I've been in the dungeons with Lina for about a week now—maybe more. I stopped counting after day three. It's too torturous, too humiliating, to keep track. Not that I needed to. Every day, there was some new prisoner thrown in, and with them came the same muttered complaints, the same tired blame. "We can thank that idiot boy for letting this happen." "That moron has let our territory fall to ruin." "I can't believe he cast out the Luna for a skinwalker." I heard it constantly, as if the stone walls were echoing it louder just to break me down. Every word stabbed. Like they thought I wanted this to happen. Like I knew what Lina was when I brought her here. Like I had some plan to destroy the BlueMont pack. I didn't. I never did. I was just trying to be alpha. How could I have known Bonnie was doing all that behind the scenes? She never told me anything. All she ever did was glare at me like I was in her way. If she had just communicated—just said one goddamn thing—I might have
Thankfully, we made it down the cliff in one piece. I held on tight to Tanya's fur as she carried all three of us—me, the mother, and her son—through the dense forest. Her powerful muscles surged beneath me as I pumped what was left of my magic into her with every breath, keeping her speed steady and her steps strong. Trees blurred past, wind whipped at my face, and my fingers trembled from the effort it took to maintain our hold. I was basically running on fumes now. "I can see the camp!" the kid's mother cried out, her voice trembling with relief. I lifted my head and spotted the familiar outline of the Summerton perimeter through the thinning trees... but something was off. The camp didn't look safe anymore. At the edge of the barrier stood a tall, statuesque woman with platinum blonde hair and evacuated, sunken features—like she'd risen from the ashes of some long-dead civilization. She stood calmly just outside the magical perimeter, arms relaxed but her posture screaming
I woke up to cold. Not the kind of cold that makes you shiver a little and reach for a blanket—but the kind that sinks into your bones, that lets you know right away you're somewhere you shouldn't be. The floor beneath me was damp and uneven, and the air reeked of mildew and iron. I blinked hard, eyes adjusting to the dim glow of flickering lanterns that hung directly from iron bars. Iron bars. I sat up fast, heart slamming in my chest. We were in a cell. The source of the dim light was the series of lanterns hooked right into the bars themselves—like someone wanted to make sure we saw every inch of the cage we were trapped in. It looked like a cave, but reinforced. Too smooth in some places to be fully natural, too crude to be anything official. And Tanya was sitting right across from me, puffy-eyed and staring. When our gazes met, she jumped. "You woke up!" she said, a little too loud, a little too relieved. "What's going on?" I asked, already scanning the cave cell for weak
I walked along the shimmering line of the barrier, its energy faintly tingling against my skin as we passed it. Robbie Jr. nestled against my chest in his sling, dressed in a baby tracksuit that made him look like the tiniest, angriest little bouncer in town. Tanya walked beside me, arms crossed, occasionally tapping the hilt of her dagger like she was itching for a fight. The sun filtered softly through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor and the wide, thriving camp that had formed near the edge of our protected territory. The barrier's edge was more than just a feeling—it was like stepping from humid summer air into a cool breeze, that distinct moment where magic met nature. Beyond the barrier, birds still chirped, the forest still whispered, but everything seemed... quieter. More cautious. Inside, though, the mood was far from grim. Soldiers bustled around doing drills, sparring, sharpening blades, laughing between patrols. It wasn't the kind of camp prepar
I heard the hesitation in his voice before I even saw his face. "Dad," Jason said nervously. His father looked up from behind his desk, exhausted but still trying to muster a smile. "Hey. I just sent out word for help to deal with the rogues." "You want to get rid of us?" a voice said sharply—and I felt a chill run down my spine. A tall man stepped into the Alpha's office, pale as snow with wild white hair and blue eyes that gleamed like they could see through bone. His rogue energy filled the air instantly, sour and rotten like decay. Lina was beside him, shrinking under the weight of it. Jason's dad stood sharply. "Jason, why the hell did you bring a rogue into this house?" "I had no choice but to!" Jason barked back. "It's not very polite of you to speak like I'm not even here," the white-haired man said with a casual smirk. "I go by the name Jack. As you can tell, I'm the rogue that commands the horde." Oh shit. "We were only able to get in here thanks to the nonexistent
I watched Lina writhe on the bed, her fingers clawing at her cheeks like she could rip the pain off her skin. "It hurts," she cried. "It hurts so much!" Shit, again? It'd been a month. A full month of nonstop whining, sobbing, and groaning from Lina. Her face was still stuck in that weird half-rotted state, patches of gray and green discoloration creeping across her jawline and neck like bruises that never faded. Nothing healed it. Not ointments, not magic, not healers, not even the dumb prayers from those elders. Bonnie never cried like this. She took pain like a soldier. And now she was—no. I'm not thinking about her again. She's dead. But this? This constant mess on my bed, sobbing and wailing? It was driving me insane. "I'll find help for you somewhere," I told Lina, though my voice came out more irritated than comforting. And even as I said it, I had no damn clue where that help was supposed to come from. We'd already thrown everything at her. Just like we did with Elliot.