Page 24

Chapter

Twenty-Four

The camp is eerily quiet as we gather around the battered map. No one gives voice to the truth, but every breath carries the same weight—we don’t have time for hesitation.

Einar leans over the map, tracing the jagged lines of the rogue pack’s territory. His jaw is tight, his eyes sharper than I’ve seen in days. The wolf den sits like a rot at the center, pulsing with magic and traps.

“They’ve fortified every entrance,” he mutters. “If we go in directly, we’ll trigger layered spells.”

A fire burns in my chest. “They want us to charge in. That’s part of their game.”

“They’ll want you to charge.” Lys holds my gaze. “To break your control and shift before you reach him. They know you don’t have much experience in that form.”

I feel the truth of it pressing inside my ribs. My wolf simmers dangerously close beneath my skin, restless since the moment they dragged Harek into those woods. Since even before, if I’m being honest. It wants out, wants to wreak havoc. Part of me wants that too, but I have to be careful.

Harek’s life is on the line.

Einar exhales slowly. “Then we need another way. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“There is an option.” Lys’s voice is soft.

We both turn toward him, full of the same wariness.

“The old ritual tunnels,” Lys says, as if I know what that means. “They run beneath the southern ridge, forgotten by many. They’re mostly still functional.”

Einar frowns. “The tunnels have been sealed for years.”

“Sealed poorly ,” Lys counters. “They were built by the sages, long before the pacts fractured. The wards there are decaying but passable—if we’re careful.”

I study him. “You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.” His smile is faint.

A hollow pit in my chest twists tight as I stare at the map. Every part of me wants to storm their den right now. Tear through them with tooth and blade until they never harm anyone ever again.

But that’s what they want, for me to lose control.

The wolf claws hard at my ribs. If I don’t keep my emotions in line, the wolf will win. None of us can afford that outcome.

I grit my teeth. “We take the tunnels.”

Einar nods curtly. “Agreed.”

Lys inclines his head. “Then we move before moonrise.”

I pull my blade closer to my side, grounding my hands on the hilt.

Harek’s face flashes in my mind, and the weight of everything unspoken between us presses like a stone against my lungs.

Hold on , I whisper silently. I’m coming .

We discuss the details quickly before heading toward the tunnels.

The entrance yawns like a mouth frozen in time at the side of the ridge—half-collapsed, overgrown, and slick with glistening moss.

Barely visible marks are etched into the stone around it, cracked and faded, their protective magic long since bled dry.

As soon as we step inside, the air changes. I shudder at the damp cold. The scent of old magic lingers like food far past its prime.

Einar leads, sword drawn but lowered, scanning each step for traps.

Lys moves just behind him, disturbingly at ease, his fingers brushing lightly against the wall as if reacquainting himself with something familiar.

I follow close, my pulse already hammering harder than I want it to. My inner wolf snaps and paces inside me, making it hard to focus on my surroundings.

The tunnel walls hum faintly beneath my fingertips, pulsing through the old bloodstone veins woven into the rock.

The witches built this. I can feel their lingering presence like whispers clinging to the dark.

Part of me wants to run, but I can’t. This is the only way to Harek. I refuse to turn back, no matter how loudly my instincts scream at me to run.

The deeper we move, the stronger the pressure builds. The air grows warmer and sweeter, and it’s like breathing inside a storm that hasn’t broken yet.

My wolf continues pacing, restless and sharp as my arms twitch. Even my own body wants me to make the shift. Perhaps it knows something I don’t. Could my wolf be the better defense?

No. I’m not going to shift. Not now, not here. I’m in control.

I tighten my jaw, forcing my breath slower, but every step forward thickens the pressure. The magic woven into these walls knows what I am. It calls to me, tickling my ears. Singing for me to rise to what I could become.

Behind me, Lys’s voice slips softly through the dark. “Do you feel it?”

I can’t even get the words out.

“It’s drawn to you.” His words slither under my skin. “You walk the edge of what they tried to create. Hunter and wolf fused together, but still resisting. No wonder the walls call to you.”

He’s right, and because of that, the part of me that wants to stop resisting grows louder with every step.

As we continue, the tunnel narrows into a twisting corridor, the air thickening with every breath. My skin prickles—my wolf pressing harder, sensing what my mind tries to ignore.

My thoughts spin. It’s getting harder to focus.

The corrupted ward is close.

Einar slows, holding up a hand. “Careful.”

Faint symbols pulse along the ceiling—a twisted version of the coven’s old markings, warped like melted wax.

“This ward was tampered with,” Lys observes quietly, almost admiring. “Meant to target hybrid blood.”

I grit my teeth. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be aimed directly at me? Especially since the magic itself is probably older than me by a long shot.

Einar carefully steps forward, analyzing the strands of old magic shimmering like faint threads in the air. “I can try to?—”

The magic snaps. A sharp pulse ripples outward, slicing through my mind like a blade of cold light. The world tilts.

With a jolt, the tunnel walls stretch, distort, twisting in impossible angles. My breath catches as the air thickens into something almost liquid.

Then I see myself standing across from me. Not fully human, not fully wolf. Something monstrous—eyes glowing amber-orange, claws slick with blood, and muscles tense and wild with hunger. The wolf inside me fully unleashed, merged with the hunter, but without control. Without mercy.

The creature tilts its head in eerie mimicry of me.

My stomach turns, my chest tightens. This is what I could become.

The creature’s mouth pulls back in something like a smile. “You fight us,” it whispers in a voice that isn’t mine but at the same time is. “You pretend you can hold it. But you’re already changing.” Its claws flex. “You don’t need to resist. You only need to surrender. Surrender…”

I stagger back, mesmerized, confused. A spike of excitement races through me. Nothing makes sense, but it’s starting to. I could become something unlike anything the world has ever seen.

“Eira!” Einar’s voice cuts through the warped space. He grabs my shoulder, solid and grounding.

The vision fractures, and the twisted version of myself shatters like broken glass as the ward’s magic collapses, leaving only empty air.

I gasp, knees threatening to buckle.

The tunnel snaps back into place.

Einar steadies me, his voice calm but firm. “Breathe. You’re here. We’re here for you.”

My chest heaves, and the vision clings to me even as it fades. My skin still hums with the aftershock.

Lys steps closer, his voice disturbingly gentle. “You see it now.”

I don’t answer, because the truth rattles inside my bones. For my entire life, I’ve always kept full control of myself. Now this new nature threatens that, but seeing what I could become shakes something loose inside me.

Not because it horrifies me, but because I recognize it. And part of me wonders if surrendering would be a relief.

My father places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I suck in a shallow breath. “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Take a deep breath.”

I give him a doubtful glance. “You can’t be serious.”

“While I’m no shifter, I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with strong hunter urges. Trust me, it helps.”

To humor him, I take a deep breath. Surprisingly, it does help a little.

He insists I take a few more, and then if nothing else, I’m at least distracted enough to carry on.

The last curve of the tunnel opens into a cavernous chamber, half-collapsed like the entrance, but still thrumming faintly with power. The smell of damp stone mingles with old blood, and old etchings glow faintly.

It has to be the rogue den.

I swallow hard as my eyes adjust, then I take another deep breath.

Einar gives me a knowing look.

At the center of the chamber, shackled against a jagged stone pillar, is Harek.

My chest tightens at the sight of him. His wrists and ankles are bound with heavy, enchanted chains etched with unfamiliar symbols. His head hangs low, but his chest rises in slow, steady breaths.

He’s still alive. But barely, from the looks of it.

I lunge for him.

Einar stops me, a steadying backward pull. “Not yet.”

“Are you crazy?”

“It’s a trap. There’s no way it’s this easy.”

“You call going through those tunnels easy ?”

Lys studies the perimeter. “They left him exposed. Your father’s right. It’s a lure, of course.”

Disappointment hits me. “They know I’ll come for him.”

“They know you already have.” Lys’s voice stays soft, eyes narrowing. “And they also know we’re here.”

The hairs on my arms rise. Suddenly, the den feels wrong. Not just because of Harek or because of the rogue pack’s lingering magic.

It’s something else.

A presence. Someone is watching, but from where? There isn’t anywhere to hide. A hole in one of the walls, perhaps?

I scan the darkness at the edges of the chamber, my pulse on fire. The collapsed tunnels, the broken archways…

I see nothing other than shadows.

Yet I can’t deny the feeling making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand tall.

Could it be the curse itself? Or something worse? Anything is possible at this point.

My fingers tighten around my sword hilt. The wolf inside me stirs again, sensing the unseen threat right along with me.

Lys looks around slowly. “We’re not alone.”

Einar frowns, scanning the shadows. “More of the pack?”

“No.” Lys tilts his head slightly. “Something else lingers in these tunnels. It’s watching us.”

I shudder at the use of the word ‘it.’ Not a person, fae or otherwise.

The shadows remain still and silent.

I force my uneven breath to steady, my eyes locked on Harek’s bruised face.

Focus .

We will get to him, no matter what watches from the dark. There’s no other option.

The chamber pulses faintly beneath me, like a slow heartbeat. I turn my attention back to Harek, my mind racing.

His head wobbles slightly, lifting with visible effort. His gaze finds mine. Even through exhaustion, pain, and blood, he still finds me. He doesn’t speak. We don’t need any words.

I’m here. I’ve found him.

Einar’s voice pulls me back, low and tense beside me. “The pack won’t leave him unwatched for long. We need to hurry.”

“They’re circling,” Lys’s eyes narrow as if he can see through the rock itself. “Waiting for your emotions to break. They want you unbalanced before they strike.”

“How do you know all of this?” I snap, suddenly annoyed with him.

He gives me a flippant glance. “I’ve been in this world longer than a few months.”

Shame fills me, though there’s no reason. It isn’t my fault nobody ever told me about any of my fae sides, leading me to believe I was nothing other than a boring human.

My hands tremble slightly around my sword hilt. My wolf paces violently beneath my skin, clawing at my ribs, its power coiling stronger, growing harder to resist.

The vision from the ward still lingers behind my eyes. The monstrous hybrid version of myself… so close.

I could let go. Could rip through them and tear them apart. The wolf pushes. I clench my jaw hard, digging my nails into my palm. If it takes the last bit of my energy, I’ll keep it at bay.

Raw, feral instinct blooms behind my teeth. My muscles tense. Heat flashes through my veins. Against my will, I almost shift.

For a beat, I nearly give in. It would be so easy.

But then my eyes turn toward Harek like he’s compelling me to face him. He’s found me again, even from across the chamber.

This is a fight I must win. I slam the wolf down hard, grinding it until it comes under my control. It has to wait. We both do.

Einar shifts his stance, watching me closely. He saw the slip.

Lys watches too. His unreadable expression falters for a moment. He fails to mask his fascination, his hunger.

It’s one more issue I can’t deal with, and I push it from my mind.

The pressure breaks slightly as I force control back into my limbs.

“Let’s get him. Now.”

Einar nods. “On my signal.”

The shadows still shift at the edges of the chamber. The unseen watcher remains silent.

But the wolves will return, and when they do, they’ll find this chamber empty.