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Seven threads, stretching taut from my soul to theirs, gossamer-thin but unbreakable.And hungry.So hungry.

Nikolai’s words echoed again, louder now in the emptiness.It was never about claiming.It was about offering.

I closed my eyes, feeling the threads pulse against my skin.They had given themselves to me… their bodies, their pleasure, their desperate hope.But I had not given everything in return.Not my heart.Not the part of me that could shoulder their centuries of agony, their brokenness, their grief, and still call it love.

Could I bear it?Could I open myself wide enough to take it all in… and not shatter?

I didn’t know.

I couldn't trust anyone… Not my father who kept bringing evil women in the house… and not the woman who finally poisoned him to steal my heart and the Winterborne bloodline.

But as I sat there, surrounded by the scent of them, my body still marked by their hands and mouths, I knew one thing with bone-deep certainty.

I would try.

For them.

For us.

For whatever we were becoming.

CHAPTER10

Ishould have known the stillness was a warning.The forest had grown too quiet, the air thick with pressure, not peace.Even the wind had gone still.I sat near the dying fire, curled in the blanket nest Evander had made, trying not to tense at every sound.The nightdress clung to my skin, thin and useless against the cold creeping under the door.Seven pulses hummed at the edge of my mind… present but distant.Watching.Waiting.

The bond between us was muted, like something holding its breath.They hadn't spoken through it since the sun had gone down.No reassurances.No thoughts.Only tension.I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and stared at the fire.The danger wasn’t inside the cabin, but I felt it press against the walls.Something waited just beyond the trees.

I'd forgotten to get more wood from the woodpile.On my last trip, I'd only grabbed a few small logs to get through the day thinking my mates would return tonight.They had not.

A branch snapped.Sharp.Intentional.

I turned toward the door a second too late.

It exploded inward with a deafening crack.Splinters flew across the floor.Cold air surged in.

They came in fast.Five.Maybe six.Hunters dressed in leathers etched with dark sigils, their faces painted in ash, weapons gleaming with silver and bone.The air reeked of magic… old, dirty, violent.One of them smiled.“Found you, witch-bitch.”

I dove for the fireplace, reaching for the iron poker.My fingers grazed it.Hands grabbed my hair and yanked me back.I screamed, twisted, kicked.Nails raked skin.I tasted blood.The hunter cursed and slammed me against the floor.

“She fights like a feral beast,” one muttered.

“Chain her.Quickly,” another snapped.

A silver muzzle clamped over my mouth.My scream choked off.The taste was metallic and final.Chains wrapped around my wrists… cold, glowing, hissing against my skin.Suppression magic.I bucked and twisted.It didn’t matter.

“She doesn’t need to be unharmed for the ritual,” came a woman’s voice from the doorway.Calm.Cruel.“She just needs to be breathing.”

They dragged me through the cabin, my feet catching on the rough wood.The fire sputtered behind me.The open door let in the dark.

And then I saw them.

All seven.

Naked.Tense.Magically Restrained.Furious.

They looked ready to murder.

But not to the hunters.