Page 52

Chapter forty-two

Annabella

Cold.

My cheek pressed against concrete, chilled and damp. Pain came next, radiating from my wrists where silver rope bit into my skin.

My head throbbed as consciousness returned in waves, each bringing with it fragments of memory. The light from Lydia’s hands flowing into Sam’s skull as he screamed. The extraction circles beneath the beds pulsing with power. His convulsions against the restraints as she tore through his mind.

Sam.

I forced my eyes open, the light stabbing my retinas. We were still in the warehouse, in the containment room. The beds where Sam and Talia had been strapped down stood empty, their restraints hanging loose. The one I’d tipped over to shield them was back upright in its original position.

“Finally,” a voice drawled from somewhere behind me.

I tried to sit up, my arms tied behind me making it difficult.

Every muscle screamed in protest, still twitching with aftershocks from the taser.

My mouth tasted like I’d licked the floor of a slaughterhouse that doubled as an ashtray—blood, bile, and something charred that might have been my own fried nerve endings.

Definitely not making the menu at any cocktail bar I’d frequent.

Rough concrete scraped against my skin as I dragged myself upright, leaning against the wall for support.

My body felt like it had been run over by a truck, then backed up on and run over again.

When I finally lifted my head, I found myself staring into the eyes of Gideon Calloway. I should be submissive. Should lower my eyes, but fuck that and fuck him. No fucking way was I going to play submissive to his wolf.

Calloway crouched a few feet away, elbows resting on his knees, studying me like he could tell exactly what I was thinking. Dark hair fell across his forehead, and there was something almost amused in his expression—like he’d expected my defiance and was entertained by it.

“Where are they?” My voice came out raspy. “Mira. Zeke?”

Calloway tilted his head. “Your crew is secured. What’s left of them, anyway. You guys aren’t much for a last stand together, are you?”

So Lydia and Duke had escaped. I wasn’t sure if I was glad about that or really fucking angry.

“And Sam?”

Something shifted in Calloway’s expression.

“That’s a more complicated question,” he said. “And one I’m not fully equipped to answer. The number you guys performed on him did significant damage.”

I closed my eyes. I knew it. Had seen it, but some part of me had hoped that maybe I’d stopped it in time.

“Me? I was all for killing you. But someone insisted I keep you alive. At least for now.”

I tensed, muscles coiling despite the pain, my mind racing through the short list of people who might possibly want me alive—and coming up empty.

“Bring her in,” Calloway called over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine.

The door opened, and a young woman stepped inside. Small, with flowing dark hair and wide eyes. Her bare feet were silent on the floor and she moved with an almost floating quality, her gaze instantly finding mine across the room.

I knew immediately what she was. Witch. A powerful one. I could feel it radiating from her like heat from a flame.

A man stalked in behind her, wearing dark jeans without a single frayed edge and a charcoal henley.

He wasn’t just tall; he was built for battle, with a fighter’s economy of movement and none of the wasted gestures of someone who’d lived an easy life.

A bodyguard? He didn’t radiate magic of any kind.

I inhaled and caught his scent. Shifter. Wolf.

“This is Esme Parker,” Calloway said, gesturing to the woman. “And her brother, Jem Parker.”

“Brother?” I couldn’t stop the disbelieving laugh that escaped my lips. She was a witch, full-blooded from the feel of her. He was pure wolf through and through.

Jem’s eyes narrowed at my tone. “Adopted sister. Esme is Pack.”

I looked from Calloway to Jem, searching for the punchline. “This is how you want to start? With such an obvious lie? Wolves hunt witches. They don’t adopt them.”

Esme smiled, a dreamy expression crossing her face. “Oh, but it is true, my sister-of-two-magics.”

I stared at her, uncomprehending. “I don’t know you.”

“But I know you,” she replied, her voice musical and slightly distant. “Your sparkles called to my sparkles while I was sleeping.”

Her eyes drifted to the empty beds where Sam and Talia had been strapped, and she frowned. “Bad magic. Angry magic. It takes and tears instead of giving.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it with a click, then opened it again. “What the fuck is going on? Just who the hell are these people?”

Calloway cleared his throat. “Esme had a dream. About Sam. About him being in mortal danger.”

“Not just a dream,” Esme corrected gently. “Moon star whispers. Very loud ones. Sam is Pack, Annabella. Yes, my Pack.”

The pieces clicked into place. “You’re from Three Rivers?”

She nodded, a pleased expression crossing her face, then dropped to sit cross-legged in front of me with the unselfconscious grace of a child.

“Esme,” Calloway said, and I got the impression he was uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “Esme told Jem she wanted to come to Kansas City.”

Jem snorted. “Wanted to come? No. Esme told me she was coming, and if I wanted to stop her, I’d have to tie her up with chains, and even then, she’d probably turn them into friendship bracelets and escape, anyway.

So here I am, playing chauffeur to a witch who thinks road trip snacks should include mushrooms that glow in the dark. ”

Esme smiled serenely. “They were very helpful for nighttime driving.”

“They made the car smell like a swamp,” Jem countered, but there was unmistakable affection in his voice. “And they kept changing colors every time you sneezed.”

“That’s how you know they’re the good kind,” Esme replied with perfect seriousness. “Then we found Gideon. In his very important building with all the guards.”

Calloway’s jaw tightened. “They waltzed right into the most secure Wolf Council facility in Kansas City like they had an engraved invitation. Past security that’s stopped assassins and government agents, mind you.

Found yours truly giving a classified briefing on our plan, and Esme here announces that Sam Shaw’s brain is being ‘unwound like a very sad sweater’ and could we please hurry up and stop it. ”

Jem’s expression remained neutral, but I caught the slight quirk of his lip. Esme just blinked innocently.

“When I suggested—quite reasonably—that breaking into a Council facility might warrant some discussion, Tall, Dark, and Murderous here just folded his arms and said, ‘The last person who ignored one of Esme’s warnings is still picking teeth out of his spleen.’”

She leaned forward on her hands so that her face was a couple of inches from mine. I resisted the urge to pull back as she studied me with unsettling intensity.

“He wasn’t very brain-smart. Gideon chose a different path. But now, Sam’s sparkly thoughts are scattered. Like broken glass.”

I glanced from her to Jem to Calloway. None of them blinked, let alone said anything.

Right. I was getting zero help from them.

“Um, what does that mean? Exactly.”

“Memory spells,” Esme whispered, gesturing to the faded markings on the floor where the beds had been.

“They cut through pathways like spoons through spiderwebs. Not clean cuts. Jagged tears. The thoughts are still here. Lost without him.” Her eyes darted around the room like she was watching little dots of thoughts zipping around.

“They’ll be gone soon. Lost for good. He’ll be an empty shell. No Sam left. No Sam left, at all.”

My stomach twisted, acid burning up my throat. I’d wanted revenge, wanted him to suffer for his betrayal. But this? This wasn’t justice. This was destruction.

“I can help him,” Esme said, her eyes locking on mine, her voice suddenly focused and clear. “But we need you. Breadcrumbs, Annabella. We follow it back, like breadcrumbs through a dark forest.”

I shook my head. “I’m the last person who can help Sam Shaw.”

She smiled, her face lighting up with such innocent radiance that she reminded me of Ellie. “No, you are the only person who can help Sam Shaw.”

I glanced again at Calloway, a seriously “who-the-hell-are-these-people” look, but he just shrugged at me.

Absolutely zero fucking help.

I looked back at Esme. “What are you talking about?”

“Your dual nature is key.” She moved, her fingers tracing the faded outline of the extraction circles on the floor. “Witch magic to rebuild, wolf bonds to anchor. I can read them, but I can’t follow them back to his mind without you.”

“Esme believes your unique heritage makes you capable of something no one else can do.” Jem glowered at me like it was a ridiculous lie, and I was the one who said it, not Esme.

I searched his face. “Why would you let me near him? After what we did?”

“Because Sam is one of ours,” he replied simply. “We take care of our own, and Esme says that means taking a risk on you. Though Esme insists you’re not a risk at all. She thinks you’re his mate.”

Mate?

No. NO! No fucking way. She was delusional. Clearly, she was not all there.

Mate, my wolf thought at me.

You can shut the hell up, too!

Calloway’s expression hardened. “No matter what you decide, you and your delightful little crew are going to Adarcan.”

Adarcan. The prison no one escaped from. I’d heard whispers about it; a place where problem supernaturals disappeared forever.

I should have been terrified. Should have been bargaining, negotiating, doing anything to avoid that fate. Instead, all I could think about was Sam’s face.

“I’ll do whatever, if it’ll help Sam,” I said, the words escaping before I’d fully processed my decision.

Esme beamed at me.

“But you’ll have to tell me what to do,” I added quickly. “I’m not good with spells. I’m not—I don’t have the training.”

Esme tilted her head, her expression turning curious. “That’s just what they told you. What you believed.”

I blinked.

“You don’t listen to your inside voice. Annabella is stronger than Shifter, stronger than witch,” Esme said, her fingers making small, swirling motions in the air between us. “Not lesser than both. Two magics dancing together instead of fighting.”

She stood with no warning, just bounced up, then moved to where Lydia had been during the spell, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply.

“First, we need to wake up your sleeping magics. We’ll have to work quickly before Sam’s sparkly thoughts take flight. I’ll show Annabella what she’s always been.”

I looked from her serene face to Calloway’s impatient one, then to Jem’s watchful gaze.

“It will hurt,” she warned, her eyes flying open. “Witch-blood burns just as it burns wolf-blood. But pain can be a pathway, too.”

“To what?”

“To the magic you’ve buried. To the wolf you’ve caged.” Her fingers began to trace symbols in the air, leaving faint trails of light. “To the true Annabella, who is neither half of one thing nor half of another, but twice as whole. Just like Sam said.”

Not half and half—twice as whole. Those were the words Sam had used.

I felt a strange resonance deep within me, like the vibration of a tuning fork against bone. Something ancient and familiar stirring in response to her words.

“Are you ready to meet yourself, Annabella?”

Whatever happened next, there would be no going back. I would either help save Sam and discover what Esme claimed I could be, or I would fail, and Sam would be lost forever.

I took a deep breath and made my choice.

“Do it.”