He was fighting. Hard. Blood dripped from his temple, one eye swelling shut, but he was still standing. Still trying.
They had him.
Two men holding his arms back, another landing a brutal hit to his ribs. He bucked against their grip, his mouth open in a shout she couldn’t hear.
Her vision blurred.
Her limbs burned.
The hands on her ankles tightened.
Then nothing.
Chapter 19
Elora
The inside of the barn reeked of mildew and decay, the scent of rotted wood and old hay clinging to every surface. Dust floated lazily through shafts of sunlight that broke through the cracked slats in the walls, catching the beams. The floor was scattered with forgotten tools—rusted scythes, a splintered rake, a dented bucket lying on its side in a dark corner. A ladder led to the loft above, the rungs weathered and warped, some cracked through entirely.
“Stay quiet,” Rell whispered, tilting his chin toward the ladder. His voice was low, barely a breath.
Elora nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, and followed him up. The ladder protested with every step, but she climbed quickly, her palms sweating as they slipped slightly on the rough wood.
At the top, she crouched beside him in the loft, the floor beneath them layered with brittle hay that crunched softly. The boards groaned when they shifted weight, and a few of them flexed alarmingly. The space was small, claustrophobic, but it gave them a view of the barn’s entrance and the sunlit fields beyond through the slats in the wall. The shadows made them hard to spot from outside, but gave them just enough of a view.
Rell looked over at her, eyes catching a sliver of light that turned them almost gold. “This is where your... uh, cat powers come in handy.”
Elora blinked. “Mywhat?”
“You know.” He made a vague pawing gesture with one hand. “Claws, glowing eyes, predator vision. That whole feral thing you do.”
Her frown deepened. “It’s not—” She stopped, closing her mouth with a sharp exhale.You know what? Not worth it.
“Just use it,” he said, the smirk slipping into something more serious. “If he’s out there, I want you to spot him before I do.”
She glanced down at the band wrapped around her finger. It shimmered faintly in the light, almost innocent-looking. She didn’t want to use it. Still hated the sting. Still hated what it turned her into—even if it kept her alive.
But this was the plan. Her part of it.
She pressed the ringed hand against her left shoulder—same place Thorn always had—and grit her teeth.
The jolt hit immediately.
Pain lanced up her arm like lightning, searing and swift, stealing her breath. Her muscles jerked. Her spine bowed forward slightly. And then it came—the shift.
Her claws unsheathed first, inky black and razor-edged. Her breath hitched as her muscles tightened, joints flexing with a strange, new strength. Her hearing sharpened so fast it hurt. Every rustle in the hay, every whisper of the old barn settling was suddenly as loud as footsteps. The light sharpened. The smells—rot, dirt, hay, oil—hit her like afist to the face.
She braced herself against the wall, her heart hammering as her pupils narrowed into slits.
“Well?”
Elora closed her eyes.
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Just breathed through it. Focused. Let the world sharpen around her until she wasn’t listening for sounds—shewassound. She wasn’t looking for movement—shefeltthe tremor of it in the air.
The wind brushed over the field. She tasted it on the back of her tongue—grass, sweat, copper. A wagon rumbled far off, its wooden frame squeaking, iron wheels groaning against packed dirt. That wasn’t what concerned her.
There. Beneath it.
