A spelled room that Iris revealed to us after the battle is where Taren’s being held. It sits at the far end of the main hallway, behind a plain wooden door that looks laughably ordinary if you don’t know better. The magic woven through it by one of NightShade’s past patrons whispers against my skin, faint but constant, like a heartbeat under the surface. It’s containment magic—old, expensive, and dangerous to the wrong people.
Liz’s gaze flicks to the lock etched with runes hanging against the door. “Still in place,” she murmurs.
I grunt, twisting the handle. Pinpricks of energy surge through my palm, identifying me. The magic pulses once, recognizing me, thanks to Iris’s approval, before unlocking with a faint click.
Inside, the room is bare except for a single bed and a small light on the ceiling. There aren’t even any windows here. Taren lies motionless on the bed, her wrists bound in the dull metal cuffs that shimmer faintly with spellwork.
She looks smaller than I remember. Older, too. Her once-dark hair is streaked with white, her skin pale from blood loss and energy depletion.
For a moment, I almost pity her.
I’d rather eat her for dinner, my wolf growls, having no taste for anything soft right now.
Memories flash through my mind, courtesy of my inner beast. The screams, the chaos, and the way the council’s arrogance helped start it all.
Any thoughts of kindness, no matter what I remember about this woman, go right out the window.
A deep-seated roar builds low in my chest, vibrating my body, before bellowing out of me. “Taren!”
If she wasn’t awake before, she certainly is now.
The older woman jerks violently, coughing and gasping as her dark purple eyes fly open. When she doesn’t speak—when she juststarespast us, dazed and glassy-eyed—I yell again.
“Look at me,” I snarl. The sound comes out more wolf than man, rough enough to make the light flicker.
Taren flinches like she’s been struck, eyes squeezing shut before snapping open again. “Don’t—don’t shout,” she rasps, voice brittle as parchment. “My head pounds with every sound in this room. I can’t even grasp my own thoughts above the cacophony.”
“Try harder,” I growl. “I need you to tell me who the hell you were working for. Who took my Rowan?”
Her gaze shifts toward Liz, then back to me. “The Ashmark?”
“Mymate,” I correct, each word edged sharp. “You and the rest of that pathetic wolf council called for hercapture. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten what happened next.”
She sits up, her strength growing by the second. “Do you forget who you’re speaking to, boy?”
I close the distance between us and grip the front of her already ruined shirt. “Doyouforget? I may have forsaken my seat on the council, but that wasn’t becauseIwas the problem.”
Her gaze narrows in defiance. “Are you sure about that?”
“Fucking positive.” I shove her back into the bed, her cuffs rattling from the force. “Now, tell me who The Keep is.”
This has her covering her ears and groaning. “Don’t say that name.”
“The Keep?” This time, Liz steps forward. “Why, Taren? What hold doesThe Keephave over you? What was compelling enough for you to put Shadowyn at risk of losing its alpha?”
She rocks back and forth, shaking the mattress and making grunting sounds. I think it’s just for show until I notice blood seeping from between her fingers that are covering her ears.
“Don’t say it again,” I tell Liz. Not because I don’t want Taren to feel the pain I have since Rowan disappeared, but because this woman is the last hope we have to get information, and she’ll do us no good dead.
At least not yet.
“We won’t say the name, but you need to give us something, Taren,” I demand, staying next to the bed. “Youremember something.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, wiping her hands over the white comforter, streaking it with crimson. “I’m dead either way.”
“I won’t kill you if I get what I want.” That’s a promise I shouldn’t make, but I’m desperate.
Plus, Liz is still perfectly capable of the task.
