Page 4

Chapter

Three

HAZEL

M y fingers twitched against packed earth, the movement so small it was barely there. Wrong. Everything felt wrong. The weight pressed down, surrounding me, and filling every space. My chest burned for air, but I couldn't expand my lungs against the crushing pressure.

Where...?

I tried to move my arm, but there was nowhere for it to go. Soil packed tight against every inch of my body, holding me in place. The position was strange–twisted–one knee bent up near my chest, the other leg stretched at an odd angle. Like I'd been dumped or thrown away.

My heart pounded harder, each beat an explosion of terror in my chest. I had to move. Had to get out. But how? The earth pressed in everywhere, so heavy I could barely twitch my fingers. Each tiny movement brought more soil trickling into any space I made, threatening to pack me in tighter.

Breathe!

But I couldn't breathe. Not really. Just shallow sips of air through soil that tasted of blood and herbs and...

No. Don't remember. Move. Please move.

I focused everything on my right hand, the one that seemed to have the most give. Millimeter by millimeter, I worked my fingers against the earth, trying to create just enough space to–

My chest spasmed. Black spots danced behind my closed eyelids and for a moment I was back in my cottage, Xavier's hands around my throat.

No. Focus. The memories would kill me as surely as the earth if I let them in. I concentrated on my hand again, on the burning need to move. To live. My wrist shifted, just a fraction, and suddenly there was the tiniest pocket of space near my face.

I turned my head, slowly, so slowly, pressing my face into that space. The soil still tried to fill my nose, my mouth, but for a moment I could draw in a real breath. The air was stale, thick with the taste of earth and death, but it was air.

The space wouldn't last. Already I could feel more dirt trickling down, threatening to seal me in again. But that breath, that tiny victory, sparked something deep inside. A fury that burned hotter than fear.

He'd tried to kill me, and bury me like a secret.

I wasn't dead yet.

The earth fought me with every movement, but that spark of rage kept me focused and fighting. My fingers worked in tiny circles, scraping and pressing until I curled them into a proper fist. The soil shifted around my knuckles. Not much, but enough.

I pushed upward, ignoring the fresh wave of dirt that cascaded down. Each movement had to count. Had to get me closer to air, to freedom and revenge.

The thought of his smirking face fueled me. I'd trusted him. Let him into my life, my home, my heart. And he'd tried to bury all of that along with my body.

My arm moved another fraction, the burn in my muscles almost welcome. Pain meant I was alive. It meant I could still make him pay.

Something scraped against my forearm–a root? I worked my fingers around it, using it as an anchor to pull myself higher. The earth fought back, pressing in from all sides, trying to drag me deeper. But I wouldn't let it. Not this time.

A spark flickered in my chest, familiar yet strange. Magick. My magick, which hadn't answered me since...Well, ever.

The tiny flame grew stronger, warming me from within. I didn't question it, didn't dare break this fragile connection. Instead, I fed it with my rage, my determination. The spark responded, pushing outward through my skin, creating the smallest bubble of space around my upper body.

It wasn't enough to free me completely, but it gave me room to move and think; to notice things I hadn't before–like the way the walls of my prison weren't smooth. They were rough, hasty, with curved gouges that could only have come from massive paws.

His wolf. His wolf had dug this hole, frantic and sloppy in its hurry to hide his crime. To bury the witch who'd dared to try and make things work even though our arrangement wasn't created by either of us.

Thunder rumbled, distant but growing closer, telling me which way was up. The sound vibrated through the earth, through my bones, and my magick flickered in response. Yes. The storm was coming. Coming for me, for him, for everything.

I clawed toward the thunder, my magick creating small pockets of space that collapsed almost as quickly as I made them. But it was enough. Had to be enough. The earth grew looser, wetter. Close. I had to be close.

Something cold hit my searching fingers. Rain. The storm was here, and I was almost free.

I pushed harder, ignoring the way my muscles screamed, the way dirt kept trying to fill my mouth, my nose. The rage burned hotter than the pain, than the fear. Each heartbeat seemed to echo with a single word: Survive. Survive. Survive.

My hand broke through first, rain pelting my raw, bleeding fingers. The storm's fury matched my own, lightning splitting the sky as I fought my way upward. Thunder crashed, drowning out my gasps as I finally, finally pulled my head and shoulders free.

Cold rain plastered my hair to my face, washing away dirt and blood in rivulets. I dragged in great gulps of air, sweet and clean and alive. But I couldn't stop. Couldn't rest. My legs were still trapped, and he could return any moment.

The hole was shallow, just as I'd thought. Barely deep enough to hide a body. To hide me. Now I could see the frenzied claw marks where his wolf had dug in desperation. Had the animal felt guilt? Remorse? Or just the urgency of its master's command?

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the forest around me. His territory. His pack's hunting grounds. I had to get away, had to run before they found me alive instead of safely buried and rotting.

My legs came free with a wet sucking sound, mud clinging to my clothes like grasping hands. I should have felt cold–the rain was icy, the wind bitter. But my skin remained warm, almost feverish. The magick still flickered inside me, weak but present. Present when it shouldn't have been awake yet.

What had changed? What had awoken it?

I stumbled to my feet, the weight of what had just happened hitting me like a physical blow.

I should be dead. I was dead–or should have been.

My hand moved to my throat, fingers tracing the bruises Xavier's hands had left.

The marks were real. The memory was real.

But somehow, impossibly, I was standing here breathing, heart pounding with fury instead of stopping forever.

How am I alive?

The question flickered through my mind for only a moment before survival instinct kicked in. Later. I could think about the impossibility later. Now was for running, for surviving, for getting as far from Xavier and his pack as my legs could carry me.

Lightning crackled, showing me a path through the trees. Away from the shallow grave. Away from his territory. Away from the life I'd built and lost in a single night of betrayal.

The forest closed around me as I ran, branches whipping at my face. I didn't feel their sting. Didn't feel the cold mud squelching between my bare toes or the icy rain soaking what was left of my clothes. I need to put distance between myself and that hole in the ground. Between him and me.

My magick fluttered in my chest, weak but steady. A tiny flame of hope in the darkness. It had helped me escape the grave. Maybe, just maybe, it would help me survive what came next.

Hours passed in a blur of rain and darkness. My feet pounded against wet earth and slick grass, each flash of lightning briefly illuminating the forest around me before plunging me back into shadow. The storm's fury began to fade, but my terror remained sharp as glass.

Have I gone far enough? The question echoed through my mind, spurring me forward even as my legs grew heavy as stone. I had to keep going, had to get beyond the pack's lands, their reach. But with no moon or stars visible through the clouds, I feared I was running in circles.

My foot caught on an exposed root and I crashed to the forest floor, breath forced from my lungs. I gasped there a moment, mud soaking into my tattered dress.

Get up! I screamed at myself. Move!

But my legs would not obey, trembling with overexertion as I tried to rise. The glowing embers of magick I'd used to escape the grave had faded to cold ash, taking my unnatural strength with them.

Still, I crawled forward on hands and knees, clawing past clinging vines and branches. Thunder cracked overhead once more, then faded to distant rumbling.

"No," I whimpered, collapsing onto my back as the last drops of rain pelted my face. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, the looming trees seeming to bend and sway.

They think you are dead , some small voice inside whispered. You can get away. Survive. You must survive.

With enormous effort I dragged myself toward a thicket of bushes, collapsing underneath their sparse cover.

Thorns tore at my skin, but I was beyond pain, focused only on the branches overhead sheltering me from any potential passing eyes.

While the brush wouldn't mask my scent from the nose of a wolf, hopefully I had traveled far enough that none would stumble upon me by accident.

I've gone far enough for now, I told myself. A little rest to regain my strength, then I would go on. My eyes drifted closed even as I made that silent vow.

There was no going back to my old life anyway.

My family had sold me to him, binding me with a contract I'd been too young to even understand, let alone sign.

Every choice since then—where I lived, who I spoke to, how I spent my days–had been filtered through what would please Xavier, what would benefit the match they'd arranged.

None of them had ever asked what I wanted.

And somehow, despite it all, I'd grown to care for him. Or thought I had. Was it love? I wasn’t sure.

Maybe what I'd felt was just gratitude that he was kinder than he could have been, more patient than the arrangement required.

Maybe I'd confused his careful cultivation of my affection with genuine feeling.

How pathetic that seemed now–falling for my own captor because he'd made my cage comfortable.

Let them all think Hazel Blackwood died tonight. She had.