Zella smiles thinly. “The Grand Alpha has specific plans for you. As the Shadowmist’s enforcer, you hold valuableintelligence. And I’ve no doubt you’ll share it, once you’re properly persuaded.”
I watch in helpless rage as they secure Lithia with silver chains similar to my own. Unlike me, she fights despite the futility, earning a backhanded blow that splits her lip. Only when they’ve finished binding her does she still, her silver eyes finding mine in silent communication.
“Ryker lives. He’ll come for us.”A guard backhands her, silencing her once more.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask Zella.
She studies me coldly. “You were never meant to be claimed by the Shadowmist alpha. Your gift is too valuable to waste on a pack of outcasts.”
“Waste?” Anger flares through me, momentarily overwhelming the pain of the silver. “They respected my gift. Taught me to control it without breaking. They treated me as a person rather than a tool. I’m stronger because of them.”
Her laugh holds no humor. “Don’t mistake Ryker’s intentions for love, Kitara. He claimed you for an advantage in his feud with Thaddeus. He’s using you, just as surely as the rest of us will.”
“If that’s true,” Lithia interjects, her voice cold with contempt, “he wouldn’t have trained her. He would have used her exactly as Silvercrest did—draining her dry whenever convenient.”
Zella’s expression tightens at the interruption. “Tell me, Lithia, did you enjoy playing nursemaid to a wolf who can’t shift? Does it please Ryker to have his fiercest fighter reduced to babysitting?”
“I serve my Alpha,” Lithia replies with quiet dignity despite her chains. “And his mate. Kitara serves our pack. I am proud to call her Alpha Female.”
“How touching.” Zella turns away dismissively. “Separate them. Different transport routes, different final destinations.The Grand Alpha wants no chance of coordinated escape attempts.”
“No!” I struggle against my restraints as guards move toward Lithia. “We stay together!”
My protest earns no response beyond an impassive glance from Zella. The guards haul Lithia to her feet, ignoring her pained grimace as the silver chains grind against her wounds.
“Stay strong, Kitara,” Lithia calls as they drag her toward a branching tunnel. “Remember who you are, what we’ve taught you. And know that our Alpha will not rest until?—”
A guard’s fist cuts her off midsentence. The crack of the blow rings through the chamber like a gunshot. My stomach twists as her body crumples, silver-blonde hair fanning like a halo as she’s hauled unconscious into the dark.
My wolf surges, howling for blood and retribution. Rage boils under my skin.
“You’ll regret separating us,” I tell Zella, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I feel. “Ryker will come for us, and I’ll be right there beside him when he exacts his revenge.”
“We’re ready,” she replies, her expression unreadable in the torchlight.
I’m silent for a moment as I glare at her, trying to control my fury.
I shake my head. “Why are you doing this?”
“For the greater good.”
I lean forward despite the chains’ weight. “How does any of this serve the greater good?”
She dismisses my question. “The Grand Alpha has a careful rehabilitation program planned. You’ll be treated with dignity, your gift properly managed by experienced handlers.”
“Handlers.” I put every ounce of contempt I possess into the word. “At least have the courage to say what you mean. I’ll be a prisoner, my visions forced from me wheneverconvenient, my body used to breed more seers your Grand Alpha can control.”
Zella’s jaw tightens. “It’s necessary. The packs need seers to survive in these times. Your gift is too rare to risk.”
“My gift. My choice.” I meet her gaze directly. “And I chose the Shadowmist.”
She turns away from me. “Get some rest. Our journey isn’t finished yet.”
We emerge from the tunnels hours later, and I’m loaded into a jeep, sandwiched between two enforcers. The silver chains remain, though they’ve been adjusted to allow minimal movement within the confined space.
I catch no further glimpse of Lithia, though I strain to spot any sign of where they might have taken her.Different routes, Zella had said.Different destinations.The strategic value of separating us is obvious—dividing Ryker’s attention, forcing him to choose which of us to pursue first.
The car begins moving, each jolt sending fresh pain through my silver-burned skin. The windows are heavily tinted, but I glimpse forest giving way to rolling hills, the landscape unfamiliar after our circuitous journey. We’re heading east, away from Shadowmist territory, though I can’t determine our precise destination.
