He slips his hands beneath her, laboriously lifts her up, then tosses her into the woods behind us. I lose sight of her as shetumbles away and the van door slams shut. I'm still screaming for her.
Then the driver is back, and he peels away.
I don't know where I'm headed, but I hang onto the fact that Andrea will be okay. Joey will be okay.
I'm worried about Grayson and Orion. I don't know where the witch is taking me or what's coming.
My head feels foggy, but I'm still healing from when Stance punched me.
I'm alone again. I know they didn't mean to leave me like this, but… they did.
Andrea said they'll save me. But…
How?
My skin is hot. Itchy. The heat spills out of me. It's mostly discomfort, so far. Just discomfort. Last time, it took most of the day before the real pain started. How many hours do I have left?
I glance out the window near the driver. It's nearly dark.
I don't have any safe place to panic, and I don't know how much time I have left before it all hits me. Delirium, fever high enough to kill a person… what else did Grayson say?
I can't think straight.
The clock is ticking down.
What if they can't find me?
Fuck.
Fuck.
Chapter 39: Silas
Ialready know this plan is going to shit before we even start, but no fucking way am I backing out now. I won't let Lily either. This is it. She's not pregnant, they have no reason to keep her alive.
And I can't stay here one more day. One moreminute.
Tracy, the seer, has left the compound. I overheard them yesterday. Tracy didn't see me or Lily in her visions, but she saw Mona. Nothing more specific than that, though. Enough to put them on alert.
The pain fuels me as I saw through the silver bars with my claws. It nearly burns them clean off before my skin regenerates. Lily offers to help, but I refuse. She'll need all her strength against Deidre.
Once I cut through the bars around the lock, my hands are mangled and bloody. They fucking ache, but are healing, pushing the silver out of my bloodstream. More scars. The wolf silhouette on my hand looks more like a cat. It's fine.
No matter how much the magic rakes at my insides with every step outside our cage, as I push through the sludge of magic as it yearns to hold me back, I keep moving.
The height of the full moon is close. And some new fucking witch reinforced the walls this morning, someone I've never met before. Which means I'm not immune to his magic. But he made a mistake—even though it hurts, I'm able to push through his shields. They're weak.
Up the stairs, we pause at the door.
Lily whispers, "I think they're all outside."
"Be quiet while I listen," I hiss.
She huffs and rolls her eyes at me, and I appreciate that I don't intimidate her anymore, but don't say so. She's become a little bit like a bratty sister.
The full moon is a night of regeneration for the witches. They worship the Moon Goddess just as much as wolves do. More, even, and spend each full moon when she's closest to us, when the veil is thinnest, refueling their magics.
None of the witches would miss that to babysit a couple of useless, spelled wolves like Lily and me, so we should be largely ignored for the night.
