“Take her,” Zella instructs the others. “Carefully. Silver restraints only—she’s more dangerous than she appears.”
As they descend toward me, I straighten my spine, refusing to cower despite the odds against me. Whatever happens next, I will face it as Alpha Female of the Shadowmist Pack—with dignity intact and resistance unbroken.
My hand slips to the dagger at my side.
“I trusted you,” I tell Zella as the wolves surround me.
Her expression reveals nothing. “That was the point.”
Silver chains appear in their hands—the same ones from my vision, designed to bind not just my body but my gift as well.
I can feel Ryker’s fury and determination racing toward me like fire. He may be fighting like hell, but he won’t make it in time.
“He will come for me,” I warn them, the certainty absolute in my voice.
Zella’s smile holds no warmth. “We’re counting on it.”
The words make my blood run cold—this isn’t just a kidnapping. They’re going to use me as bait for a larger trap. They want Ryker.
As the silver chains close around my wrists, pain lances through me—not just physical burning, but deeper agony as the metal begins to interfere with the claiming bond. Our connection weakens, Ryker’s presence in my mind growing fainter despite his desperate attempt to maintain contact.
The last sensation I feel through our bond before silver severs it completely is his absolute, unwavering vow—a promise that transcends words, that resonates with primal certainty.
I will find you, Kitara. I will reclaim you. And those responsible will pay with their lives.
A cloth is slotted over my hair and strong hands lift me from the ravine, carrying me toward whatever fate Thaddeus has planned for me.
The prophecy unfolds, inevitable as the sunset, unstoppable as the tide. And I am now its unwilling catalyst.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Pain.
Silver against skin, burning cold despite the cloth wrapped beneath to prevent direct contact. The chains bind my wrists and ankles, heavy links rattling with every jolt of movement as I’m carried deeper into unknown territory. The hood over my head blocks all light, leaving me in suffocating darkness punctuated by the sounds of my captors—footsteps, occasional murmured orders, Zella’s voice directing their movements with the same calm efficiency she’d shown during our training sessions.
Worst of all is the silence in my mind where Ryker’s presence should be. I reach for him repeatedly, straining against the metal’s suppression, catching only fragments of his rage and determination before the silver pulls me back into isolation.
Time becomes meaningless in this sensory-deprived state. Minutes or hours could have passed since my capture—I have no way to tell. My body registers the information my eyes cannot, an initial uphill climb from the ravine, then level ground for what feels like days, and finally a descent intocooler air that carries the damp mineral scent of underground spaces.
The group stops abruptly. I’m set down, not gently but not with deliberate roughness either. Professional, that’s the word for their treatment. Like handling dangerous cargo that must be delivered intact.
“Remove the hood,” Zella orders. “We’re secure here.”
The covering is ripped away and light assaults my eyes forcing me to blink rapidly as I adjust. We’re in what appears to be an ancient mining tunnel, support beams weathered with age framing a passage that disappears into darkness. Torches provide limited illumination, their flames casting dancing shadows across rough-hewn walls.
Five wolves surround me, all wearing the distinctive markings of the Grand Alpha. Currently in human form, they watch me with wary attention, hands never far from weapons. Zella stands slightly apart, her familiar face now a mask of cool detachment rather than the warmth I’ve grown accustomed to.
A commotion from farther down the tunnel draws my attention. Two more guards appear, dragging a struggling figure between them. My breath catches as I recognize the silver-blonde hair, the scarred face now twisted in fury.
Lithia.
They throw her down beside me, her body hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Blood stains her temple and her breathing comes in pained gasps, but her eyes when they meet mine are clear and filled with cold rage.
“Lithia,” Zella greets. “You’ll make a valuable addition to our prizes.”
“Should’ve killed me when you had the chance, traitor,” Lithia spits, her voice raw but strong despite her injuries.
