Chapter 3

The mud was a cold, wet coffin against my skin.

Two burly guards hauled me through the underbrush, their grips like iron vices on my arms. My feet dragged uselessly over roots and stones, but I barely felt the pain. My entire world had narrowed down to the sound of my son’s screams, which were fading into the distance as they dragged him the opposite way.

"Daddy! Daddy, help!"

Sayler’s voice cracked, high and terrified, before it was abruptly cut off by the slamming of a heavy steel door. The dungeon. They had thrown my four-year-old son into the silver cells.

A howl tore from my throat, raw and guttural. "Sayler!"

"Shut your mouth, rogue," one of the guards spat, backhanding me across the face. My head snapped to the side, copper filling my mouth. "The Alpha has spoken. You’re dog food."

He threw me forward. I landed hard, skidding across a patch of gravel that tore at my dress and skin. We were at the edge of the Pit—a deep, ravine-like crater where the pack kept their feral, untamable wolves. The scent of blood and musk wafted up from the darkness below.

I looked up, rain blinding me. Through the sheets of downpour, I saw Nash standing on the ridge above. He was silhouetted against the storm, Veronica clutching his arm like a parasitic vine. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at his pack house, his expression blank.

"Just do it," Nash’s voice drifted down, carried by the wind. "I’m done looking at her."

The guard who had hit me grinned, pulling a jagged hunting knife from his belt. "With pleasure, Alpha. I’ll feed the scraps to the pups."

He loomed over me, casting a shadow that blocked out the rain. I squeezed my eyes shut. I was going to die. I was going to die in the mud, unloved and forgotten, and my son was going to grow up a slave to the woman who destroyed us.

*I’m sorry, Sayler,* I thought, my heart shattering. *I failed you.*

The guard raised his arm.

A screech of tires tore through the air, louder than the thunder. It was a sound of expensive rubber tearing through dirt, of an engine roaring with a power that didn't belong in these woods.

A sleek, black limousine—completely out of place on the rugged pack terrain—burst through the tree line. It didn't slow down. It accelerated, heading straight for us, headlights cutting like twin blades through the gloom.

"What the hell?" The guard stumbled back, shielding his eyes.

The car swerved violently at the last second, missing me by inches, and slid to a halt, its bumper inches from the guard’s shins. Mud splattered everywhere, coating the pristine black paint.

The silence that followed was heavy. The driver’s door swung open, and a man stepped out.

He didn't look like a wolf. He looked like royalty.

He wore a tailored grey suit that somehow remained immaculate, despite the storm. His hair was black and slicked back, his face angular and coldly beautiful. He didn't even look at the mud; he looked at the world as if it were a restaurant he was about to burn down for bad service.

He lit a cigarette, the flame of the lighter illuminating sharp, hazel eyes. He took a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that mingled with the rain.

"Is this the Silver Creek hospitality I’ve heard so much about?" he drawled, his voice smooth, bored, and laced with an undercurrent of lethal authority. "Executing women and children in the mud? I expected... better."

The guard froze. He looked at the man, then at the crest on the limousine door—a silver crescent moon encased in a sun.

"Lycan," the guard whispered, his face draining of color.

Nash’s head snapped up. He saw the car, saw the man, and hissed. "Kai. What are you doing here?"

Kai ignored the Alpha on the ridge. He walked over to me, stepping elegantly over the mud. He looked down at me, his hazel eyes sweeping over my battered face. He didn't offer a hand to help me up; he just crouched down, studying me like a lab specimen.

"She’s pretty," Kai mused, blowing smoke in my face. "For a piece of trash."

He looked up at the guard. "Get your hands off her."

"S-she's a rogue," the guard stammered, looking nervously between Kai and Nash. "The Alpha sentenced her to—"

"I don't care if she’s the Queen of the Pixies," Kai interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a Lycan’s power. The guard actually shrank back, his wolf bowing inside him. "I said, get your hands off her."

The guard scrambled away, dropping his knife. He knew better than to mess with a Lycan Prince. Wolves bowed to them; it was in the blood.

Kai turned his attention to the ridge. "Nash. Come down here and explain to me why my car is dirty."

Nash stormed down the slope, Veronica trailing hesitantly behind him. "This is pack business, Kai. The woman trespassed. She attacked me."

"She?" Kai pointed at me with his cigarette. "She attacked you? She looks like a stiff breeze would break her."

"It's a trick," Veronica hissed, her eyes darting nervously to Kai. "She’s a witch. And she stole a child. A powerful warlock child."

Kai’s eyebrows shot up. "A warlock child?"

"He’s in the dungeon," Nash said, his jaw tight. "My doctor is examining him now. We intend to find out where she stole him from."

Kai laughed. It was a cold, humorless sound. "You threw a magical child in the silver cells? Do you have a death wish, Nash? Or are you just stupid?"

Nash bristled, stepping into Kai’s face. "Watch your tongue, Lycan. You are on my land."

"And you are making a mistake," Kai said calmly, flicking his cigarette into the mud. "I’m taking the woman."

"You can’t," Nash growled. "She belongs to the pack."

"Not anymore." Kai reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, sealed with red wax. He held it up. "Right of Sanctuary. I claim her."

The blood drained from Nash’s face. Right of Sanctuary was an ancient law. If a high-ranking Lycan claimed a fugitive, the pack could not touch them without declaring war on the Lycan Empire. It was a law older than the packs themselves.

"You can't be serious," Veronica snapped, stepping forward. "She’s dangerous! We can’t just let her walk away!"

"I can do whatever I want," Kai said, looking at Veronica with a look of such distaste she flinched. "And frankly, my dear, your perfume is giving me a headache. Step back."

Kai turned back to me. He extended a hand. It was manicured, clean, and warm. I stared at it, confused. Why was he helping me?

"Get up," he commanded. "Unless you prefer the company of the feral mutts."

I took his hand. He pulled me up effortlessly. As soon as our skin touched, I felt a strange sensation—not the electric jolt of the mate bond, but a hum of recognition. His energy was cool and steady, unlike Nash’s chaotic fire.

"The boy," Kai whispered, so only I could hear. "Is he the reason you came back?"

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. "They have him in the silver cells. It’s killing him."

Kai’s eyes hardened. He looked at Nash. "And the boy? I assume you’re taking him too?"

"He’s evidence," Nash said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"He is of High Blood," Kai lied smoothly. "I felt his magic from a mile away. You put him in silver, you damage the goods, I hold you responsible."

Nash looked torn. I could see him fighting with himself. Part of him—the Alpha part—wanted to defy Kai out of pride. But another part, the part buried deep under the spell, looked at Kai’s hand holding mine and was consumed with a rage he couldn't explain.

"He’s my prisoner," Nash ground out.

"Give him to me," Kai said, his voice dangerously low. "Or I take him by force. And I promise you, Nash, you don’t want to see me break your toys."

Nash’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He looked like he was about to explode.

Then, Veronica stepped close to him. She wrapped her arm around his waist, pressing her body tight against his. She whispered something in his ear, her lips brushing against the skin of his neck.

I saw Nash’s eyes go wide. The fight drained out of him instantly, replaced by a cold, stark fear.

"You’re right," Nash said, his voice hollow. He pulled away from Veronica, looking at me with a dead, vacant stare. "Take the witch and the bastard. I don’t care."

"Nash!" I cried out. "Sayler! He’s your son!"

"I have no son," Nash said, the words like stones. "He’s a liability. And she... she is nothing."

"Good," Kai said, grabbing my arm and steering me toward the limousine. "Then you won't miss us."

He opened the back door for me. I hesitated, looking back at the pack house. The dungeon. Sayler was in there, alone, hurting.

"We can't leave him," I said to Kai, my voice trembling. "Please."

"Patience, little rogue," Kai muttered, shoving me gently into the leather seat. "I didn't come here for a social call. I came for the High Magic. And that brat in the basement is radiating it."

He slammed the door shut. The driver, a large man with a scarred face, stepped out and walked over to Nash.

"The Prince requires the child," the driver said.

Nash didn't argue. He just nodded, numbly. He looked broken.

As the driver walked toward the dungeon, Kai slid into the seat next to me. The interior of the car was warm and smelled of expensive leather and peppermint.

"You have terrible taste in men," Kai remarked, pouring two glasses of amber liquid from a mini-bar. He handed one to me. "Drink. You look like you’re going to faint."

I knocked the glass out of his hand. It shattered on the floor. "I don't want a drink! I want my son!"

Kai sighed, wiping a drop of liquor from his sleeve. "We will get him. But we have to be smart. Nash isn't in his right mind. That woman..." He glanced out the window at Veronica, who was clinging to Nash like a leech. "She smells like sulfur and old magic."

"Did you see Nash’s face?" I whispered, clutching my chest. "He hates me. He truly hates me."

Kai looked at me, his hazel eyes surprisingly gentle for a moment. "He hates what he *thinks* you are. But his eyes... they were screaming, Remy."

"He didn't remember," I sobbed, burying my face in my hands. "He didn't remember our mark. He called it a glamour."

"He called it glamour because he was told to," Kai said darkly. "Magic like that... it doesn't just erase memories. It destroys the mind. He’s fighting a war in his head and losing."

Ten minutes later, the driver returned. He was carrying a small, shivering bundle wrapped in a thick blanket. He opened the door and placed the bundle on my lap.

"Mommy?"

Sayler’s weak voice was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.

I ripped the blanket back. Sayler was pale, his lips tinged blue from the silver exposure. He had burn marks on his wrists where the shackles had been. But his eyes—those defiant amber eyes—fluttered open.

"I'm here, baby," I cried, hugging him so tight I was afraid I’d hurt him. "I’m here. Mommy’s got you."

Sayler cried into my shoulder, his small body convulsing with sobs. "They hurted me, Mommy. The bad man hurted me."

"I know," I whispered, rocking him. "I know."

I looked up at Kai. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Kai said, looking out the tinted window as the car began to move, slowly rolling away from the pack house. "The spell is still active. And the woman who cast it... she’s not done with us."

We drove past the entrance where Nash and Veronica were standing. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still dark.

Through the tinted glass, I saw Nash watching the car leave. He was standing perfectly still, his hands hanging at his sides. Even from a distance, I could see the tension in his posture.

Then, he did something that made my breath catch.

He clutched his chest, right over his heart.

He doubled over slightly, staggering back a step as if he’d been physically struck. Veronica reached out to steady him, but he shook her off violently.

"What is it?" I whispered, pressing my hand against the window.

Kai followed my gaze. A grim smile touched his lips. "The bond," he said. "It’s screaming. His body knows he’s losing you, even if his brain doesn't. He’s in agony."

Nash fell to his knees in the mud, his head thrown back in a silent scream. He pounded a fist against the ground, looking like a man coming apart at the seams.

"You're breaking his heart," Kai said softly.

"He broke mine first," I whispered back, watching the man I loved shatter in the rearview mirror. "He broke mine first."

But as the car turned the corner, taking us away from the Silver Creek Pack, I felt a ghostly brush against my mind—a feather-light touch of consciousness that wasn't mine.

Remember, a voice whispered in Nash’s tone, faint and full of pain. Remember

I blinked, my heart racing. Had I imagined that? Or was the spell finally starting to crack?

I looked at Sayler, sleeping peacefully in my arms, his golden hair glowing softly in the dim light of the car. We were safe for now. But the war was far from over.