Evara steps closer, her attention fixed on Siggy. “You really should have shifted when she told you to,” she croons, clearly having heard every word we exchanged while running. “We could have kept this fun going a while longer. I do love a good game of hide-and-seek.” Her gaze drifts over my Nightingale’s frame with open appraisal. “I would’ve liked to see your wolf too.If you were pretty enough, I might have decided to keep you for myself and make you into a fur coat.”
She grips the lapels of her black coat and draws it tighter around herself, swaying slightly, as if picturing it.
I’m torn between watching her and watching Siggy, who stands frozen at my side, eyes empty and unblinking.
Zephira steps forward, all business, impatience sharpening her tone. “Stop wasting time,” she tells her sister, voice flat. “We’re on the clock. The plane is scheduled to land in the next hour, and we need the new stock gathered and waiting before the inverter’s magic on the ward fails.”
Inverter. The word slots into place instantly.
I’d already guessed what had happened with Amara’s magic, but this confirms it. Inverters are rare, but it seems rare magic is something Tanith’s coven collects like stamps. These witches or charmers can’t actually form their own magic. They can only commandeer what’s already there, keeping a spell intact while twisting its purpose. Amara’s ward is still standing. It’s just been turned into something else. A cage infused with dark magic.
The wordplaneis just as important, if not more so.
They aren’t just containing my pack’s omegas, they’re transporting them. Tonight.
Zephira’s eyes sweep over me again before she adds, “And Tanith doesn’t care if that prick McNamara laid claim already. She wants this one brought to her as soon as possible.”
It doesn’t strike me as strange that they would refer to their mother by her name. Not Mother. Not something warming. Just Tanith. I don’t know much about the witch. Don’t know her face. Don’t know her voice. Don’t know the extent of her power. I only know enough to be certain she was never the nurturing sort.
She continues. “And she wants the Alpha, but he’s still on the other side of the ward.”
I don’t need clarification. She meansmyalpha. Rennick.
Evara’s mouth twists into a pout, like her sister has just taken away her favorite toy. She drifts closer to Siggy, invading her space, and then tilts her head as she studies the blankness in my Nightingale’s eyes.
“You’re going to do as you’re told,” she murmurs, her tone almost gentle. “You’re going to walk with us to the car.” The magic woven within her command stirs in the air, rubbing uncomfortably against my skin. “You’re going to go calmly and quietly, and your crossborn friend here is going to do the same. If she doesn’t, you’re going to take your claws to your neck and use them to rip out your own throat.”
Siggy’s hand lifts.
Claws take the place of her trimmed fingernails, and they rise to her neck. With deliberate pressure, the sharp points press into the side of her jugular. They don’t break skin. They don’t need to. The threat is very clear.
My heart flip-flops violently in my chest cavity and I go still, my body locking up as if the compulsion has reached me too.
Evara finally looks away from Siggy and I breathe easier instantly, even if I’m the one in her sights now. “Do you understand what will happen if you try anything stupid?”
“Yes.”
Her face brightens instantly, as if my dread has given her the dopamine boost she’s been craving. She claps once, pleased. “Good!” Then, spins away on her toes and by the time she steps back into place beside her sister, she already looks bored. “Come along, puppies. We’ve got a plane to catch.”
Siggy lurches forward at once, following without hesitation. I stay rooted for half a second longer, boots suddenly pieces of stone shackled to my feet, until something nudges hard between my shoulders. One of the traitorous Fallamhain wolves presses his pointed snout into my back, urging me forward.
I glare over my shoulder, accomplishing absolutely nothing except making myself feel marginally better, then move. I catch up to Siggy and match her pace.
The next part blurs together.
We’re marched through the trees to the nearest road where several familiar vehicles sit lined up like some kind of diplomatic motorcade. The lead car waits with its doors open. The others already look full, their windows too dark to make out who’s inside.
The pack’s SUVs. Black Escalades.
Tanith’s coven and Cathal’s wolves have commandeered them as if they’ve always belonged to them. My mind snags on the question of how they even knew where we keep them, where the keys are stored, but the answer follows close behind. There are too many people in this pack who could have told them—the ones they liberated from holding cells are an obvious start. And I believe there’s more. Ones who’ve stayed quiet, who’ve flown beneath suspicion.
Siggy and I are pushed into the back of the empty vehicle. I sit stiffly beside her, shoulder to shoulder, her claws still poised at her throat. Her gaze has gone unfocused, her breathing too shallow. It isn’t calm. It’s the kind of stillness that means she’s trapped behind her own eyes.
I reach for her with my gift and find nothing but static. Not resistance, just a complete absence. Evara’s compulsion has sealed her away somewhere I can’t reach her.
Come on, Siggy. Give me a sign that you can hear me.
I get nothing in return.
