Page 5

Chapter Two

D r. Maya Sorin

Quentin’s eyes are wide in shock and fear. “Y–You—”

“Traitor,” the shifter says, his voice hoarse from disuse.

Quentin goes pale. “H–How is this possible?”

“Traitor,” the naked man repeats before thrusting his free hand into Quentin’s chest. I watch him yank out his still-beating heart, his arm now covered in blood. The large shifter gurgles blood before being released and slumping to the ground.

He’s dead.

My own heart pounding, I slowly turn my head to gawk at the silver-haired shifter. He’s not looking at me but down at the dead body. He drops the heart on the ground, and then finally, his eyes meet mine.

I open my mouth to beg him not to kill me, but when he looks at me, I feel a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach—a feeling of knowing, a warmth that I’ve never felt before.

Time stands still as we gaze at each other, this undeniable connection rattling me to my very core. My heart is quivering inside my chest, and I try to keep my wits about me. This isn’t the time to be hallucinating. I swallow, silently telling myself to get a grip.

“We have to get out of here.” Why does my voice sound so husky?

He approaches me, and I immediately gesture with my hands. “I’m not the enemy. I’ve been trying to help you.”

He doesn’t stop. I close my eyes in fear only to feel his hot breath on my forehead. When I risk looking up at him, I see him sniffing my head wounds.

“You are hurt.”

The gravelly texture of his voice makes me realize it’s hard for him to speak. I look around, but there’s no water. I gave the last bottle to him hours ago.

“Look, we have to get out of here. They are twenty guards outside this place. I don’t know where ‘outside’ is, but I know the way in. I memorized the steps.”

I’m babbling now, and he watches me intently.

His eyes turn toward the open cell door, and he begins walking in that direction.

I take a few steps, but my head is spinning and I stagger.

I start to fall, but before I hit the ground, he catches me with an arm around my waist. His eyes hold mine, and I feel the same stab of attraction, one that has no place in our current situation.

I think Quentin hit me too hard. I’ve finally gone crazy.

“Weak.”

I feel a little insulted at the naked man’s comment, but before I know it, he picks me up and hoists me onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

I would protest if my injured body didn’t hurt so much.

As he carries me out of the cell, I dimly wonder how he’s able to walk with such ease.

However, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A wave of nausea hits me, and I realize I have a concussion. I can’t afford to pass out right now, so I force my eyes open and say, “I know the way out of here. Not that door! Keep going straight. There’s another set of stairs, at the very end.”

It feels like I first arrived here eons ago, but as my companion carries me along, I remember the steps that Cassian took that day.

Each step, each curve, each turn. I remember it all.

I guide the shifter to the staircase, and I feel my head ache with every jolt as he walks up the steps.

At one point, his knees nearly buckle, and my heart sinks.

“I can walk. I promise, I can. Let me down.”

He grunts and holds me tighter.

However, when we reach the top of the stairs, we run into a problem. There’s a large, iron door with no opening except a keyhole. It’s locked.

The shifter glances at me, and I mumble, “I did not anticipate this.”

He shuffles from one foot to the other before carefully lowering me to my feet. Before I can stop him, he rams his shoulder against the door.

“W–What are you doing?” I cry out in shock. “You’ll hurt yourself!”

He keeps doing it.

“Stop it!” I try to hold him back, but he shakes me off. I sink weakly to the ground.

A few seconds later, I hear the door creak. And then a louder sound. He takes a few steps back and hurls himself at the door one last time. It breaks open, and he walks outside to freedom. I struggle to my feet and follow him, only for dismay to fill me.

We are looking at a vast, open plain. There’s nothing for miles.

“Now what? No matter where we go, they’ll track us down. We won’t be able to get far enough away before they find us.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I hear shouting. Bright lights suddenly flood the dark plains, and I realize our absence has been noted.

Shit.

“Run!” I scream. “We have to run!”

But he doesn’t listen. He takes one step forward and looks around.

“What are you waiting for!” I shout at him. “Don’t make things easy for them, you idiot! Run!”

He ignores me, and when I try to hobble away, he pulls me back, shoving me behind him. When I look at his face in disbelief, ready to chastise him again, I notice that he’s focused on something in the distance. I follow his gaze and see large wolves running in our direction.

Twenty? Forty?

No, now they seem to be in the hundreds.

“We are so fucked,” I mumble, dread creeping up within me.

He turns to look at me, and his body begins to shudder.

His transformation is slow, and I see every inch of it: bones breaking, skin disappearing under fur.

It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed—and the most fascinating.

I saw Finn, Leanna’s son, shift multiple times as he was growing up, but his transformation was always very quick.

Then I realize what this shifter is about to do. I block his path, my arms wide open. “Are you crazy? You can’t take them all on! Look at the state of you!”

He grunts, nudging me aside with his nose. There’s bloodlust in his eyes, a fierce glint as he looks over my shoulder at the approaching wolves. It makes me wonder if he’s after a slice of his own revenge.

“Wait!” I pat my pockets. There was something else I took when I left the lab earlier.

Something I completely forgot about. It’s a blue vial, containing a liquid similar to an energy drink.

I had been planning to give it to him once he shifted back, but it slipped my mind with the way it all happened.

If he’s going to fight the wolves that are gaining on us, he’s going to need all the help he can get.

I unscrew the top and hold it out toward him. “Open your mouth.”

He doesn’t hesitate, immediately obeying my command. I throw the liquid into his mouth and toss the bottle aside. He glances at me before breaking into a run. He lets out a howl, and I gulp.

I take a few steps away from the door we came out of, not wanting someone to attack me from there. Turning around, I finally take in the building I’ve been held captive in for more than six months now.

It’s a mansion. A sprawling, Victorian-style mansion.

We exited through what must have been the servants’ entrance.

My voice gets stuck in my throat as I try to call out to the silver wolf getting farther and farther away from me.

There are shifters in this house who will drag me back inside if I stick around here any longer.

As I move, trying to follow the wolf, I feel agony with each breath. I’m sure I’ve cracked my head and injured a few ribs, considering how Quentin was tossing me around.

The silver wolf has already started attacking the enemy.

I don’t know why nobody from the mansion is giving chase. When the lights came on, the alarm clearly spread.

At some point, my strength gives way, and I fall down. The dizziness is overpowering.

Despair fills me. How am I supposed to escape when I can’t even walk? What if the silver wolf decides I’m not worth helping? What if he leaves me behind?

I’ve tried so hard to remain positive, to stay determined through these past six months. I’ve held on through sheer fucking will, refusing to let my circumstances consume me, believing I would escape. But as soon as the taste of freedom is on the tip of my tongue, I feel myself faltering.

Still on the ground, I crawl now, moving toward the fighting happening ahead of me.

The silver wolf is fast and strong. Despite how weakened he is, he’s holding his own. He is a vicious fighter, bulldozing through the enemy like they are nothing but annoying gnats. I watch with bated breath, realizing that the difference in their strength is astronomical.

He has to win. I’ve done what I can. Everything else is up to him now. Hopefully, he remembers me and will take me with him.

My heart is beating rapidly, each pulse thundering between my ears as I watch him. He moves fluidly among the enemy, like a dancer. There are no abrupt moves, no hesitation. He aims to kill.

And suddenly, they’re gone. He’s the only one still standing.

I crawl up to him. He takes a step away from me, and I say weakly, “You can’t—You can’t leave me behind.”

He keeps moving, stepping through the bodies.

Anguish crawls into my throat. “If you leave me behind, I’ll kill you!”

Just then, I hear shouting from the mansion. They’re coming. They’re coming for me, for him.

My lips quiver in fear as I look back at the wolf, only to realize that he is standing beside me now. How did he—How did he move so fast?

Using his teeth, he lifts me by the collar of my shirt and tosses me into the air. I let out a short scream before landing on his back, the wind getting knocked out of me.

He grunts and begins to run. Instinctively, my fingers curl into his fur, and I hold on for dear life.

I don’t know where he is headed, but I’m going to count one win at a time.

He is so fast that I have to bury my face in his fur to prevent myself from getting lashed by the wind. My head is also aching so badly that I feel like I want to pass out now.