In my adrenaline-soaked mind, I scramble for purpose. For an idea of who could have orchestrated this. And in the end, there’s only one person I can think of who might wish this level of hurt upon me, but the idea that she’d go through all this trouble when she’s already won—wonhim—feels as far-fetched as the possibility she somehow has connections to witches.
I find my voice. It’s hoarse, but I manage to push the words out. “If you’re here for me like you say you are, why did you kill her?Lowri?” There’s no way around it, her name is nothing more than a croak. “What could she have done to you or your…people, to warrant her execution?”
Execution. It’s the right word to use, but it still tastes like ash on my tongue.
The witch shrugs her sharp shoulders. “She was in the way,” she says, like it was a simple answer I should have seen myself. “Patrolling too close to where I peeled away your Priestess’s protective spell. She tried to interfere—brave, but pointless. Even an Alpha like her can’t stand against a compeller. My sister Evara’s gift is words. A real silver tongue, that one. A single whisper, and most minds fold. Most. Of course, you’d be immune. The perk of being crossborn, I suppose.”Crossborn. An archaic term. Mostly forgotten and only spoken by the ones who still cling to the idea that the coven of witches who mated with wolves generations ago committed some sacred crime. Creating a taint on the sanctity of both bloodlines. The rest of the world calls us what we are. Charmers. But to the purists, we’re crossborn. “The Alpha female didn’t even have time to warn her pack before she was under our control. She led us right to your quaint little home and the sweet, innocent lives you left unattended here.” Her straight nose wrinkles as she scans me. “Though, from the waves of rot currently coming off of you, I don’t get the impression you would have been much help to them.”
She’s right. The rejected mate syndrome festering beneath my skin has left me weak, but the adrenaline and fury coursing through my system has me feeling stronger than I have since it took root in my mating bond’s absence.
Weak or strong, I would do anything in my power to protect the ones I love, something the witch seems to be overlooking.
I’ve been fighting the urge to look again since she stepped out of the dark nesting room, but the moment she mentions my people, I can’t stop myself. My gaze darts around the space that once felt hallowed. Now it feels wrong, stained, not just by Lowri’s spilled blood,but by what it signifies. Someone got in. Got past every line of defense we’ve ever put our trust in. That’s never happened. Not once since this place was formed. I do another sweep of the shadows, hoping for a morsel ofsomething. Movement, breath, a familiar silhouette. But there’s no sign of Seren, Edie, Siggy, or Rhosyn.
The witch observes my frantic searching with amusement glittering in her too light eyes.
Somewhere in the shadowed dwelling, a door creaks open and my heart skips a beat at the first indication of life.
“Enough foreplay, Malvina,” a frigid voice reprimands from the darkness. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
I turn my head in time to watch the door swing the rest of the way open. Everything in me recoils. That’s Siggy’s nest. Her refuge. Her first real safe space since her courageous escape from the sex trafficking ring. A room she has only just started believing belongs to her. The chalkboard next to the door still has her name on it, written in Edie’s bright, goofy cursive. It’s still perfect, still whole. But everything inside that room has been desecrated. Touched by poison. Another fragment of peace torn apart by these witches.
Two figures step from the darkness first, and my muscles seize. They look just like the witch holding Ivey.
Triplets.
They have to be, with their matching near-translucent skin and the same inky dark hair, though each styled differently to set them apart. One of the new arrivals wears hers in a long, twisted braid down her back. Her expression utterly devoid of emotion.There’s no light in her pale eyes. No flicker of thought. They’re nothing but vacant marbles. Polished and empty.
The other has a tousled pixie cut that should give her a sense of whimsy. Instead, it makes her look feral. She moves with a giddy bounce in her step, her grin so wide and bright it verges on manic. Where the witch holding Ivey—Malvina—is calm and collected, unsettling in her control, this one practically vibrates with barely contained chaos. She immediately puts me more on edge than the other two.
And then I see them.
My girls.
Chapter 2
Noa
Siggy emerges first, her dark blue eyes wide but vacant. Her shoulders are curled in, like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible, and I can’t tell if it’s the compulsion or her trauma resurfacing. Edie follows, usually the light and joy of any room, her deep olive skin now ashen and her lips parted in a dazed, dreamlike expression. Her bare feet shuffle, dragging softly across the cement floor. This was supposed to be their refuge,Iwas supposed to be their refuge. But as I stare at my Nightingales, blank-eyed and held hostage, all I can feel is the weight of every promise I failed to keep. I told them they’d be safe here. Isworeit. And now their lives are hanging in the balance.
Next is Rhosyn, and the sight of her knocks the air out of me. The fire, the confident swagger that’s always accompanied the beta female is nowhere to be seen. Her walk is stiff and uncoordinated. Her arms dangle at her sides like they no longer belong to her. Her curly hair, which had been pulled into a bun atop her head when I left them, is now half undone, strands falling into her green eyes and around her neck. It’s the hair of someone who put up one hell of a fight while she could. A fight she shouldn’t be part of. She should be with her mate, far from here. Safe.
And then there’s Seren. My other half.
She’s the only one who moves with purpose, the only one seeminglyawake. Her light blonde hair is also a tangled mess, and from here I can just make out the trickle of dried bloodtrailing from the corner of her mouth to her elfin chin. From a punch, no doubt. Seren wouldn’t have gone down quietly.
Her ice blue eyes snap to her daughter the moment she enters the room, widening as Ivey lets out another whimper. The tremor in her jaw tells me she’s barely holding it together, but she’sstill with me. Watching and calculating.
Malvina had said it herself when she spoke of her silver-tongued sister Evara.
Charmers are immune to compulsion.That means the others are under a spell. I glance between the two new witches, my attention settling on the smiley one. I mark her as the compeller instantly. There’s something hungry in the way she watches my friends, like they’re her favorite toys and she’s brought them out to play.
Malvina, who I’ve marked as the leader of the terrible trio, catches my flicker of realization. “We had to get creative with that one,” she says, nodding toward Seren. She jostles Ivey a little on her hip, making the baby whine. “This little darling woke up from her slumber at just the right moment. Fortuitous timing. Couldn’t have planned it better myself.”
A snarl more beast than human rips through the tension in the air. Seren. Her eyes have shifted into those of her wolf’s as her animal half pushes forward, every fiber within her desperate to protect her pup.
“Give me my daughter,” my best friend demands through clenched teeth. I’ve seen her unwavering fight before—for our Nightingales, for me—but this is different. This ismother. Pure, blinded instinct. Her hands twitch like she might leap, and my heart stutters with panic, afraid she won’t wait. I silently plead with her.Please, Ser. Not yet.
We’re already at a disadvantage here, acting rashly won’t help matters.
