing me inside.
I exhale, shoulders sagging at the sight of Dean and Declan rushing at me from the other side of the room.
“What happened?” Dean asks.
“Are you okay?” Declan demands.
“I’m fine. I . . .” I pause, taking in our new surroundings, speechless at the luxury that apparently existed just one floor above those terrible prison cells.
“Celeste? Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m okay.” I shake my head and turn back to Declan and Dean who both watch me with worried expressions. I grab each of their hands in one of my own and squeeze. “I have something to tell you.”
12
"So… you're going to help him?" Declan's jaw has been clenched rigidly since I began explaining what I've learned. Dean is watching impassively, taking in everything I've said.
"I'm going to do what I must to save my twin," I clarify, giving him and Dean a pointed look. “You two of all people should understand that.”
They know what that bond means, and we all know they would do anything to save each other.
In the corner, next to the wide oak dresser decorated with a vase of fresh flowers, my sister's ghostly form flickers into view, her head bowed, long locks of brown hair falling over her face. When she looks up, I gasp. Where her eyes should be, are black orbs.
Don't trust anyone. Not even me.
She disappears, and I strangle a frustrated sigh. If she's not dead, then what am I seeing? Can a person's soul roam free of their body like a ghost while they're yet alive? Is she an illusion? An imposter? My own imagination?
I may no longer believe I'm crazy, but I still can't trust what I see as truth. Not in this place. Not with all the mind games they're playing on us.
I look around our new room—with plush furniture and thick carpet. A private bathroom with a sunken tub. Even a small couch facing a private television. It’s luxurious compared to what we had before. But I know without a doubt Cutter is observing us—listening to everything we say.
I lean in closer to the brothers and brush my lips against Declan's ear, pulling Dean closer so he can hear too. "We have to be careful what we say. But I'm doing my best to make things better for us."
Declan frowns. "You're playing with fire, witch-girl."
I think back to the day I lit my door on fire and get an idea. Holding my hand out, I concentrate as hard as I can, and for just a moment, a flicker of a flame appears on my palm before dissipating. Blink and you'd miss it, but I didn't blink.
I smile triumphantly. "Maybe I am the fire," I whisper.
Dean is still staring at my palm as if willing the flame to return, but Declan's gaze is locked on my face, his expression unreadable.
"I have a feeling that bastard is getting more than he bargained for with you, love," he says, and I'm not gonna lie, his use of the word love makes my head spin a bit.
He takes my hand and pulls me closer against him. “I understand doing what you must for your twin.” His voice is husky and filled with emotion.
He and Dean exchange a look and Dean nods.
Declan exhales a breath I didn’t know he was holding. “There’s something you should know about us.”
I wait, listening, knowing there’s nothing he could say that would shock me at this point.
“Our father was alpha of our pack,” Declan says. “When he died, pack law dictated the eldest son would become the new alpha. But there was no provision for twins so our pack elders decreed that Dean and I would need to fight for who would be the next alpha.”
“Fight?” I repeat, horrified at what they were forced to do.
“To the death,” Declan adds grimly.
I gasp, unable to imagine being put in a position where I would have to kill my own sister.
“Which of you won?” I ask, sensing there’s much more to this story. There must be if both of them are still here; alive and well.
Dean answers. “Neither of us. We refused.”
“They should have never tried to force you into that.”
“But we couldn’t stay in the pack any longer, so we left. That’s how we got caught. That’s how Cutter’s mongrels found us. Without our pack, we were vulnerable. Weaker. Unprotected.”
“They waited until we were alone to attack,” Declan adds. His eyes are haunted as he says, “We each managed to take out a couple of them, but in the end, they were stronger.”
I reach for Declan’s hand and bring both him and Dean closer. “I’m so sorry,” I say, my heart breaking for them both. I remember the longing in their eyes when they spoke about their pack, about the family bond it created. What a horror to have to choose between your family and your twin. Of course, there was no choice, not really, but the loss must hurt deeply nonetheless.
They look at each other again, sharing some silent communication, and then Declan grips me more tightly. “Even if we make it out of here, we won’t go back. You’re our pack now. And we will do whatever we must to keep you safe, little witch.”
“Declan’s right,” Dean says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We both claim you.” He looks from me to his brother, eyes bright with a ferocity he rarely lets slip. “Together.”
Declan nods at him. “Together.”
I suck in my breath and exhale deeply. His words penetrate so many layers of pain, fear, and worry that I feel both broken and mended at once upon hearing them. Tears blur my vision and I lean my head against Declan’s chest as Dean’s arms slip around my waist. Their warmth surrounds me, and I know together we can get through anything. I have to believe that.