Page 43

SOREN

L ucid dreams.

I couldn't tell dream apart from reality. But there were certain moments that didn't blur together with the days.

Dusk. Because the signal—a shot of red in the sky—would go off at that time.

Dawn. Because the sky reminded me of Seraphina's doe eyes.

The nights she visited. The wolfsbane made it hard to focus on anything, but her voice was a light in the darkest of tunnels. Her tiny laughter as she went over the plans with me, repeated over and over, until it was drilled into my head.

" Three turns left. Five right. Take the stairs. Servants quarters. The nursery's in the second wing. The exit by the infirmary is the least guarded. Take it. Wait for Eric. When Baldwin arrives, there'll be a red flare in the skies. Take Landon. Only Landon."

" I'm not leaving you behind."

" Ronan won't hurt me. Besides, we need another reason to force my father's hand. Holding a Head Alpha's daughter captive is a declaration of war."

" I'm not leaving you behind."

A small laugh. Hands reached through the bars, cupping either side of my cheeks. "Clingy. I really like it".

I snarled, but the little action caused me a violent headache. "I'm not leaving you behind." Broken record. Couldn't form more words. Losing feeling in my hands. Legs ? —

" I need you to trust me." Blue eyes search mine. "Can you do that?"

She was distracting me. But she was looking right at me. Like she saw me. Like she wanted me. It was all I'd ever wanted. I nodded, entranced by her. "Whatever you want."

" Repeat it to me again."

" Red flare. Three turns left." I exhale. "Five right. Stairs. Servant quarters—" She strokes my cheeks lovingly, urging me on. "Nursery. Landon. Only Landon."

It was all that rang against my ears, over and over. Night after night of fighting the poison spreading through my body, killing me slowly. Tiny doses. Slow death.

Sweat and blood—belonging to the guards that had been manning the nursery—sticks to my skin as I hold Landon closer, limping past the tree lines. Howls echo through the night, violent calls. Had I been able to shift, or even feel Kaelin, I might have howled back.

My senses are frayed and I can't trust myself to do anything other than walk.

I stumble over a branch, jagged stones tearing the underside of my foot. I barely feel it. Landon makes an uncomfortable noise but goes right back to sleep. I smile a little. Lucky kid.

Another howl echoes through the night, much closer this time and I whirl to the sound of branches snapping. My senses might be muted, but I catch the foreign scent before a shadow pulls away from the tree trunk.

Beta Dean.

Gunfire echoes rapidly in the distance, excruciating screams filling the air. It's begun too early. Fuck. Tova's scheme must not have worked.

Finding Tova in the nursery after killing the guards outside might have been a surprise, but it was more a blessing.

She handed me Landon. Told me she had noticed the red flare and knew I was coming.

Had hugged me fiercely and made me promise to be safe.

I hadn't. I had promised I would be back for her. For both of them.

"Hand the boy over," Dean orders, eyes searching behind me with calculation. When he realizes I'm alone, he smiles, assured that he can take on an Alpha drugged out of his mind.

He is a fool.

He doesn't make it past the first step before I have his jaw in my grasp, slamming his head down hard against a jagged stone. Bones crunch. Blood splatters. He doesn't rise again.

I pick up on the shuffle of more sets of feet, the foreign scent that follows, and I sigh.

Ten bodies later and a fresh pint of blood staining Landon's shawl, Baldwin's group finds me.

"You look worse for wear," Quinn says in a manner of greeting, jerking his chin towards the men behind him in a silent order and they disappear through the same path I came.

"You haven't happened to see my silly sister around, have you?

Father is losing his mind. Mother wouldn't let him come.

Something about being too old to—" He notices Landon for the first time. "Why, hello there, little one."

I hadn't noticed the boy was awake, watching us with brilliant eyes. He giggles at Quinn like he is amused by him. Must be the new hair dye. It's green.

"What the fuck took you so long?" I ask, pushing Landon into his hands.

Quinn scrunches up his nose, holding Landon awkwardly. "After Seraphina left, the courts dipped into chaos, like she predicted. Helping Eric purge the traitors and maintain stability took more men and time than we estimated—where the fuck are you going? You can barely stand."

"Seraphina's still back there with him," I throw over my shoulder as I lean down, searching the dead guard for pistols. I find three and shuck them in my pocket. "If I don't make it back soon, it'll become a hostage situation. How many strong?"

"Enough," Quinn growls. "Eric's leading the left flank towards the Eastern entrance. I strongly advise you wait?—"

"Get Landon back to the campsite, Quinn. And don't fucking give me orders about how to save my mate."

With that, I slip through the trees. Footsteps follow behind me and I know Quinn has assigned me more men. I can't say I blame him. I really do feel like shit.

My muscles strain with every movement and keeping my eyes open is an effort. Several days lacking sleep would do that to anyone.

We emerge at the west gate and are greeted with the sight of...bodies. Ronan's men and ours alike, bloodied, dismembered, twisted. This is the part of war no one likes to face. The very part I had been avoiding. Deaths. Sacrifices. Useless deaths that could've been avoided.

When you ask the important questions, they say they died for their loyalty, for their Alphas they would give their lives willingly.

It is the way of the packs. In truth, they die for something as flimsy as a ruler's greed, or lust of wealth or women.

They die for disagreements that can be resolved easily.

They die because they inherit problems that have nothing to do with them.

It is sickening, but it is nothing I haven't seen before. "Check for survivors and call for back up," I order, crossing body after body to make it to the open gate.

Inside there are more bodies, more fighting, more men pouring in, the flash of claws, teeth and steel. For as many of my men and Baldwin's have fallen, Ronan's too have bitten the dust. It explains the scantiness of the yard and mansion. It explains the emptiness.

Still, something about it sets me on edge.

I grip the pistol tighter, heart racing with fear. Things must have gone haywire. I try stretching out my instincts but I hear nothing. The only sound of breathing I catch comes from the hallway beyond, where the grand hall resides and when I sniff, I catch Seraphina's scent entwined in it.

I assume the rest of the mansion has been carted towards the safe rooms hidden below for times like this within the hour I was gone. Ronan works fast, I'll give him that. But that in itself scares me.

I've been gone for more than one hour.

He could've killed—I bury the thought. I would feel it if she was gone. Losing one's mate brought on a pain that was often regarded as worse than death. I would know if she was hurt.

I follow the scent through the hallways, more certain as I sight the bodies that Eric hasn't arrived yet. Considering the amount of men I found with Quinn, this was the other half of his flank.

The doors to the grand hall are hanging off the hinges, claw marks scratching them and I pull short at the laughter that grates up my spine, followed by a clap. "There he is."

I'm unsure what to look at first. Callahan leaning comfortably against his throne with a bloodied sword dangling from his hand. Tova standing by his side, looking every inch the fierce High Luna. And Seraphina, forced to her knees at her feet with a gun held by a guard to her temple.

I contemplate the distance. I contemplate tearing the male apart, limb from limb. I contemplate gouging his eyes out and feeding it to him.

I don't do it. The distance would be nothing if I was at full speed, but I am not and Callahan knows that.

Lips cracking on an asinine smile, he oozes amusement. "You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

I barely hear him over the ringing in my ears.

There is a purple bruise forming around Seraphina's eyes.

Blood drips from her pert nose and her lips are burst. A terrible, cold calm falls over me as her gaze holds mine.

Even now, in the face of death, she looks more angry than terrified, her eyes blazing with murderous fire.

Her clothes are in tatters, her skin is reddened with new handprints and nail marks that cover my bruises.

My nostrils flare. My fingers twitch. He touched her.

Hurt her. Humiliates her by placing her in the middle of a room filled with men who leer at her body on display and watch her with unbridled lust.

My legs move?—

The crack of a gunshot snaps the air and my heart lurches as Seraphina jerks to the side, shuffling away from the spot on the ground that had been aimed at.

"Make no mistake, Winter," Callahan purrs. "You so much as breathe wrong and her brain matter will decorate these floors." When he is sure I won't make another move, he presses his fingers together. "Drop the weapons. All three of them."

I listen. I'm a better fighter without weapons in the way. I debate asking him what he wants, but I already know. He wants me gone. He wants everything I own. And offering it to him will only make my death come faster.

Eric will be here soon. I need to buy time until he arrives. "I challenge you to a duel," I say.

Hearty laughter fills the room. "Now, why the fuck would I do that? I have the upper hand. You're sorely outnumbered, if you haven't noticed. I could kill you where you stand."