It's okay if she hates me. Better scared and alive, and it worked.
She's safe.
I can't fucking believe it, and I didn't realize how much tension I was holding, not knowing. For once, finally, some good fucking news.
I listen in and catch more snippets of conversation. They're regrouping, deciding how to infiltrate Silent Peak. Worry gnaws at me—and jealousy, that Gray and Mona are together—but I stuff it down like everything else. My brother might be a prick, but he's a militant prick. He'll keep his mate safe.
I'll need to listen in more often while they come up with more detailed plans.
For now, I pluck through their scents like threads of a sweater, taking my time to unravel and commit it all to memory. Tracy is here, I note in surprise. Deidre's half-sister.
They hide their relationship—most of the coven doesn't even know they're related. I know because it's easy to scent.
Sometimes I swear Deidre's forgotten what I am.
Forgotten that it took seventeen of her coven to take me down. She targeted me because of my alpha power. Knowing I was always at odds with my clan, with my brother, put the odds in her favor of eventually getting me alone.
But I wasn't an easy target.
It's been so long since she's felt my true power, she's forgotten who I really am. She's going to remember, soon.
I'm not sure what to think of Tracy's presence. She's not a member of this coven. She's a seer, less skilled in practical magic, and doesn't come around often.
Our escape plan is cobbled together. What we don't need is Tracy unearthing it and fucking things up for us. I glance at Lily.
I won't share the news I overheard. I don't need her falling apart, not now.
And so, my wolf practices. He scents, he listens. He stretches. He fucking basks, and the relief is so real, so palpable, I feel better than I have in years. Stronger. More like myself.
I'm almost ready.
"Nine," Lily says out loud, before her lips go back to wordless whispers, counting up. It's been nine minutes.
Not nearly enough. And I don't hear anyone coming. My wolf urges me to wait, to give him more time.
We can't chance it. We have one shot at this. If they catch us…
I sense his reluctant agreement.
And when Lily says "Ten," we shift back. Naked and panting on all fours, I listen for any movement. When I hear none, I get dressed in my filthy clothes. Bathroom breaks are monitored, and I've been shaving my head with a blade. It goes to show how much they think they've broken me, that Pierre hands me a fucking blade.
I convinced Deidre to give Lily clothes and a blanket a while back, but that's it, aside from Pierre's periodic visits with raw steak and water bottles. Not nearly enough sustenance for one shifter, let alone two. I had to remind Deidre she is, after all, hoping to get the little delta pregnant, and a little comfort and extra food would help her master plan. She has no proof I'm not fucking Lily, she just assumes I wouldn't be able to resist a naked woman in heat.
"Let's go over the plan again," Lily whispers.
It's unnecessary, but it makes her feel better, and while I'm not normally one to accommodate another's feelings, in this instance, I relent. I need her as much as she needs me.
"Your shifter power—it's really coming back?"
I nod. Since I've been able to shift again, my senses are increasing, too.
If I listen carefully, I can hear a crow foraging outside these walls. A mouse's heartbeat, on the other side of the stone at our backs. He scurries, hunting for food. Minute details I couldn't parcel out before. It's all becoming so clear.
I hadn't realized how much my senses had dulled over the years. I flex my hand, almost feeling my wolf's claws beneath the skin, ready to break free at a moment's notice. Years of dormancy, shedding like a molting snake.
"When they prepare for the next full moon, we'll escape before they circle. Are you sure about this plan?" Lily asks anxiously. She's skeletal now, skin stretched over bone,hollowed out by near-starvation and the magically induced heat they keep putting her through.
I've spent entire nights fighting her off as she claws at me, at herself, begging for relief. It's impossible to give her privacy while she gets herself off, writhing on the hard ground, screaming, crying in pain and pleasure.
