Page 10

CHAPTER 10

I should 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.

To them, the curse made my mates look small. Laughable. Gnome-sized creatures in mismatched clothes, unarmed and ridiculous.

“Dwarves?” one hunter snorted. “These are what she’s been hiding with?”

“They look like someone’s garden ornaments.”

The men didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. The curse twisted perception and took their voices with it. Garrett stepped forward, muscles flexing, rage burning in his eyes. The hunter closest to him gave a mocking laugh and shoved him back with one hand.

“Careful. This one might bite.”

Evander reached for me. The magic yanked him back like a leash. Cassian growled low, fists clenched. Leif’s jaw worked in frustration as he paced the clearing’s edge. Kade looked ready to strike, but the hunters didn’t see danger. They saw nothing worth fearing.

Ronan lunged. The hunter closest to him stepped aside casually and slammed a boot into his side. Ronan went down hard. No one noticed the pain in his eyes. They only laughed.

“Pathetic.”

And Nikolai… he stood behind them all, still and silent, his gaze locked on me. The bond vibrated with his fury. With all of theirs.

"Lunara," Garrett’s voice pushed through the bond like a scream. " We’re here. We will save you."

But they couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t save me.

And the hunters never even noticed.

They yanked the chain, dragging me across the frozen ground. My head snapped back. The muzzle scraped my lips.

The men roared inside the bond.

And I couldn’t answer.

“They’ll come for her,” one of the hunters muttered, bored.

“Won’t matter,” another replied. “By then, it’ll be done.”

They couldn’t follow. Not yet. Not until the sun dropped below the horizon. Until then, they were tethered, trapped outside the ritual’s reach. And I would already be on the altar, my blood feeding her magic.

They dragged me through the trees with mechanical efficiency, boots crunching over frost-hardened earth. Half a mile from the cabin, the clearing opened before us… too perfect to be natural. The stone altar waited at the center, carved with runes that pulsed faintly, hungry for blood. They threw me down, chains clanking, skin slapping cold stone. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

She was already there.

Cloaked in crimson, surrounded by robed figures who moved like shadows. Her gloved fingers glistened with old magic. When she smiled, it was hollow. Too smooth. Too sure.

“You ran,” she said. “And still, here you are.”

I glared. The muzzle silenced the words burning behind my teeth.

She traced my cheek. The gesture meant nothing. The command came instead. “You’ll bite before the moon reaches its highest point. And I will never die.”

Behind us, a howl pierced the woods. The hunters stiffened.

She didn’t flinch. “Let them come,” she said. “It’s already too late.”

The sun inched lower. Her acolytes began carving blood into the dirt. Seven cuts. Seven drops. One for each bond I wore like a second heartbeat. They didn’t know what they were drawing from… but I did. They sliced my skin like parchment. I bled. They caught it in a silver bowl and called it power.

The chains grew heavier. My limbs sagged. Not from pain, but because they drained me. Piece by piece.

One of them pressed a blade against the inside of my thigh. “Don’t move,” he said.

I moved anyway. The cut went deeper. The bowl caught more blood.

The muzzle bit into my face. I bit my cheek to keep from screaming.

She circled me slowly. Red cloak sweeping the ground, untouched by the filth. She lifted a black apple in her palm. It didn’t shine. It absorbed light. Absorbed everything .

“Do you know what this is?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Everyone in our world knew the Apple of Ashes.

“It took me twenty years,” she said, eyes gleaming. “Three husbands. Seven witches. Your father. And now, you.”

The apple hovered just inches from my mouth.

“Bite,” she ordered. “And in return, I’ll live forever.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Well, physically I could. The muzzle would only allow for me to follow my step-mother's commands, but nothing else. But I didn’t break.

She reached for the muzzle’s clasp. “Such spirit,” she muttered. “Your mother had it too. Until she drowned.”

That snapped something inside me.

The sky darkened. Shadows stretched. The sun was nearly gone. And I felt them.

The bond surged. Seven lines of heat and fury racing toward the clearing. Garrett. Ronan. Kade. Evander. Cassian. Leif. Nikolai. Human again. Powerful again. But held back. Still caught behind the ritual’s barrier.

“They can’t save you,” she said, voice brittle now. She felt them too. Her fingers trembled.

The chanting swelled. Acolytes lit the blood symbols with their own power. The circle burned sickly green.

I closed my eyes. I didn’t pray for rescue.

I prayed for vengeance.

The clasp fell open. The muzzle dropped from my mouth.

She lifted the apple. Triumphant.

“Bite,” she whispered.

I opened my mouth.

And I spoke.

The words weren’t mine, not entirely. They came from somewhere deeper. Older. The language of sacrifice. Of reversal. Of blood claimed instead of given. Winterbourne.

Her eyes widened. She tried to pull the apple back.

Too late.

The runes flared… not hers anymore. Mine.

The ritual turned on itself.

Seven bonds surged forward, no longer silenced by chains or spellwork. The forest heard me now.

The altar pulsed.

The apple shook in her hands.

And then?—

Everything broke.