Page 157 of Whispers of Wisteria

Live.

I wasn’t strong enough. Yet, giving up was not an option.

The doors opened, and I dimly looked up through the narrowing tunnel of my vision.

“You!” Maria pressed against the bars as a redheaded man stepped into the room. “You tricked me! You ruined the game.”

He paused by her cell, touching his navy tie, and frowned. “Don’t blame me because I’m stronger.”

“You’re not stronger,” Maria growled. She reached for him, but he stayed out of reach. “You’re a cheat.”

“It’s all the same.” He shrugged, stepping past her. He came to a stop outside my cell. “So this is the fae.”

There was a ripple of undercurrent in the air, and the three shifters tensed.

“You’d be wise to back off,” Gloria warned, still imprisoned in her place against the wall.

“Who does Jameson think he is, hiding her? Did he think I wouldn’t find out?” The man ignored her and opened the door. “We have a deal. How dare he act like he’s better than me?”

“Albert,” Gloria said slowly, “heisbetter than you. Even now it’s still true.”

“I don’t care about your worthless opinion,” Albert snapped. My body shook as he came to a stop in front of me.

A shadow reached out from the darkness, pulling at the edges of my awareness.

I recoiled as he crouched down. The cuffs blocked my ability to act even in a panic, and I had no leverage, no plan—I couldn’t even escape this cell.

I was pathetic.

“You, on the other hand,” he began, and I could feel his eyes raking over me, “are not quite so worthless.”

My breath was strangled in my throat. He grabbed my wrist before I could regain control, jerked my arm forward, and bit my wrist.

My body tensed as the fire roared. Not again.

“Get off her!” Maria’s shout rang loud through the space, but I couldn’t even pinpoint the direction anymore.

My head was spinning and the ground swaying, and the white-hot burn of my energy being stolen was the last thing I felt before I gave in to the darkness.

24

A dull pressurereverberated within my chest, making it hard to breathe. I was pressed against something hard—bone and muscle—and my arms dangled uselessly toward the floor.

The shackles were gone.

A hard shoulder dug into my stomach, and rough fingers dug into the backs of my thighs. My skin crawled as the scent of unwashed males surrounded me, and my cheek scraped against a hard back. The stranger moved, and my heart pounded in tandem with his steps.

Maria was ranting again. “Put her down now, you son of a bitch—”

“My mother was no bitch,” my captor replied, tensing. “We’re not dogs, we’re wolves.”

“It’s the same thing!” Maria snapped. Then, in a slightly more controlled tone, added, “Besides, that’s not the point. Gloria, you’re a fucking wolf—you outrank these morons. Do something!”

I blinked, and the darkness retreated to the corners of my vision. I spotted Gloria.

Her eyes were a bright, caramel-golden color, and her thin face looked sharper, more angular, as she bared her teeth at the wolves invading our cell.

“I suggest you stop before you end up hurting yourselves.” Gloria’s voice reached me through static.