Roman steps closer, his eyes fused with mine, his smile never fading. “That is the point. Fire consumes, Silas. And from ash, we rise.”
His hand snaps forward, striking me across the face. My head whips sideways, the taste of blood flooding my mouth. The witches cry out, their chains rattling.
“You think I don’t see you?” Roman snarls, his voice sharp, his hand gripping my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “You think I don’t smell her on you? The wolf. You reek of her. You think you can crawl from my shadow and into hers without me knowing?”
His grip tightens, his claws pressing into my skin. Pain flares hot, but I don’t flinch.
“You taught me to bleed for you,” I rasp, my voice rough, steady. “But I’ll never bleed for you again.”
His fist slams into my ribs, once, twice, the crack of bone sharp in the air. I drop to my knees, breath torn from me, but I keep my eyes on him, steady, unbroken.
Roman crouches low, his voice a hiss in my ear. “Tell me where they hide. Tell me where the Brotherhood waits. Tell me where she is. And maybe I’ll let you die clean.”
I laugh, the sound rough, broken, blood dripping from my lip. “You’ll never touch her.”
His claws rake across my chest, tearing flesh, pain burning white-hot. My fox roars inside me, pressing hard against chains that don’t exist, but I hold him down. I will not give Roman that satisfaction.
He strikes again, and again, the world blurring, my body breaking under his fists, his claws, his voice cutting sharp through haze. “Tell me, Silas. Tell me now.”
But I don’t. I bite down against every word, every groan, every scream. I let the pain wash through me, let it burn, let it strip me raw, until only one thing remains.
Her.
Mary.
Her eyes, fierce and steady. Her voice, sharp but caring. Her wolf pressing against me, snarling not in hate but in recognition.
My last thought before darkness takes me is her name, her face, her fire.
Mary.
23
MARY
The night feels wrong even before Tessa speaks. The wind claws at the shutters, dragging long fingers across the walls, and my wolf presses against my skin like a heartbeat that isn’t mine, restless and raw. I’ve been pacing the cabin for hours, unable to sit still, every part of me reaching toward the stretch of forest where Silas vanished.
Tessa comes quietly, her pale hair damp with snow, her eyes sharp with a light that isn’t fire. She doesn’t knock. She doesn’t need to. Her visions always come when they’re least welcome.
“I saw him,” she says, her voice low but carrying, as though she’s afraid the air itself might shatter.
I stop pacing. “Where?”
Her gaze flicks to mine, steady, unblinking. “Roman’s camp. He’s alive, but…” She trails off, her mouth tightening. “He won’t be for long if we wait.”
My wolf snarls violently, the sound tearing free of my throat, not loud but deep enough to rattle my chest. “Then we don’t wait.”
Darius appears in the doorway, drawn by the noise. His face is carved in shadow, his eyes green and sharp. “This isn’t your decision alone,” he says, his voice low but edged.
“Yes, it is,” I answer, stepping toward him, my wolf rising, steady and fierce. “He’s out there because of us. Because of me. I’m not sitting here while Roman tears him apart.”
“You don’t even know if it’s a trap,” he snaps back. “He could have walked back into Roman’s arms. He could already be dead. You lead our people into a slaughter, and for what? A fox?”
I close the distance between us until our chests almost touch, my voice calm but burning. “For someone who saved my life. For someone who turned on his master when no one else would. For someone who’s earned at least one chance.”
He stares at me a long moment, his jaw tight, his wolf pushing against mine. Then he exhales, the fight slipping from his shoulders. “If you go, you don’t go alone,” he says.
I nod once. “Fine. But I lead.”
