Page 23

LIVIA

I peered into the witches’ cabin through the door that was slightly ajar, the stench of blood drifting through my nose. With goosebumps raised on my arms, I knocked in hopes that someone would answer.

It had taken me nearly twelve hours to find my way back to their cabin, and I had somehow made it in one piece without anyone attacking me, which I had found suspicious, but nobody had been following me. I’d made sure to check and recheck multiple times.

“Hello?” I called through the dark cabin.

No answer.

When I stepped into the house, the stench filled my lungs. Where were they? Maybe they were out. They had to be out, right? My stomach twisted. No, I knew that wasn’t true. Somewhere deep down, I knew that something had happened to them.

Someone had killed them.

The living room was empty. Their bedrooms empty. The spare room empty.

But the kettle was still hot in the kitchen, and an array of herbs decorated the counters. A small kitchen knife was in the sink, covered in blood. My eyes widened, and I spotted a droplet on the ground, then another, then another.

I followed the blood to a door where the stench was the strongest. Bile rose in my throat as I opened the door and stared into a dark corridor. At the end, there was a flicker of light. I sucked in a sharp breath and entered.

While I wanted to turn back, to run home, I had come here for a reason. And that reason lay with two witches who knew about my powers, who knew my mother, who had all the answers I needed.

My brain was screaming at me to leave, but something deep inside me kept pulling me toward the light at the end of the hallway until I was in the room and standing over Esma and Circe lying dead in a pool of their own blood.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, dropping to my knees.

As soon as my flesh touched the blood, it all began glowing. The same symbol that had been on my necklace’s pendant was drawn around the room in their blood, all over the walls, fucking everywhere.

“What happened…” I asked, looking around and shaking my head.

While I wanted to blame the Whispering Pines Pack for this, the wounds on their bodies looked… self-inflicted. My hands trembled. How… Why? They’d told me that they’d be here to explain everything whenever I wanted, and that was… barely a couple days ago.

Why did they kill themselves? Why were they… Why were they dead?

My fingers twitched, the pool of blood drawing me to it like a magnet. I didn’t know why, but I submerged my hand in the crimson liquid. While the puddle was only an inch deep, my fingers dipped further into it, almost as if… it were going through the concrete floor underneath.

Forearm deep now, my arm came out the other side, almost swimming in the air underneath. Yes, air. Not dirt. Not more concrete. Air. I fished around and finally grabbed what felt like a book.

It took everything I had to pull it back up through the concrete, then through the blood.

But once it was finally out, I dropped it onto my lap. That symbol covered it again and again. I sucked in a sharp breath, unable to stop myself from opening the pages that looked like they hadn’t touched the blood at all.

The writing… was in a language that I couldn’t understand, yet somehow my body did. I didn’t know why there was so much blood. I didn’t know what this all meant. But the words… the words were seemingly coming to life.

Blood. Magic. Princess.

Princess…

I had seen that word before. It was in that letter that had been on my windowsill. But what did the symbol mean? Why had the witches killed themselves? What was this book? A book of magic, maybe. My mind was reeling with a thousand different thoughts.

I didn’t know what it was, but maybe there were more.

So I shoved my hand down into the puddle again, letting it slide through the concrete floor with ease this time and into the hidden chamber underneath us.

I fished out another book, and then another, and then even another.

I wanted to submerge my entire body to see what I was missing, but I feared that I wouldn’t be able to return.

Just as I was reaching out one final time, someone grabbed my hand.

Another shriek left my mouth, and I withdrew my hand as quickly as I could.

What… was that? Who was that? Were there people down there?

All the blood was making my eyes and my brain so hazy. I had to have imagined that.

A door behind me creaked open, and I snapped my head toward it, and my eyes widened. It wasn’t Caelan. It wasn’t Dad. It wasn’t even the witches who– who the hell knew –could’ve probably come back to life.

It was Soren, Alpha of the Whispering Pines Pack.

My stomach dropped, and I stumbled around, positioning myself between the ancient books and him, my fists balled behind my back. While Elijah had been a spitting image of him, Soren was twice Elijah’s size, taller and even more muscular.

“What… What do you want?” I asked. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am, Livia.” He stepped toward me, blocking my escape. “You killed my son.”

My heart was thumping loudly inside my chest. My throat was dry. My head was spinning. But what was worse than all of that was… I could feel my heat returning. It was very, very weak, but I could feel it.

Is this place causing me to go through something? Why is it returning now?!

Lycos, I shouldn’t have left. Or maybe Caelan should’ve marked me when he had the chance, then I wouldn’t have to go through this every month, and he’d know where I was at all times through our bond.

But Caelan hadn’t marked me because he didn’t want to mark me.

The heat rose faster than it ever had, making my blood boil inside me. The blood on the walls glowed so brightly that I would’ve thought we were outside if I didn’t know any better. My hands began trembling.

When he stepped toward me again, I knew that I had to think quickly. I knew that I had to find a solution. Because if I didn’t? Soren would take everything he wanted from me, then kill me for slaughtering his son and embarrassing his entire bloodline.