Page 17 of The Pack

CHAPTER 17

Z ara

The forest pressed closer the deeper we went, the trees crowding together like they were conspiring to keep out the light. The air was still foggy with the scent of damp earth and moss, and every sound felt amplified—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth, and the soft murmur of our breathing.

It was creepy and I shivered with apprehension.

My nerves were stretched thin, the silence gnawing at the edges of my composure. Magnus led the way with his typical calm, but he was more tense than usual as he scrutinized the shadows like he expected something to leap out at us at any given moment.

The trail narrowed again, winding through a stretch of particularly dense woods. The light filtering through the canopy was dim, draping everything in shades of gray and green. My foot caught on a root, and Callum’s hand shot out to steady me once again.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his gray eyes warm despite the tension in his posture.

“Yeah,” I murmured.

We pressed on, the group moving as one through the dark shadows the trees cast all around us.

Then I stopped short.

The trail curved sharply ahead, and standing in the middle of the path was a young girl.

She couldn’t have been more than eleven, her small frame dwarfed by the tattered dress she wore. The fabric was filthy and torn, hanging limply around her bony shoulders. Her feet were bare, smeared with mud, and her hair fell in tangled, unkempt waves over her pale face.

She stood perfectly still, her wide, dark eyes staring at us with an intensity that sent a chill racing down my spine.

Magnus held up a hand, and we all stopped.

“What the hell…” Killian muttered.

“She’s just a kid,” Callum said softly, glancing between the girl and Magnus.

“I don’t like it,” Tobias growled, his hand going to the hilt of his blade.

“She’s scared,” I said, my voice a bit harsher than I intended.

The girl’s eyes darted between us, her small hands clutching at the fabric of her dress. She took a hesitant step back, her bare foot crunching on the gravel of the trail.

“It’s okay,” I said, stepping forward before anyone could stop me.

“Zara,” Magnus warned.

“I’ve got this,” I said without looking back.

The girl flinched as I approached, her shoulders hunching as if she was trying to make herself smaller. I stopped a few paces away, crouching slightly to make myself appear a little less intimidating.

“Hi,” I said gently. “What’s your name?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked nervously to the men behind me.

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “They won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Her wide eyes met mine, filled with a mix of fear and something I couldn’t quite figure out.

Finally, she whispered, “Amelie.”

“Hi, Amelie,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I’m Zara. Are you alone out here?”

She nodded, her hands twisting in the fabric of her dress.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

She glanced at the ground, and she shook her head.

I frowned, my heart aching at the raw fear evident on her face. “It’s okay,” I said gently. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head again, her small hands trembling. “No. Just scared.”

My chest tightened, and I fought the urge to reach out to her.

“It’s okay, Amelie,” I said. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“Zara,” Magnus said quietly.

I turned slightly, glancing over my shoulder.

“She’s scared out of her mind,” I shot back.

The girl flinched, and I softened my tone, turning back to her. “Amelie, it’s okay,” I said, holding out a hand. “We’re not going to hurt you. I promise.”

She stared at my hand, her lips trembling. Slowly, cautiously, she reached out, her small fingers taking mine.

Then she whispered, “Please… don’t leave me.”

My heart broke at the raw plea in her voice.

“We won’t,” I said, my voice unwavering despite the tightness in my chest. “You’re safe now. I promise.”

The girl’s small hand was trembling in mine, her dark eyes wide with fear. My heart ached for her, even as the unease of the moment coiled tighter around my chest.

“It’s okay,” I whispered again. “You’re safe.”

Amelie nodded, her lips trembling as she glanced past me toward the pack. Magnus was extremely tense. Callum had moved a little closer, his eyes filled with cautious concern. Tobias, Thorne, and Killian were more restrained, their stances rigid and their gazes sharp.

“We need to move,” Magnus said quietly. “This doesn’t feel right.”

He wasn’t wrong. Something about the air felt charged, like the forest was holding its breath, but the girl was here, shaking like a leaf in my hand.

What was she doing out here? Had the Regency dumped her out here too, like me? Whatever her story was, I wanted to help her.

She needed us. She needed me.

“Just a little further,” I said, giving Amelie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get you somewhere safe.”

I stepped forward, leading her down the narrow trail.

Then all hell broke loose.

A net shot up from the ground, snapping around Killian and yanking him into the air. He let out a loud curse, his body spinning wildly as he clawed at the ropes.

“What the bloody—?” he shouted, his voice cutting off as the net tangled tighter.

“It’s a trap!” Magnus barked, his eyes darting around as the forest exploded into chaos.

A second net shot up, snagging Tobias and Callum in one fell swoop. The two of them slammed into each other midair, their snarls filling the clearing as they thrashed against the ropes.

“Zara, get back!” Thorne growled, his eyes narrowing as he reached for his blade.

I stumbled backward, my heart pounding as I scanned the trees.

They were everywhere—nets, ropes, spikes. The forest seemed alive, every step setting off another mechanism, each more brutal than the last.

“Zara, run!” Magnus shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I turned toward him, only to see him jerk to the side as another net closed around him. His silver eyes locked on mine, fierce and commanding even as the ropes tangled around his arms and legs.

“Run!” he repeated.

The forest erupted into chaos as the traps triggered one after another. Nets snapped up into the air, ropes tightened around limbs, and spiked logs swung down from the canopy, their deadly edges gleaming. The pack fought fiercely, but every movement only seemed to spring another trap.

Killian dangled helplessly in a net above, snarling as he clawed at the ropes. “Bloody hell, this is ridiculous!”

Callum and Tobias struggled in their shared net, spinning wildly as they tried to break free. “Stay still!” Tobias barked.

“Easier said than done,” Callum shot back, his voice strained.

Magnus struggled in the net, his eyes burning with rage as he shouted, “Zara, run!”

I stumbled back, my heart racing as I looked for a way out.

“I’m not leaving you!” I shouted.

Magnus twisted in the net, his muscles straining against the ropes. “That’s an order! Go!”

Thorne was still free, his sharp eyes darting around as he tried to spot the source of the traps. His machete flashed as he cut through a nearby rope, narrowly avoiding a spiked log that swung down toward him.

“Zara, move!” he growled, his voice tight with urgency.

Before I could respond, a wooden spike shot up from the ground, catching Thorne across the side. He grunted in pain, his body twisting to avoid the worst of the impact, but blood darkened his shirt where the spike had grazed him.

“Thorne!” I shouted, taking a step toward him.

“I’ll be fine,” he snapped, though his gritted face told a different story. “Just—get out of here.”

But as he turned to free Magnus, another rope shot out, coiling around his ankle and jerking him off his feet. He slammed into the ground, the air leaving his lungs in a loud gasp, before the rope yanked him up into the air.

He dangled upside down, blood dripping from the wound on his side. His eyes locked onto mine, a mix of frustration and pain in his expression, and then they glanced behind me and widened with fear.

“Zara! Watch out!”

I turned just in time to see Amelie.

The terrified child I’d been comforting moments before was gone. Her wide, frightened eyes had hardened into a cold, calculating stare.

“Amelie?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she raised a rock in her small hand and brought it down hard against the side of my head.

Pain exploded through my skull, white-hot and blinding.

I staggered, my knees buckling as the world spun around me. Amelie’s face blurred, her skinny frame seeming impossibly large for a moment before darkness swallowed everything.

The last thing I heard was Magnus’s furious roar.

Fuck. My head hurt.

When I finally came to, the first thing I noticed was the pounding in my scalp and the damp smell of the earth all around me.

My arms felt heavy, my wrists sore, and when I opened my eyes, the soft crackle of a flickering campfire echoing off the rock walls surrounded me.

Where the fuck was I?

I took a quick look around and realized I was in a cave.

I blinked, trying to focus, but the world swam in and out of clarity all around me. The ground beneath me was rough and cold, littered with straw and scraps of fabric. Shapes moved in the distance—human shapes, hunched and wild, their voices low and guttural.

Memories came rushing back in a chaotic blur. The traps. The pack. Amelie .

I turned my head and saw her sitting by the fire, her tangled hair silhouetted by the flames. She was staring at me, her dark eyes wide with something between curiosity and maybe guilt.

“She’s awake,” she said softly, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

The figures moved closer, their shapes coming into much sharper focus. They were human—or at least, they had been once. Their clothes were little more than rags, their skin smeared with dirt and scars. Their eyes were sunken, their hair wild and matted, and they moved with an animalistic grace that sent a chill down my spine.

They didn’t speak.

Not words, at least. They grunted and growled, their guttural sounds filling the cave as they circled around me like wolves descending on their prey.

“She talks,” Amelie said, her voice trembling, but determined. “She’s like me.”

The murmurs quieted, the figures retreating slightly as a new presence entered the space. An old woman, her back hunched and her movements slow, shuffled into the light. Her gray hair was tied back in a messy braid, and her face was a map of wrinkles and scars.

Amelie stood and helped her to the fire, her small hands holding onto the older woman’s arm.

“She can talk, Grandmother,” Amelie said, her voice filled with a mix of pride and wonder.

The old woman’s dark eyes, sharp despite her age, fixed on me. She crouched slowly, leaning closer until her face was mere inches from mine.

“You can speak?” she asked, her voice raspy and uneven, as if it hadn’t been used in years.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely.

The woman’s eyes widened, her lips parting in a breathless sound of awe. “It’s been so long,” she murmured, her burning stare studying my face like she was memorizing every detail.

“What… what is this?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Who are you?”

The old woman sat back, her gaze never leaving mine.

“We are what’s left,” she said simply.

Her words sent a shiver down my spine.

“You’re human?” I asked.

She nodded slowly. “In body, yes. But in mind…” She gestured to the figures watching us from the shadows, their guttural sounds rising again.

“We’ve lost so much. Language. Reason. They cannot speak. Only grunt. Only fight. Only survive.”

I stared at them, my chest tightening. “But you can talk. And Amelie?—”

“I taught her,” the old woman said, her voice firm. “She is my granddaughter.”

Amelie knelt beside her, her wide eyes locking onto mine.

“We haven’t had anyone like you in a long time,” she said softly.

“Like me?” I asked.

“A human,” the old woman said. “A young one. A woman.”

She reached out, her gnarled hand brushing my cheek. I had to keep myself from pulling away for fear of insulting her.

“You will give us what we need,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding.

The old woman’s eyes darkened. “You will give us new blood.”

“What… what does that mean?” I asked again, though dread curled in my stomach like a living thing.

The old woman smiled faintly, her cracked lips pulling tight over yellowed teeth.

“You are strong,” she said simply. “Young. You will thrive here, with us. You’ll give us what we need to survive.”

“And what is that?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best effort to keep it steady.

“Babies,” she said, the word landing like a hammer.

A murmur of approval rippled through the cave, the guttural sounds of the others rising as they shifted closer. My pulse pounded in my ears as I looked around, their eyes gleaming in the flickering light of the fire, filled with an unnatural hunger.

I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“We’ll take care of you,” the old woman continued, her voice almost soothing now. “You’ll want for nothing. We’ll provide food—wolf meat, plenty of it. Warmth. Shelter. All you must do is give yourself to the men of our tribe.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing.

“You think you saved me,” I said slowly, trying to buy time, to think.

“We did save you,” the old woman said firmly. “The wolves would have torn you apart.”

“They weren’t—” I started, but the woman’s grip on my cheek tightened, silencing me.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, her tone softening. “This is the way it must be. This is how we survive.”

Amelie, who had been silent until now, moved closer, her tiny body pressing against my side. I flinched at the contact, but she didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she didn’t care.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I turned my head slightly, catching the guilt in her wide eyes.

“You hit me,” I said, my voice low.

“They told me to,” she said quickly, her small hand clutching at my arm. “They said it was the only way to keep you safe. If I didn’t, the wolves would’ve taken you.”

My chest tightened, anger and fear warring inside me. “The wolves weren’t going to hurt me.”

She frowned, her brows knitting together. “But they’re dangerous. Everyone knows that.”

“No,” I said softly, but firmly. “Not all of them. Some are… different.”

The old woman watched our exchange with a cold, calculating glare before turning back to the others.

“Prepare a space for her,” she commanded. “She’ll need rest before the ceremony.”

“Ceremony?” I asked, my voice cracking despite my best effort to stay calm.

The woman smiled faintly. “Yes. The ceremony will take place in a few days. It will mark the beginning of your purpose here. The tribe will come together to ensure your bloodline strengthens ours.”

I forced myself to nod, swallowing back the bile rising in my throat. “I… understand.”

“Good girl,” the old woman said, patting my cheek before standing.

The figures began to disperse, their rough murmurs fading as they moved into the shadows of the cave.

I had to find a way out of this, for both me and my pack, and I had to find it fast.

The next few days passed in a haze of tension and quiet dread. Every move I made was met with watchful eyes. The tribe rarely left me alone, their strange sounds following me like an ever-present shadow.

Even when I thought I was alone, I could feel them watching—hidden in the darkness, their eyes gleaming like embers as they observed my every step.

They never touched me, never spoke or grunted directly to me, but their presence alone was suffocating.

The old woman remained close, her knowing stare always tracking me, as if she expected me to bolt at any moment. She didn’t say much beyond giving instructions to the others, but her words carried weight, and the tribe obeyed her without question.

Amelie was different.

The young girl followed me like a lost puppy, her wide eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and guilt. She rarely left my side, her small hands often clutching at my arm or the edge of my cloak like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.

On the third night, I sat near the fire, watching the flames dance and trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. My escape would take careful planning, and the constant watch of the tribe made that almost impossible.

Amelie plopped down beside me, her little body folding easily onto the rough stone floor. She rested her chin on her knees, her dark eyes flicking to mine.

“You’re really pretty,” she said suddenly, her voice soft and earnest.

I blinked, startled by the compliment. “Oh. Uh… thanks?”

She grinned, her teeth small and slightly crooked. “You are. Your hair’s so shiny. And your eyes look like the sky before it rains.”

I let out a small laugh despite myself. “That’s… poetic.”

“What’s poetic?” she asked, tilting her head.

“It means you described something in a way that makes it sound beautiful,” I explained.

Her grin widened, and she sat up a little straighter. “I can do that? I didn’t know that.”

“You can,” I said, smiling faintly. “You’ve got a talent for it.”

Amelie beamed, clearly pleased with the praise. “I’m gonna try to think of more… poetic things to say, then. Maybe I can impress you.”

“You don’t need to impress me,” I assured her.

“I want to,” she said earnestly.

I frowned slightly, my chest tightening as I looked at her. She was just a kid, caught in a world that had stripped her of so much—her innocence, her freedom, her understanding of what it meant to truly live.

“Why?” I asked gently. “Why do you want to impress me?”

Amelie shrugged, her small shoulders rising and falling. “Because you’re different. You talk like my grandmother. And you… you don’t look at me like the others do.”

“How do the others look at you?”

“Like I’m just… there,” she said, her voice dropping. “But you talk to me. You listen. I like it.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and I reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll always listen, Amelie,” I said softly.

She leaned into the touch, her slight frame pressing against my side. For the first time since I’d been dragged into this nightmare, I felt a flicker of warmth—not hope, exactly, but something close.

We sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling softly between us, but my thoughts were anything but calm.

I missed them.

Magnus always seemed to have a plan, no matter how impossible things looked. His presence was grounding, a constant reminder that someone was in control even when the world felt like it was falling apart. I could still hear his voice in my head, low and commanding, telling me to keep going, to stay strong.

Tobias was different—quieter, more intense. His dark eyes carried the weight of an experience I couldn’t begin to understand, but there was a fierce protectiveness in him that made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t say much, but when he did, his words were like iron, solid and unyielding.

Callum, with his easy smile and kind gray eyes, made me feel warm and safe. He was always there with a kind word, a quick joke, or a steadying hand when I needed it most. His optimism felt like a lifeline in the middle of all this chaos, a reminder that there was still good to be found, even here.

And Killian… Killian was chaos. Wild and untamed, he kept us on our toes, but beneath the teasing and the bravado, he was solid, dependable, and even a little sweet. He made me laugh when I thought I couldn’t and made me feel alive.

Then there was Thorne. Quiet, stoic, and sharp as a blade, he was the calm in the storm. His pale blue eyes could cut through to the truth of things in a way that left me breathless, and his always dependable presence was like a shield, always there to protect me from harm.

I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself, but my heart was beating for them and only them.

It didn’t make sense. How could I feel this way in the middle of all this madness? How could I let myself want something so impossible when everything else was crumbling all around me?

But I did.

I wanted Magnus’s quiet strength, Tobias’s fierce loyalty, Callum’s warmth, Killian’s wild energy, and Thorne’s unwavering calm. I wanted them, not just as protectors, but as my mates.

As I sat there by the fire, Amelie’s small hand clutching mine, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever get the chance to tell them.

My eyes watered and I tried to blink back my tears.

I hoped they were okay and that they were still alive. I missed them. It felt like my heart was broken without my pack.

“Amelie,” I said softly, my voice cutting through the quiet.

She turned to me, her wide eyes curious. “Yes?”

“Where are they keeping the wolves?” I asked carefully, my tone as light as I could make it.

Her brows furrowed, and she glanced toward the far end of the cave where the shadows deepened into darkness. “Why?”

“I just… I need to know they’re okay,” I said, forcing a small, reassuring smile.

Amelie hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “They’re fine,” she said after a moment. “Grandmother says they’re being kept safe.”

“I’d still like to see them,” I pressed gently. “Just for a moment.”

She frowned, her small hands twisting in her lap. “We’re not supposed to go back there.”

“Please, Amelie,” I pleaded. “It would mean a lot to me.”

She stared at me, her dark eyes searching mine, and I saw the flicker of guilt there—the same guilt that had been shadowing her since she’d knocked me out.

“Okay,” she whispered.

She got up and led me through the twisting tunnels of the cave, her small footsteps silent against the uneven stone. The deeper we went, the colder the air became.

The tunnels were dark, the faint glow of the fire behind us fading until we were left in near-total darkness. Amelie held tightly to my hand, her grip firm, but trembling as we moved.

“Are you sure this is okay?” I whispered, my voice barely carrying.

She nodded quickly, her gaze fixed ahead. “No one’s here right now. They’re all at the fire.”

Finally, the tunnel opened into a larger chamber, the soft light of a single torch flickering weakly against the walls.

And there they were.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw them.

The pack was bound, their arms tied behind their backs with thick ropes, their bodies slumped against the rough walls. Magnus was closest to the entrance, his dark hair matted with dirt, his eyes narrowing as his eyes landed on me.

“Zara,” he rasped, his voice low and urgent. “What are you doing here?”

Behind him, Tobias stirred, his dark eyes flicking toward me. Callum and Killian were farther back, their usual energy muted but not extinguished, and Thorne’s pale eyes were sharp despite the blood smeared across his temple.

“You’re alive,” I whispered, relief washing over me like a wave.

Amelie tugged at my hand, glancing nervously between me and the pack.

“We shouldn’t stay,” she said, her voice trembling.

“What are they doing to you?” I asked, my eyes locked on Magnus.

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Amelie.

“Zara,” he said, his voice steady despite the anguish in his expression. “You need to leave. Now.”

“No,” I said firmly, my voice stronger than I felt. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Amelie tugged harder at my hand. “We have to go,” she whispered, panic edging her voice.

“Why are they keeping them here?” I asked, my chest tightening.

Amelie hesitated, her small face crumpling with remorse. “They’re saving them… for the ceremony.”

Magnus’s eyes darkened, his body tensing against his bonds. “Zara,” he said harshly. “Go.”

“What about the ceremony?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Amelie’s gaze dropped to the ground, her voice barely audible as she answered. “The one after your first breeding. They’ll need a feast.”

The words sank in slowly, cold and heavy as stone.

“They’re going to… eat them?” I whispered, horror clawing at my chest.

Amelie nodded, her small fingers curling tightly around mine. “We have to go,” she said again, her voice breaking.

I stared at the pack, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of the nightmare unfolding around me.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I said, my voice shaking as I turned to Magnus.

“Zara,” Magnus started, but Amelie pulled at my hand again, her small frame trembling against mine.

“They’re coming back,” she whispered.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly down the tunnel, and my heart leapt into my throat.

“Go,” Magnus growled, his voice low, but commanding. “Now.”

Amelie tugged harder, and this time, I let her pull me away.

I knew, with a cold certainty, that the clock was ticking.

The next day arrived far too quickly. The old woman didn’t speak to me that morning, but her presence was felt in the way the others moved with a purpose, their guttural sounds rising with what I could only identify as excited anticipation.

Amelie stayed close, her small hand slipping into mine more than once, but she didn’t say much.

By midday, the preparations began. My hair was braided back by one of the older women, her fingers clumsy and tugging as she worked in silence.

When it was time, the old woman appeared, her cold glare sweeping over me.

“It’s time,” she said simply, her voice rasping.

I didn’t respond, my jaw tightening as I nodded.

They led me through the winding tunnels of the cave, the air growing cooler and damper as we descended. The torchlight flickered, casting long shadows that danced like specters on the rough stone walls.

At the entrance to a smaller chamber, the old woman stopped, gesturing toward one of the men standing nearby. He was smaller than the others, his frame wiry but strong, his skin weathered and scarred. His eyes were empty, his mouth twisted into a near-permanent scowl, and I had to swallow past the bile at the back of my throat.

“This one will be yours,” the old woman said, her voice almost kind. “He will be gentle.”

The man grunted in response, stepping forward with a slow, determined gait. His eyes flicked over me, and I didn’t like what I saw within them.

My heart pounded as we were led into the chamber, the old woman murmuring something about the ceremony beginning soon. She moved a piece of wood into place behind us, blocking the entry and leaving us alone in the small torch-lit room.

The man stared at me, his breaths heavy and uneven as he took a step closer. My pulse thundered in my ears as I shifted slightly, my eyes darting around the room for anything I could use.

A glint of metal caught my eye. A knife.

It was strapped to the man’s waist, the blade small, but sharp, the hilt worn smooth from use.

I took a slow, trembling breath, my mind racing as he closed the distance between us.

He reached for me, his callused hand grabbing my arm with surprising force. I didn’t fight him—not yet. I let him think I was compliant, let him believe I was resigned to my fate.

When his other hand reached for my waist, I struck.

I twisted quickly, breaking free from his grip and lunging for the knife. My fingers closed around the hilt, yanking it free as he snarled, his guttural growl echoing in the small chamber.

He came at me fast, his movements wild and uncoordinated, but fueled by brute strength. I barely had time to dodge his first swing, the momentum carrying him forward as I stumbled back.

The knife felt heavy in my hand, the weight unfamiliar, but reassuring.

He lunged again, his hands reaching for my throat, and I slashed wildly, the blade slicing across his forearm. He howled in pain, but it didn’t slow him down.

He tackled me, his body slamming into mine and knocking me to the ground. The air left my lungs in a loud whoosh as his weight pinned me down, his hands scrabbling for the knife.

I twisted beneath him, my legs kicking as I fought to free myself. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot and rancid as he snarled, his hands closing around my wrists.

I brought my knee up sharply, driving it into his stomach. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench my hand free.

I didn’t hesitate.

With all the strength I could muster, I drove the knife upward, the blade sinking into his chest with a sickening crunch of metal on bone. His eyes widened, the snarl on his lips faltering as blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth.

He collapsed onto me, his weight crushing, his body trembling as the life drained from him.

I shoved him off with a cry, rolling to my side as I gasped for air. The knife was still clutched in my hand, the blade slick with his blood.

I stared at his lifeless body, my chest heaving as the adrenaline coursed through me. I wiped the blade on the man’s tattered shirt, my hands shaking as I forced myself to move. I had to run. I needed to get out of here fast, before the tribe realized something was wrong.

It was time to free my pack.

Tentatively, I moved the piece of wood and crept through the doorway, listening intently for any sign of life, for footsteps, for voices, for anything that might mean someone was coming.

Thankfully, all was silent, and I moved stealthily along the passage.

The tunnel curved sharply, the air growing colder as I descended further into the cave, following the path Amelie had taken earlier. My footsteps were careful, but quick, each one as silent as possible.

Finally, I reached the last turn, the light from the torch flickering just inside the entrance to the chamber where the wolves were being kept.

A shadow moved across the light and I froze, my heart lurching.

The guard was tall and broad, his back to me as he stood just inside the entrance. A crude spear rested against the wall beside him, his hand resting lazily on the hilt of a short blade strapped to his waist.

I swallowed hard, my grip on the knife tightening. I didn’t have time to wait, to think, to plan, so, I just relied on instinct.

Cautiously, I crept forward, each step slow and quiet, the soles of my boots barely making a sound against the stone. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I kept my breathing even, my focus locked on the man in front of me.

When I was close enough, I lunged.

I drove the knife into his side, the blade sinking deep into the gap between his ribs. He let out a guttural cry, his body jerking violently as he tried to twist toward me. I yanked the knife free and struck again, this time slashing across his throat.

Blood sprayed, hot and thick, as the guard collapsed to the ground, his hands clawing weakly at his neck.

I didn’t wait to see if he was dead.

I scanned the chamber for any more potential threats, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as I scanned the room. The pack was still there, just as I’d left them. Bound and bloodied, but thankfully alive and mostly well.

“Zara,” Magnus rasped, his silver eyes wide.

“Hold on,” I said quickly, fumbling with the bloody knife in my hand as I sawed through the ropes binding him.

When I finally cut through them, the ropes fell to the ground, and he surged to his feet, his hand gripping my arm. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. It’s not my blood,” I said, though my voice trembled. “We don’t have time. I have to get the others.”

Magnus nodded, his expression grim as he picked up the guard’s fallen blade. “Hurry.”

I moved to Killian next, my fingers surer with the knife as he watched me, his golden piercing eyes sparking in the firelight.

“You’re late,” Killian smirked, his tone dry despite the tension in his jaw.

“Good to see you too,” I shot back, relief flooding through me as the ropes fell away.

Callum and Tobias were next, their murmured thanks barely audible over the pounding of my pulse.

Finally, I reached Thorne. He was sitting up and alert, but there was blood smeared across his temple and his breaths were shallow. His blue eyes locked onto mine as I knelt beside him.

“You look like hell,” I said softly, forcing a smile.

He let out a faint huff, his lips curving into the smallest hint of a smirk. “It’s nothing. The wound’s healed already—mostly, at least. It’s been a few days.”

I frowned, though the corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. “Does it hurt?”

His smirk widened. “Not enough to slow me down.”

“Let’s move,” Magnus said quickly, his eyes scanning the tunnel. “They’ll be coming soon.”

Magnus took the lead. Tobias stayed close to the rear, his machete drawn and ready, glancing toward every sound no matter how small. Callum hovered near me, his hand brushing my arm every so often as if he wanted to reassure me and calm me down, maybe reassure himself, too. Killian moved just ahead, his usual grin nowhere to be seen, his movements purposeful and quiet. Thorne, though wounded, kept pace, his pale eyes focused and unyielding.

I clutched the knife I’d taken, my palms slick with sweat. The tribe’s guttural murmurs echoed faintly through the tunnels, growing louder and closer with every passing second.

“They know,” I whispered.

Magnus glanced back at me, his jaw tight. “They’ll know more if we don’t keep moving.”

We pressed on, our footsteps muffled against the uneven stone. The tunnels twisted and turned, the faint scent of fresh air teasing at the edges of my senses.

“Almost there,” Magnus murmured.

Ahead, a faint light filtered through a jagged opening in the stone. My chest tightened with hope, my steps quickening as we neared what looked like an exit.

But then, from somewhere behind us, a roar echoed through the tunnels.

“They’re coming,” Tobias growled, his dark eyes narrowing as he turned, his blade raised.

Magnus cursed under his breath. “Move. Now .”

We broke into a run, the walls of the cave blurring as the faint light ahead grew brighter. My breaths came in ragged gasps, the weight of the knife heavy in my hand as I gripped it tighter.

Another roar rang out, closer this time.

I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of dark shapes moving through the shadows—tribesmen, their eyes wild and gleaming in the dim light.

“They’re gaining on us!” Callum shouted, his voice edged with panic.

“Keep going,” Magnus barked.

The light ahead grew brighter, the cold air slowly growing harsher as we neared the exit. The ground beneath us turned uneven, jagged rocks jutting up like teeth. My foot caught on one, and I stumbled, my heart lurching as I nearly fell.

Tobias caught my arm, pulling me upright with a grunt. “Not the time to trip,” he said, his voice breathless with urgency.

“Thanks,” I muttered, forcing my legs to move faster.

The roars behind us grew louder, the horrifying sounds of the tribe echoing through the tunnel like a feral symphony.

“We’re not going to make it,” I whispered, panic clawing at my chest.

“Yes, we are,” Thorne said quickly, his pale eyes flashing.

Magnus reached the opening first, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the pale light of the forest beyond.

“Out! Now!” he shouted.

One by one, we scrambled through the narrow gap, the cold air of the forest a stark contrast to the damp heat of the cave.

When I reached the exit, my breath hitched as the roars behind me grew deafening.

“Zara, come on!” Callum shouted, his hand outstretched.

I lunged forward, my fingers brushing his as I stumbled out into the open air.

Working together, Magnus, Thorne, and Tobias all turned and slammed a large rock into place, the jagged stone grinding against the walls as it wedged into the opening. The sounds of the tribe muffled, their rasping cries fading as the stone blocked the entrance.

For a moment, the world was still, the forest around us eerily quiet.

“Keep moving. That boulder won’t hold them for long,” Magnus commanded.

Without hesitation, we plunged into the trees, the shadows of the forest swallowing us as we ran. My legs burned, my chest heaved, but I didn’t stop.

We weren’t safe yet, but we were together, and that was enough to keep me moving.