The Hunt Begins

They came an hour before dawn.

Elena woke to the sound of glass shattering somewhere in the Tower. She was out of bed and had the knife in her hand before she was fully awake.

"Noah!"

She ran into the next room. He was already sitting up, wide-eyed. She scooped him into her arms just as the door burst open.

Three men stood there. Rogue wolves, shifting at the edges, their eyes feral.

"There," one of them said. "The boy."

Elena slashed. The knife opened a gash across the first one's arm. He snarled and swung. She ducked, shoved Noah behind the bed, and kicked the second one in the knee.

"Stay down!" she shouted.

Two of them lunged at once. She went down hard, rolled, and came up with the knife against one man's ribs.

"Elena!"

The voice cut through the noise like a blade.

Adrian came through the broken door in a blur of black. He caught the nearest rogue by the throat and threw him through the wall. The second wolf spun toward him. Adrian struck once, and the man hit the floor and stayed there.

The third wolf turned on Elena.

She was already moving. She didn't wait for rescue. She ducked under his swing, drove her elbow into his throat, and plunged the knife into his thigh. He howled and dropped.

Adrian was at her side in a heartbeat.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"It's not mine."

He looked at the man on the floor, then at her, and something raw and fierce crossed his face. It wasn't surprise. It was pride, and heat, and fear, all tangled together.

"You fought him," he said.

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I knew you would." His voice roughened. "I just forgot how it looks."

She didn't know what to say to that.

Another wolf burst in behind them. Adrian moved without thinking, pulled her in front of him, then spun so his back took the blow. She felt his body shield hers, felt his heart hammering against her shoulder. Without a word, she reached back and caught his wrist, and in the same breath she lunged forward and stabbed the attacker under the ribs.

They moved like they had practiced it a thousand times.

When the last rogue fell, the room was silent except for their breathing.

Elena found herself pressed against the wall, with Adrian's arm braced beside her head and his body between her and the door. His chest rose and fell against hers. His eyes were dark and wild and fixed on her mouth.

"We shouldn't be able to do that," she whispered. "Fight like that. As if we knew each other's moves."

"We do know."

"I don't remember."

"Your body does."

The bond between them hummed, hot and dangerous. She became very aware of his hand on the wall, the heat of his skin, the way her pulse was racing, and not from the fight.

"Adrian..."

"I know."

"Noah is right there."

"I know."

He stepped back, painfully, as if tearing himself from a magnet. His hand shook.

"We need to question them," he said hoarsely.

They knelt beside the first rogue, the one Elena had cut. He was still conscious, panting, his eyes glassy.

"Who sent you?" Adrian demanded.

The man laughed, wet and broken. "You'll never find him."

"Who?"

"He told us to take the boy alive. He said..." The rogue coughed. Blood bubbled at his lips. "He said the Warden's boy is worth more than the King."

"Where is he?"

"He's closer," the man gasped, "than you think."

His body arched. A black vein crawled up his neck. His eyes rolled back.

"He's been poisoned," Elena said.

"Who did it?"

"I don't know. Someone planted it. Maybe a timed capsule..."

The rogue's gaze fixed on Noah's small shape peeking from behind the bed. He smiled, red-toothed, and whispered his last words.

"The Warden's boy. The key."

Then he was gone.

Elena looked at the dead man. Then at her son. Then at Adrian.

She said the only thing she could.

"What is a Warden?"

Adrian didn't answer. His face had gone cold, in the way of someone who had just understood something terrible.

"Adrian?"

He turned his head slowly.

"I don't know yet," he said. "But I think it's what got your mother killed."

Elena stopped breathing.

"My mother?" she said. "I never told you anything about my mother."