Gritting my teeth, I walk into the cell. Adalyn swings the door shut with a nasty cackle, catching the bars on the back of my ankle. I turn, glaring, but my view is blocked by Sloane.
“Consider what you’ve learned. I’ll be back shortly.” She sweeps from the room and Adalyn follows.
Archer lingers for a few extra seconds before he too leaves.
Fifty-One
RYDER
Once past the Ontario border,we stop one more time to briefly rest, eat, and nap. The water Holly was wise enough to grab and the snacks from Morgan become useful, allowing each of us a longer rest without the need to hunt.
Once ready to go again, Conan takes the lead, letting the magick vial in the backpack direct us, accompanied by the pulse in my stomach that gets stronger with every town we pass.
It’s late evening when we reach the other end of a series of vast forests and large rolling hills, to a community nestled in the base of them.
This is it.
The bond’s stretch has loosened more and more until it’s no longer thin but lax—a welcome tingle in my stomach that has cured the pain in my head since the minute she was taken from me.
We’re close. This is where Carina is.
I nudge my nose west, taking the lead, following my mate’s directions.
Soon.
This will be over soon.
Fifty-Two
CARINA
After the three witches leave,the room falls into near darkness, and after a brief and pointless test of the bars, I drop to the ground. With my back to the bars and the door, facing the opposite wall, I let my head roll back.
“Hecate, how the fuck did I get here?”
There’s nothing but silence, which is expected.
“How much of this do you approve of?” I find myself wondering to Her. “The Seer being locked up is wrong, but the rest? I saw the truth for myself; is this the path you want for us?”
Regardless, the covenhasto know what’s happening—and the choices Sloane is making for every witch and warlock.
I don’t know what the next steps are. Going home and warning Mom definitely, but the only way to do that seems to be to join Sloane’s mission. If I agree too quickly, she’ll either know I have other plans or I’ll risk becoming evil before getting saved.
My head drops to my knees, and I wrap my arms around my legs until brushing the magick-suppressing cuffs. They’re worse than the potion Ryder used. Apparently, it’s my destiny to constantly have my powers stripped.
Not knowing what exactly is coming, I shut my eyes and attempt to tune all the loud thoughts out while breathing through the thumps in my head that slowly release me from their claws.
As I close my eyes, my mind replays a safe sound: the faint howl of my dark-haired wolf.
Sloane sweepsinto the room some time later and conjures a chair in front of my cell, where she settles in. “How are you?”
I should be asking howsheis. Bipolar, I’m sure—not that there’s anything wrong with the diagnosis. She’s gone from crazy High Priestess to teacher of the disbelieving lessons to captor of myself and a warlock-Seer…and now she’s supposedly a friendly ear?
“Doesn’t playing nice with the person you’re keeping captive defeat the purpose?”
She huffs so hard, if she were a wolf, she might’ve been able to blow her own bars down. “Face me when we’re talking. Please.”
Her syllables literally curled up and died on that word.
