“I can’t lose her too,” Prudence chokes out, clutching the baby closer, as if she can fold her small body around her and make them both disappear. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
The vision explodes outward, showing me flash after flash of Prudence’s torment. The guards threatening her baby. The sessions where she’s forced to rip apart other prisoners’ minds. The nights she cries herself to sleep, hating what she’s become.
And underneath it all, a desperate message meant only for me.
“If you escape—if anyone escapes—please. Please find her.”
I slam back into reality with such force that the chair tips backward, my restraints cutting deeper into my wrists as I crash to the floor.
“Lithia!” Prudence cries out, her mask slipping for just a moment before she catches herself.
“Get her up,” Jim orders Bob, who hauls me back into position with rough hands.
I’m shaking uncontrollably, the visions still burning through my mind. Adelaide’s message. Prudence’s plea. The knowledge that there are others here, other innocents being used against their will.
Prudence showed me weres, witches, warlocks, and fae. This is bigger than Thaddeus. This goes far beyond any one pack. This is an evil that has spread unchecked.
Until now.
“Well?” Jim demands. “Ready to cooperate?”
I look up at Prudence, meeting her terrified gaze. She did more than show me my fears—she shared her own. Told me about her daughter. Begged for help.
“I need water,” I gasp, buying time while my mind reels.
Jim nods to Bob, who produces a cup. The water is warm and tastes of rust, but it helps clear some of the fog from my head.
“The safe houses,” Jim prompts.
I lick the rust-tasting water off my lips, feeling the sting where they’re split. My body is shaking, every nerve screaming, but Prudence has lit a cold fuse within me.
I need to stop this. And to stop this, I need to survive.
“Old mine shaft,” I say finally. “Fifteen miles north of the main den. There’s a hidden entrance behind a waterfall.”
It’s not a lie, exactly. There is an old mine shaft there. We just don’t use it as a safe house—it’s been flooded for decades.
Jim makes a note. “How many can it hold?”
“Fifty wolves, last I checked. More if needed.” Again, not a lie. It’s what it held before the floods came and filled it with muck.
“Supplies?”
“I don’t know. That’s not my department.”
All truths that wouldn’t harm anyone. Let them waste time searching for something that doesn’t exist.
“Good,” Jim says, clearly satisfied. “See how easy that was? Tomorrow we’ll discuss the emergency evacuation routes.”
They unchain me from the chair, leaving my permanent silver restraints in place. Bob shoves me toward the back of my cell, and I collapse onto the thin mattress, every muscle in my body screaming. The silver burns are getting worse, and my head pounds from the vision-induced trauma.
But I have information now. Adelaide’s message. Prudence’s plea. The knowledge that there are others here who need help.
Gods, what a mess.
They haul the chair out and slam the door shut, leaving me to the darkness.
I listen as they move down the hall then stop.
