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Traces of magic? my wolf asks, echoing my own question. While it’s not unheard of for some wolves to be able to see the signs that the magic has been used, it’s extremely rare.
“Let’s get out of the damn chairs first,” I say, feeling vulnerable as I’m unable to move. There’s no point in dwelling on Garren’s new ability unless we survive our encounter with the witches.
We each deal with our own ties, trying to break them with brute strength. While at first glance, our hands and feet are tied with what seems like a basic rope, the magic enveloping it makes it far from weak. In fact, the more we pull on it, the more it tightens around our limbs.
“Fuck,” Garren swears under his breath, gasping for air after another failed attempt to get free.
“We’re trapped,” I say with a resigned voice. “There’s nothing we can do. They’re going to interrogate us and use our knowledge to destroy our friends and families. It’s your fault. You should’ve killed me when I asked you to.”
Garren’s head jerks my way, his brows furrowed in barely contained anger. “Don’t you dare give up, Alpha,” he hisses, emphasizing my title.
“Didn’t you hear me?” I ask in disbelief. “There’s nothing we can do. We’re going to die, but if you had killed me when I ordered you to, I would die knowing that I didn’t betray my own kind.”
Garren opens his mouth to argue, but our attention gets called to the voices outside of the door. I strain my ears to catch the conversation between our captors.
“Hekate won’t waste her time with them unless she knows they’re valuable.”
“It’s nearly impossible to get an audience with her. They’re our way in, and I vote that we use them.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” the first voice asks angrily. “We need to confirm their value.”
“Then we should interrogate them ourselves,” the third witch replies. “That way, we’ll know first-hand if we can use them without bringing Hekate’s ire on us.”
The voices grow inaudible as the witches move further away from the door, but Garren and I get the gist of what awaits us. Their leader seems to be feared even among their own kind, which means that the young witch is more powerful and ruthless than we gave her credit for.
Garren and I exchange a look, one that holds no signs of anger. The cards have been dealt and we’ve gotten a shitty hand. It’s bad that the witches have caught two wolves, but a part of me is glad that I’m not alone.
While I don’t know Garren well enough to call him a friend, I’ve come to see him as a powerful and stubborn wolf. He’s been by my side even when I told him not to. He’s proven his loyalty to the pack and showed that he can be relied on. Somewhere along the way, I started to admire him and his resilient spirit. While the Dark Hunters raised up the ranks quicker than any other pack, Garren did it even faster because, after only a couple of months, this mission would already make him a Delta.
Footsteps in front of the door force us to tear our eyes off each other and focus on the imminent threat. The witches must’ve been very confident in their spellcasting abilities because they didn’t even bother to lock the door.
Two figures enter our prison cell, both of similar height and stature. They’re wearing dark cloaks with a large hood that covers their faces, which makes it impossible to distinguish them in any way because they’re too much alike.
“I trust you had a good rest,” one of them says with a chuckle. She lowers her head dangerously close to Garren’s face. “In case you’re wondering, I had the pleasure of putting the clothes on you.”
“That’s enough, Linda,” the other one growls, her words making her coven sister take a step away from Garren. “I’m Yalinda and as you’ve already figured out, this is my sister Linda.”
“I really don’t understand why you’re being so civil,” Linda says, her nose scrunching up with disgust. “They’re nothing but wild dogs.”
We’re far more superior than that, my wolf growls, angry at the half-assed insult.
“That might be so, but it doesn’t mean that we should forget our manners,” Yalinda replies, then turns her hooded head back our way. “It’s up to you two how we do this, but I hope you understand that we’ll get our answers either way.”
“By your disgusting invasion of our thoughts,” Garren says, not bothering to disguise the hatred in his voice. “It’s funny how you call us animals, when in reality, it’s your kind that acts more like them.”
Linda takes a step forward, but her sister lifts her hand, stopping her in her tracks. Yalinda tips her head to the side, and while I can’t see her face, I can only imagine what kind of look she’s giving to Garren.
“What’s your name?” she asks him at last, her voice cordial and controlled.
“My name doesn’t matter,” Garren replies, channeling the arrogance that I was sure Blaine beat out of him during his first week as a Dark Hunter. “It’s my reputation that will interest you.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Yalinda says, sounding amused. “Tell me about it.”
Garren gives the witch a feral smile, his dark eyes shining with danger and menace. “I’ll be known as the wolf who single-handedly massacred four witches with ridiculous names.”
“Hey!” Linda exclaims, seemingly offended by Garren’s remark.
Yalinda’s reaction is the exact opposite of her sister’s as she tips her head back ever so slightly and laughs. She sounds genuinely amused by Garren’s cockiness, which makes me even more nervous.
