“Declan,” I call uncertainly. “Are you...you?”
But there’s no answer.
I whip towards the sound of a door opening, but the blackness surrounding me remains unchanged. I hear grunts and a clinking of chains. Dean’s voice is harsh and angry, but it’s too far away to make out the words. There’s a final growl, and then a slammed door, and nothing.
I am alone in the silent darkness.
I try to conjure more silvery light, if only to illuminate the space around me, but it doesn’t come.
Maybe it never will.
Maybe I’ve used it all up.
Maybe I’ve lost my one chance at saving us all.
Another door opens. I strain to listen for some sign that I’m not alone.
The door shuts.
The lights come on. Or the illusion ends. Either way, I can see again.
A quick blink is all it takes to realize I am no longer alone.
The guys are both gone.
In their place, unchained and absolutely feral, is a wolf.
I recognize it instantly. It’s the same wolf that tried to attack me by throwing itself at its cell bars, unconcerned with the pain of the metal against its frail bones. All it cared about then was sinking its teeth into me. And one look at the unfocused eyes and bared canines and I know nothing has changed.
This wolf is unreachable and it’s hell bent on killing me.
There’s no silver magic left in my veins. Either that or it’s decided not to assist me against the wolf I now face. Not a single spirit appears to offer help in my eleventh hour. I’m on my own. Weaponless. At the mercy of a beast.
I take a slow step back. “Easy now.”
And I’m rewarded with a low snarl.
The wolf takes a step forward.
My shoulder blades hit the wall behind me.
I’m trapped.
“Is this because Declan wouldn’t kill me?” I call to whoever’s listening.
The wolf doesn’t answer, but I am certain there are others watching this unfold. Schmidt. The man with the scars. Cutter.
“I can’t summon my magic,” I say when the wolf takes another step.
It’s not in a hurry. It knows I’m cornered prey.
I bite my lip as a single tear slips down my cheek. I refuse to beg for their mercy. When the wolf leaps at me, I am ready. I know I’ve done all I can. And I would die again if it means saving the ones I love. I just hope Declan and Dean get out. And that they’ll help Estelle get out too.
With eyes closed, I grit my teeth and brace myself for the attack that I know is coming.
But instead of claws and teeth raking down my body, I am swept up into the firm grip of cold arms. Fingers tighten against my hip and underneath my legs as wind whips across my cheeks. The speed at which I’m moving is impossible. Even with my eyes open, the walls blur by me too fast to make out.
My stomach rolls with nausea.
By the time we stop, my feeling of safety is overshadowed by the shock of what he’s just done.
“How did you—”
“Are you all right?” Dr. Livingstone’s voice is urgent, and his closeness makes it hard to think past our bodies pressed so tightly together in such a cramped space. It’s a closet. I think. Hard to tell in the near-darkness, but the smell of bleach is strong.
“I’m fine,” I say, voice wavering as I think back to the feral wolf. And before that, to Declan. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I’ve been keeping tabs on you all week,” he admits quietly and my stomach jumps for other reasons. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“After you fed, I didn’t see you and I thought...”
I trail off. There are too many worries to name.
His fingers brush my cheek and I realize my face is wet with tears.
I sniffle.
“You’re safe now,” he says, pulling me tighter against his chest and folding me into the crook of his neck.
“They’ll come after you,” I tell him.
“I doubt it.” There’s a smugness in his words as he adds, “I’m faster than their eyes and even their cameras can track.”
I breathe in his scent—something musky and spiced—and my shoulders relax.
“Thank you,” I say against his chest
His body remains stiff against mine and I tense, pulling away to study his drawn brows and tight frown.
“This is inappropriate, I know,” I say with regret.
“No. Yes, I mean. It is but that’s not—that wolf would have killed you.”
“Yes.”
“And Schmidt and Mason would have let it.”
I cock my head. “Yes.”
He is silent, his gaze faraway as if he’s working something out. Finally, he refocuses on me and the air between us thickens with the rage simmering in his cobalt eyes. “Is this what they’ve been doing with you since our sessions stopped? Pitting you against the others?”
“They’ve been torturing us with various methods from the moment we’ve arrived.”
I watch as the truth plays across his features.
Past conversations flit through my mind. The remarks about the cells. His dismissals of my claims. The promises he made. The concerns for my well-being that felt so real.
“You truly didn’t know,” I realize.
“I would have stopped them much sooner,” he says, his voice hoarse.
And this time, I believe it.
Out in the hall, voices call to one another.
“Find her immediately,” Nurse Schmidt orders.
Heavy footfalls march closer, and Dr. Livingstone puts his finger to my lips to signal quiet.
I barely breathe as the footsteps march past us and fade away.
Before I can relax, a second set tromps closer.
“She’s here, I can damn well sense her,” Schmidt snarls from just outside the door.
My heart stutters in my chest.
Dr. Livingstone tenses, and I know he’s preparing to fight for me. But all that will do is cause trouble. Maybe even put Estelle in danger.
Magic surges underneath my skin.
Not the silvery threads that have come to my aid in the past. This is something different. Something colder. Harsher.
Let us help, the voices whisper.
Or maybe the power itself is speaking to me now. I don’t know. And I don’t care.
I give into it before I even understand what it’s offering.
All I know is that it will save us—and that’s enough for me.
Pressing my hands to Dr. Livingstone’s cheeks, I will the magic to flow between us. I’ve only barely begun to get a glimpse of what it’s offering when the air flutters around us, followed by a soft pop.
Dr. Livingstone’s eyes go wide as the light around us fades to gray. In fact, everything fades until all color has been stripped away, painting the world around us in a dull black and white, shimmering with transparency.
I reach my hand back towards the wall behind me and gasp as my fingers pass straight through it.
The only thing solid underneath my grip is the doctor.
On my right, the closet door is ripped open and Nurse Schmidt appears. I nearly choke in panic as she stares right at us.
But then her frown only deepens as I realize she’s not looking at us at all, but rather through us. A second later, she slams the door shut, sealing us inside.
“What is—” Dr. Livingstone stops short as another figure appears.