As he reaches for me again, I lean away.
Then turn away.
I give him my back and whisper, “I don’t care about that. You should rest before your long trip back home.”
When I reach what I’ve deemed as “my corner”—where I was curled up before Adalyn and Archer came in and the alarm sounded—I reclaim my position. Hair down to block my face and legs up to my chest, I bow my head and wait for Sloane’s return, for once with anticipation. The sooner she comes, the sooner the inevitable will happen.
Within the mist of despair, Ryder’s deep voice breaks through. “Let me talk.”
“Let me save you,” I counter, lifting my head so my voice carries.
“Carina—”
“Stop, Ryder. I’m sorry this hurts you but think about how all of this is hurting me. ’Kay, just…stop.”
He doesn’t speak again.
My eyes shut and I hold my stomach—my hands settling over the place I imagine the bond being centred.
If such a thing even exists.
When steps approach the room,I lift my head, thrilled to have her back. With Sloane, I’ll do whatever the fuck needed in order to send the pack on their way. She enters with Adalyn and Archer, each taking sentry by the door. Adalyn’s staring wide-eyed at the shifters, but it’s Archer who looks at me.
Same as Ryder, who hasn’t glanced away since we were alone.
There’s no life for him here, so ignoring him is the easiest thing for us all. Dark or Light, I’m a witch caught in a much bigger problem, and he’s an Alpha shifter whose entire objective is to keep his pack safe.
I’m helping him accomplish that.
Sloane approaches the cells, looking between them. “Hope you two worked everything out.”
“Release them.” Unfolding my legs to stand, all without a glance towards the pack, I cross to her.
In Sloane’s absence, the three shifters have taken to chatting—planning an escape that won’t work—napping, and observingtheir Alpha. The Alpha in question did nothing but sit as close as he could to the bars and watch me.
“I’ll help you save the covens, Sloane. I’m ready to forsake what I know and learn black magick.”
“Good. But before releasing them, there’s something I need to test. It’d be a shame to let an opportunity pass. You see, for years, there was a little rumour going around that I’d be remiss to ignore.”
A choking sound comes from the cell beside me right as vines whip through the space, moving the shifters around. Holly, Conan, and Xander are slammed against the wall, a band of thick ivy strapping them in place.
In the centre, Ryder’s down on his knees, a vine constricting his throat. His fingers claw at it—shifted with wolf nails to tear through—but Sloane’s magick is too powerful.
“No!” I throw myself at the bars, cursing—raging—at the magick-suppressing cuffs on my wrists, trying to rip them off, to free my magick, to first break the hold on the vines and then strangle Sloane with black magick’s tendrils. “No, this isn’t what we agreed to!”
His face flushes red with the seconds of his life ticking down. His pack growls and shouts.
“Stop!” I push at the bars again. Throw my body at it, even though they’re reinforced and I’m doing nothing but bruising my arms.
But Ryder wouldn’t stop for anything if the roles were reversed.
Archer straightens from the wall, casting an uneasy glance at Adalyn, who continues cleaning her nails as though nothing is amiss. In her world, maybe nothing is.
In mine,everythingis.
“Stop!” I hit the bars so hard, the thud of my skin against the wood not only stings my palms but echoes through myhead. My mouth aches, having been clenching my jaw so hard—specifically my gums. “Sloane, you fucking bitch!”
“Make me.”
