“You can. But not from the outside.” She looks at each of us. “The spirit is inside her mind. Wrapped around her consciousness. If you attack the body, you’ll kill her too.”
“Then how?” Baylin growls.
“She has to kill it herself. From the inside.”
“She’s trapped,” Callum says. “She can’t fight back.”
“She can if you give her a reason to.” The witch stands. “The spirit feeds on doubt, fear, self-hatred. But love? Belonging? Those are poison to it. You need to remind her who she is. What she’s fighting for.”
“How do we do that if we can’t reach her?” I ask, frustrated, defeated.
“You reach her through the bond. Even severed, the mate bond doesn’t break completely. It’s still there. Buried. You just have to dig deep enough.”
She disappears inside her cottage and returns with a vial of silver liquid.
“This will amplify your bond. Let you speak directly into your omega’s mind. But…” She holds up a hand. “It’s dangerous. The spirit will feel you coming. It will fight back. And if you’re not strong enough, it will consume you too.”
“We’re strong enough,” Baylin growls, eyes flashing wolf.
She smiles grimly. “We’ll see. Now go. You don’t have much time. If the spirit finds a new vessel, it won’t need her anymore. It’ll kill her and take full physical form.”
We run.
Halfway back to the castle, Callum shifts mid-stride. His massive wolf form, tawny and gold, tears through the forest. Arkan’s dark brown fur rippling as he picks up speed.
Three wolves. Hunting as a pack.
We’re coming for our mate.
We hit the castle at full speed, giant wolves storming through the hallways. Servants scatter. Guards freeze.
Hilda’s door is locked.
Baylin slams into it, and the wood splinters.
We pour inside, three giant beasts filling her workspace.
Hilda’s standing at the workbench, hands glowing with dark magic, a new mirror resting on the surface.
She turns to us.
Three wolves, hackles raised, teeth bared, ready to rip the darkness out of her.
The spirit wearing her face smiles. Cold. Wrong.
“Three little wolves,” it purrs. “Come to play?”
Callum is the first one to shift back, standing mighty, naked and furious. He fucking roars, “We’ve come to get our mate back!”
Arkan and I are next, flanking him.
The spirit laughs with Hilda’s voice. “She’s mine. Like she always was.”
“Bullshit.” Callum uncorks the vial the witch gave us. “She belongs with us. And we’re taking her back.”
We each take a sip, passing the small bottle quickly. The silver liquid burns going down.
Then our bond fucking explodes to life. Not just amplified.Blazing.
