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I watch the liquid creep closer and closer until it dawns on me that… this isn’t water.

It’s blood.

Streams of blood. Dozens of them. Each one inching closer to me with patient, insidious intent.

From inside the pitcher, a shadow shifts… watching. Listening. Remembering.

My lips part. I try to call out. Try to warn someone—anyone— but my throat is too raw, and nothing comes out.

Suddenly, there are hands on my brow. More hands on my arms. The sound of voices punctures the haze I’m trapped in. The sounds become words. Words string together, forming thoughts and ideas and questions and orders, each splinter like shards of glass before falling to land in pieces surrounding my body.

I reach for one, but my arm merely twitches. I glance down and realize my hands are curled into fists.

‘Rest now, Daughter. Do not be afraid. This is not how your story ends.’

Like my soul has just been waiting for permission, my eyes roll back, disappearing into the back of my head. Light fades away. An empty, dark nothingness rushes in, filling the space.

Something close to peace falls over me.

I know this place. I’ve been here before.

I fall, letting the shadow swallow me whole. My senses power down one by one, until all that’s left is the pain. It clings to me, unwilling to release its hold. For a moment I’m afraid its claws have sunk too deep.

Then, I feel a sharp jerk, then a popping sensation in what feels like my soul as it, too, disappears.

In a cocoon of nothing, I float and rest, secure in the knowledge that I’ve finally found someplace safe. Nothing can get to me here.

Because nothing exists.

There is only the Void, soundlessly screaming my name and carrying it away on the wind.

Chapter 8

Soren

Ihaven’t moved in what feels like days, but in reality it has probably only been an hour. The dungeon smells like mildew and cold, wet stone, the chill seeping into my bones like it’s got a personal vendetta against me.

Leave it to the leeches to have an actual dungeon in an actual castle.

I’d always heard their compound was large, but after days running the perimeter, I now know it’s much larger than we suspected.

The castle, where their Head Commanders and the Last Shield live, is like something straight out of a medieval fantasy. Though smaller than this one, I’ve seen similar structures on visits to Scotland with Kane. Not only old, but alive in a way few places truly are.

I crack my neck for the eighth time. I feel antsy. Unfocused.

A Beta female brought a tray a while ago. Opened the door to my cell and damn near threw it across the floor before relocking it with nervous, shaky movements.

Like I couldn’t get out of here if I wanted to.

I ate half, then pushed the rest under the bench. Just in case those fuckers get the bright idea to try starving my Mate again.

I’m waiting twenty more minutes before I shift and ruin their year. The only reason I've entertained this at all is because Idril made it clear it’s something she needs to do.

I’ve been patient, but this is taking too long. How hard is it to ask three questions and feed her?

Something isn’t right.

My Mate Bond pulses frantically—mirroring my anxiety.