Page 23 of Curses and Casualties (Hunters Hollow #3)

Georgia

T he rental car Amara procured for us smells like stale cigarettes and broken dreams, but at least it runs. I’m wedged in the passenger seat, studying the topographic map spread across my lap while Ryan navigates the winding mountain roads leading north from Sugar City.

“According to this, we should hit the turnoff for Magnus’s place in about an hour,” I say, tracing the route with my finger.

The geological features fascinate me despite everything.

Volcanic activity created these steep ridges, and I can see where glaciers carved deep valleys thousands of years ago.

The scientist in me notes the unstable terrain, prone to landslides.

Perfect for someone who doesn’t want visitors.

“Assuming Nicolai’s directions are accurate,” Ryan mutters, white-knuckling the steering wheel as we round another blind curve.

In the backseat, Scarlett shifts again. She’s been restless for a solid hour now, unable to find a comfortable position. “Are we there yet?” she asks, her voice tight with something beyond simple impatience.

“Same answer as the last three times,” Ethan says gently. “Soon.”

“This is ridiculous.” Scarlett presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I feel like... like there’s electricity under my skin. Getting worse every mile.”

I twist around to study her. Her face is flushed, a sheen of sweat on her forehead despite the cool mountain air. Her breathing is shallow, rapid. “Scar, what exactly does it feel like?”

“Like...” She struggles for words, hands clenching and unclenching. “Like my wolf is trying to claw its way out, but not to shift. To run. Toward something. It’s this pull in my chest, like someone tied a rope around my ribs and they’re just... yanking.”

Ryan catches my eye, and I feel his alarm spike.

Wolf calls wolf, Luna murmurs.

The road climbs higher, and the scenery shifts from dense pine forests to more exposed terrain. Snow dusts the peaks above us, and the air grows thin enough that I crack my window despite the cold.

“There’s something else,” Scarlett says suddenly. “My wolf... she’s not acting right. She’s usually so steady, but now she’s pacing, whining. Like she senses something is wrong.”

“Maybe it’s the altitude,” Ethan suggests, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

“Or maybe we’re just driving toward certain death,” Scarlett returns.

“I know you’re in pain right now, Scar. But rein it in,” Ryan barks.

‘Should we get her a doctor or something?’ I ask Ryan through our bond, and he gives me an imperceptible head shake.

‘She’s not sick.’

We pass a weathered sign marking 7,800 feet elevation, then I spot a barely visible break in the tree line, just a gap where the forest seems less dense.

“There.” I point. “That has to be it.”

Ryan turns onto what I generously call a road. It’s more like a deer trail that someone halfheartedly widened, all ruts and exposed roots that make the car buck like an angry horse. Branches scrape the sides with fingernails-on-chalkboard sounds.

About ten minutes in, Scarlett makes a sound I’ve never heard from her. Part gasp, part keen, all pain.

“Stop the car,” she chokes out. “Stop. Please.”

Ryan’s already pulling over before she finishes. She fumbles with the door and practically falls out, stumbling a few feet away before doubling over, hands on her knees.

“Scarlett!” Ethan’s out of the car in a flash, but when he tries to touch her, she flinches away.

“Don’t. Just... give me a second.” Her whole body is trembling now. “It’s getting stronger. The pull. Like something’s reached into my chest and is trying to drag me forward by digging tentacles into my heart.”

I shoot Ryan a look as I place a hand on Scarlett’s back. “What do you need?”

“Just…I need a minute. I just need my wolf to… I need her to calm the fuck down.”

I guide her to a patch of shade beneath a wind-stunted fir, where the earth is soft and mossy.

She sits hard, wrapping her arms tight around her knees and staring at the ground like she’s afraid her gaze will set the trees on fire.

I crouch beside her, feeling oddly protective, and not just because we’re friends—or even pack.

Something in Scarlett’s body language—the wild, barely reined panic—makes me want to wrap myself around her as a buffer to whatever cosmic force has her in its sights.

Ryan comes over, his face set in the careful neutrality of an alpha trying not to spook a cornered animal. He unscrews the cap on a water bottle and crouches opposite me, offering it.

“Drink,” he says, gentle but firm.

Scarlett shakes her head, lips pressed white.

“Scar, honey,” I say, reaching out to take her hand, which is cold and trembling.

“Here. Let me help.” Ryan cups the back of her head to steady her and tilts the water toward her mouth. But the second we’re both touching her—my hand on hers, his on her head—something unexpected happens.

A warmth flows from where we touch her, golden and silver light dancing just beneath our skin. The air shimmers, and I feel our bond pulse with an energy I’ve never experienced before. It flows through us and into Scarlett like a circuit completing.

Her eyes snap wide, pupils blown, and for a moment I think she’s about to shift. But then she lets out a shuddering sob, and all the tension bleeds out of her at once. The trembling stops. Her breathing evens out.

“The hell was that?” She looks between Ryan and me, blinking like she’s just woken up. “I... I actually feel better. A lot better. It’s like after a fever breaks, and you can think straight again. The pull’s still there, but it’s not overwhelming anymore.”

Ryan and I exchange shocked looks. Through our bond, I feel his amazement matching mine.

“Did we just...” I start.

“Heal her?” Ryan finishes, staring at his hands like they belong to someone else.

“I don’t think it was something that can be healed,” Ethan says quietly, and we all turn to look at him.

His expression is thoughtful, almost troubled.

“But you definitely eased it. Remember what Ragnar said? The ancient soul-bonded pair could perform miracles—healing sickness, calming storms, raising crops.” He gestures to Scarlett.

“Maybe you’re starting to tap into those abilities. ”

“But we haven’t even completed the bond yet,” I protest.

“Doesn’t matter,” Scarlett says, getting slowly to her feet. She still looks pale, but the frantic energy is gone. “Whatever you two just did, it worked. I can handle this now.” She manages a weak smile. “Though maybe we should hurry before it wears off.”

We pile back in, but the atmosphere has shifted. There’s still tension, but now it’s mixed with wonder. Ryan keeps glancing at Scarlett in the rearview mirror, and I catch myself studying my palms like they might hold answers.

The trees begin to thin, and Ethan lets out a gasp.

“Holy fuck. Look at the size of that place.”

Ryan slams on the brakes so hard I nearly hit the dashboard. His face drains of color, and through our bond, a wave of terror hits me so hard I whimper.

NO! Kane’s voice explodes in Ryan’s mind, bleeding through our connection. Death place! Trap place! Where we died! Where she died! RUN!

At the same moment, Luna rears up inside me with such violence I cry out. Images assault my consciousness. Not my memories, but hers:

Running through these exact trees, clutching a leather scroll.

Kane beside her in his massive wolf form.

The crack of a rifle. Kane’s agonized howl as he falls.

Blood on snow. A woman’s voice chanting in a language that burns.

Racing back home. Struggling for air. The sensation of being ripped from my body, compressed, crushed into crystal ? —

“This is where it happened,” I whisper, my voice shaking as badly as my hands. “This is where Kane and Luna came for the scrolls. Where they were ambushed.”

“Where they died,” Ryan finishes, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

The weight of it crashes over us. Magnus Erikson isn’t just some reclusive wolf who might help us. He’s connected to what happened here—to the ambush, to the witch who cursed them.

“We should go,” Ethan says quietly. “Turn around right now and?—”

“No.” The word comes out harder than I intend. “No, we can’t. That witch is the only one who can break her own curse. And he’s the only one who knows where to find her.”

“But if he was involved—” Scarlett starts, then doubles over with another wave of pain. “Fuck. Can we just... decide quickly? Whatever’s happening to me is getting worse again.”

Ryan looks at me, and I see my own conflict mirrored in his eyes. Every instinct screams to flee, but we’ve come too far to turn back now.

He pulls the car to the edge of a cleared area, and we sit in tense silence. Through the windshield, Magnus’s compound rises like something out of a tech billionaire’s fever dream. All glass and steel and sharp angles that somehow blend with the natural rock formations.

Security is everywhere. Not just cameras—I count at least twelve—but things that make my skin prickle with their wrongness. Symbols carved into posts, etchings in the stone driveway, even a string of animal bones wired above the entry gate.

“Magical defenses,” Ryan murmurs. “Strong ones.”

We roll slowly up the drive, the cameras tracking us. No guards visible, but I know we’re being watched. The silence itself is a threat.

As we approach the main gate, Scarlett shifts uncomfortably.

“It’s getting stronger,” she says, her voice tight but controlled. “Whatever you two did is wearing off.”

A speaker crackles to life: “You’re expected. Drive to the main entrance. Do not deviate from the marked path. Do not exit your vehicle until instructed. Any violation of these rules will be met with immediate response.”

Ryan and I exchange surprised glances, both thinking the same thing.

“I thought he was supposed to try and kill us on sight,” I whisper.

“He hasn’t technically seen us yet,” Ryan mutters back, but I can hear the confusion in his voice. Nicolai had warned us Magnus killed wolves just for existing in his presence. This civil reception—cold as it is—wasn’t what we’d prepared for.

The gate swings open on silent hinges. By the time we reach the main entrance, Scarlett is gripping Ethan’s hand, her jaw clenched but holding herself together with sheer determination.

Two guards materialize from concealed positions—ex-military by the look of it. They scan our car with devices that make my teeth ache, then the taller one approaches Ryan’s window.

“Names.” It’s not a question.

Ryan lists us, keeping his voice carefully neutral. The guard’s eyes linger on Scarlett’s huddled form, but his expression doesn’t change.

“Exit the vehicle. Follow the path. Enter through the main doors. Proceed directly to the receiving area. Any deviation will be considered hostile action.”

We climb out, Scarlett needing Ethan’s support to stand. She’s shaking now, constant tremors that seem to come from somewhere deeper than muscle and bone.

Inside, it’s all soaring ceilings and modern art, everything in shades of gray and white. A woman in a severe navy suit greets us with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Mr. Erikson will see you shortly.”

We wait in tense silence. Beside us, Scarlett sits rigid, her hands clenched in her lap. The temporary relief we gave her is clearly fading. I can see the strain returning to her features, the way she keeps taking controlled breaths.

“We could try again,” I whisper to Ryan, but Scarlett shakes her head.

“Save it,” she says through gritted teeth. “I have a feeling I’ll need it more later.”

“He’ll see you now,” the woman announces, gesturing toward a door I swear wasn’t there a moment ago.

The door opens onto an office that’s all windows and wood, forest views that should be calming but feel like they’re watching us. And behind a desk that’s more art than furniture, stands a man who makes every hair on my body stand on end.

Magnus Erikson is tall and lean, moving with the controlled grace of someone always ready for violence. Dark hair pulled back reveals sharp features that would be handsome if not for the haunted look in his pale gray eyes. This is a man carrying ghosts.

His gaze sweeps over our group with clinical detachment.

Until it lands on Scarlett.

The change is instant. His eyes flash brilliant gold—not amber, but a metallic gold I’ve never seen in a wolf before. He staggers backward, one hand flying to his chest as if he’s been shot.

“No,” he gasps, face contorting with what looks like genuine pain. “That’s impossible. It’s bound. It can’t?—”

Scarlett makes a strangled sound at the same moment, her hard-won control shattering. She doubles over as if something just hooked into her ribs and yanked with brutal force. The careful composure she’d maintained evaporates instantly.

“Security!” Magnus’s voice cracks like a whip. “Get her out. Get her off the property. Now!”

Two guards appear instantly. I reach for Scarlett, thinking maybe Ryan and I can ease her pain again, but the guards are already moving.

Ryan steps protectively in front of her, and I feel Kane surge inside him, ready to defend.

But when Ryan tries to shift, nothing happens.

He strains, face twisting with effort, but remains stubbornly human.

Ethan lunges toward the guards, his own attempt to shift meeting the same invisible wall.

“What did you do to us?” I demand, reaching for Luna and finding her muffled, distant.

“Dampening field,” Magnus says through gritted teeth, still gripping his chest. His eyes keep flicking to Scarlett with something between terror and desperate hunger. “You can’t shift here.”

“We’re not separating,” Ryan says firmly. “My pack stays together.”

“Not this time.” Magnus’s voice is flat, but I catch the way his knuckles are white where he grips the desk. “She leaves, or you all leave. Choose.”

“Why?” Ryan demands. “What’s so dangerous about Scarlett?”

Magnus’s jaw clenches so hard I hear teeth grind. “That’s not your concern.”

“Like hell it isn’t. She’s pack.”

“Then protect her,” Magnus snaps. “Get her away from here. Please.” The last word sounds like it’s torn from him.

“It’s OK,” Scarlett says quietly, though she’s still gripping the doorframe. “I’ll wait outside. You guys get what we came for.”

“Scar—” I start.

“It’s fine, Georgia.” She manages a weak smile, though her eyes remain fixed on Magnus with confusion. “Whatever this is, I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. He looks more scared than I am.”

As the guards escort Scarlett out—gently, I notice, not touching her unless necessary—Magnus visibly relaxes, though tension still radiates from every line of his body.

“Now,” he says, voice carefully controlled again. “Let’s discuss why you’re really here.”