Malrik was there. He intervened at every chance, and I doubt he’s done just because he lost his plaything.
And his lack of presence is more than bothersome.
The more time that passes, the more twisted my thoughts become when I think of him.
Malrik should’ve caught up to us by now. He should’ve been tearing through the mountain, ripping through his wards, or forcing The Keep after me like a wrathful storm king.
But there’s nothing.
No tremor.
No whisper of his magic.
Not even a thread of the fury I felt when I unmade his spell.
Which means he’s waiting.
And that’s worse.
Wolf rumbles darkly inside me.He’ll move when it benefits him most.
Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.
I tense slightly when Archie’s nails scratch at my collarbone. He’s been silent since we got close to the pack house. I expected him to remain on guard like the rest of them, but it’s nice to see him normal-sized again, and snuggled around my neck.
Even if he’s holding on like this is the last time he might see me, and remaining quieter than normal.
The hall narrows, torchlight flickering against Cade’s profile. My fingers brush his arm—just lightly—and relief shudders through me when our bond flares warm and sure in response. The ache of being separated from him for so long isn’t going to be dulled for long.
But Cade isn’t the only thing drawing my eye.
Ahead of us, Marius walks with a careful, measured gait—glancing my way every minute or so as if he’s afraid he’ll turn a corner and I’ll vanish. His eyes linger like he’s memorizing me all over again.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
I want to ask him a thousand questions about my mother, about their past, about how he handled losing both of us.
But Liz comes first.
Cade refused to tell me any details of what Elias shared with him about her condition, and that worries me most. My imagination is hopefully far worse than the reality.
“How much further until we’re there?” I ask when we get down to a basement level, turning more corners.
“She’s right up—” Thane is cut off by a screech.
“If you think you’re going to poke me with that, you’d better hope you can run faster than me.”
Liz.
She’s okay.
At least she sounds that way.
I rush forward, holding Archie in place with one hand as I hurry. Cade stays with me, moving slightly ahead to open the door first. He blocks my way through, likely checking the room before he lets me enter, but I don’t give him long.
I shove past him and stop dead in my tracks.
Liz is sitting on the examination table—hair a wrecked, tangly curtain, face pale as polished marble, one leg still halfway encased in a thawing block of ice—and has her fangs on full display. She’s definitely not holding back with her threats today.
