Claire was gone. She had been right in front of him, close enough to touch. But now, she was gone. Colin was both frozen and on fire. His mind ran faster than ever, but he could barely pick up his feet. He pressed his nose to the ground, both bathing in her scent and attempting to track it. But she had just disappeared out of thin air. High-pitched whines escaped his throat as he lifted his head, howling desperately into the sky.  “Silence!” his father commanded him; now that Claire was gone, he had no need for false pretenses of kindness towards his son. Colin’s ears pressed flat against his head as he bowed his head. Elias looked at the bloody wolf, who trembled with rage, and frowned for a moment. He turned back to Alpha Peter and said, “I cannot cross into her lands; the wards will kill me within a moment.” Peter shook his head. “I will not risk my warriors for your hybrid,” he sneered, and Colin growled at his words.    &

  “My dad died seven years ago,” Claire answered coolly. Jocelyn smirked wickedly and feigned embarrassment. Shaking her head, she replied with the same bubbly tone she had used when first meeting Claire in the cage, “My mistake! Of course, your dad is dead. But your father.” Her eyes twinkled as she laughed mischievously, “Your birth father, however, is there.”Claire stood, dumbfounded. She had no witty retort because for some reason, she knew that the old woman was not lying. “How?” she whispered, unsure of what else to say.“No, no. That is not how this will work.” Jocelyn took her seat again, clearly happy to be back in control of the situation. “You will get your answers in turn for cooperation.”Claire’s eyes narrowed, but she was not surprised. She sat on the floor, realizing just how exhausted she was. Closing her eyes, she ignored the witch. If the old woman

         Claire hummed softly as she leaned against the wall with her eyes closed. It was an old French song that Elias sang to her years ago. Some sort of lullaby sung during to the royal children the early Capetian dynasty, back when the French were called ‘Francs.’ It was originally a Troubadour’s ballad about a young noblewoman learning to dance with her milk brother, and how they secretly fell in love. He had hummed it in the beginning, back when the pain kept her awake and paralyzed, when it was all that she could think of. She hadn’t even remembered that he was the one who taught it to her until she went to sing the words under her breath and realized they were Old French, not English. That made her stop and burn with rage, both at herself and Elias.         “Don’t stop on my account,” a tired voice said from the other side of the room.&nbs

            With every step that Jocelyn and her goons took towards Claire, Colin’s growl grew louder and louder. It rumbled the ground as Jocelyn opened the door to the cell, but it didn’t faze them. They could see his fangs drop, his eyes turn amber, and hear his bones crack as he tried to shift. But the enchanted silver cuffs around him did their job of protecting them. There wasn’t enough to hurt him the way the silver room in the packhouse did, but it was enough to bring him to his knees as he helplessly watched them pick her up.             “What are you doing? Where are you taking her?” he growled, clutching his cracked ribs.             Jocelyn turned on her heels and marched up to his door. One of the witches, the same one that had dropped the boulder onto Colin’s back, followed with a stony glar

         Claire slowly opened her eyes, wincing as the fluorescent light of the room blinded her. She tried to sit up, but a shooting pain ran down her spine, and she remembered the last thing that happened before she passed out. She wanted to growl and curse the old Priestess, but she felt too weak to do more than groan while rolling onto her side.         The door slowly opened, and she stiffened, hating how fear coursed through her. Gritting her teeth over her throbbing body’s argument, she sat up against the wall on the bed, glaring at the entryway.         It was the man, the one who brought Colin in. The one who Jocelyn sent after him. Claire growled softly as he closed the softly, staring at her. He rubbed the back of his bald head, a clear expression of guilt on his face. Reaching up, he snapped the vent shut, and almost immediately, C