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The cages are barely big enough to sit up in, never mind lie down, and from the marks on their bodies and dirt, it’s clear they’ve been here a while. The smell is so overwhelming, I know I will never be free of it. “So many are empty. Does that mean⁠—"

They’ve probably been sold, she finishes in our heads, loud and clear for once. Wait, I see some movement.

She hurries down the line to the very end, where there are a couple of larger cages. There are at least eight girls who are alive. The one closest to me can’t be any older than three, and my stomach rolls at the idea of what they might be selling her into. A tail snakes around her tiny body, and two giant eyes peer up at me, glassy and afraid. My heart aches as I slip down to my knees in front of her.

“Shh, it’s okay, little one,” I murmur, but she snaps at the bars before backing away, shrouded by her hair. He glares at me as her hair transforms. She seems to shrink, and when I blink, the young girl is gone, and in her place is a strange and horrifying mix of a wolf and a girl. She’s trapped between and in pain, but still clawing at the bars.

Looking up at Ferol, I feel anger contort my face. “We have to help them.”

“Setting them free here would only ensure their deaths. There’s nothing for hundreds of miles, and they wouldn’t trust us to escort them. They aren’t kids anymore. They lost their innocence, you can see it, and we need a professional who can find them homes where they can heal and learn to control whatever has been done to them.”

“I know someone,” Bram says suddenly. “Maybe that is why she was born or won the war. It’s hard to tell which came first.” He blinks, and the gold is gone from his eyes. “Tate is a hunter. I have her number.”

“Do I ask how?” Ferol questions.

“I saw it, just then, all her life. She’s important, and she’s also helping and will help a lot of people, just like these girls. That’s who we should call. More than their futures rely on it.”

“Not creepy at all,” Raiden mutters. “I hate when he does that time shit.”

“We can’t just leave them here.” That cuts through their chatter, and Ferol nods, looking around before hurrying upstairs. When she returns, she has clothes, blankets, food, and water, which must have been stored upstairs. She carefully lays it out before she jerks her head, indicating for us to follow her, so we back out of the door and huddle in the hallway. Ferol closes the door, and the metal clicks into place, then she hits a button in her hand. All the cages swing open with a buzz. The little girls are hesitant at first before they slowly venture out.

“Come on, let’s contact Tate. We can keep our eyes on them safely here.” Heading back upstairs, we follow Ferol’s advice, and she finds a mobile from one of the dead mages. She has to try a couple of times with various dismembered hands to get it unlocked, but when she does, she hands it to Bram.

He slowly types in the number and hands it back. Ferol puts it on speaker and backs away. Not long after, there is a deep, groaning voice. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Is this Tate?”

“No, obviously, who is this?” There’s a slap, and then a sharp female voice speaks next.

“This is Tate. Can I help you?”

“My name is Oriana Draven, daughter of the mage Hel Draven.” Tate inhales sharply, but other than that, she doesn’t give anything away.

“I see, and how can I help you, Oriana?”

“Ferol, please. I need your help with some young girls who were captured and are in trouble. My mate told me you could help.”

“Send me your address. We are just finishing up a job here, then will be on our way. How bad is it?” Tate asks, her voice hard.

“Bad, very bad,” Ferol whispers, hanging her head in shame. “We need all the help we can get.”

“Understood. Text this number with the address, and we will be there by first light.” She hangs up. Ferol struggles but finally figures out how to send our location.

“What do we do while we wait?” I mutter.

“Hopefully get changed,” Emrys deadpans. “You look like idiots.”

Well, fuck.

We did, in fact, get changed. There was a stockpile of spells in the back room Ferol found. She very carefully avoided some, in fact most, before finding what she needed and handing them out. Now, dressed in trousers and a shirt, I feel more comfortable. Our mate looks good enough to eat in some baggy utility trousers and black boots. Her chest is coated in a tight, short-sleeved black shirt, exposing her abs, but she seems happier to move around in that rather than the dress. With little else to do, she turns her attention to the mages we left alive.

You’re up, big guy, she instructs me in my head, sending me images of what she wants. It’s crude and choppy, but I understand her meaning. I take them by surprise when I stomp in front of them, waking them from their naps. Their eyes snap open and widen in fear. I understand then why she picked me. My size instantly intimidates them.

“We want the list of those who have been sold and where,” I demand. “Where is it?”

A mage points at a screen, and I narrow my eyes. “The list, you fool!”

“It’s not like we print it and keep it. We aren’t dumb or ninety. It’s on the system there, idiot,” he grumbles as I glare.