“Christian? Can you hear me? Are you there?”
Izzy.
My heart skips.
Is she here with me again? I don’t know if I want her to be. This place is dangerous, and my wolf is a feral enigma. I would never forgive myself if he hurt her.
“Izzy,” I whisper to myself, my voice raw and my chest tight.
I take a step forward, then another, then another, moving faster with each consecutive one. The sound of her voice guides me through the darkness.
“Izzy,” I say again, louder this time, the urgency clear in my tone.
“I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you’re in there, come back to me. Come back to us. We need you.”
My legs push me forward, faster now, every step a battle. The darkness seems to shift, to bend around me, but I don’t care. I just focus on her voice. It’s getting louder, clearer. I can feel the pull—the only thing keeping me from losing myself in the abyss, the darkness.
“Is there anything I can do?” Izzy sounds irritated.
Who is she talking to?
Then an unfamiliar voice—male. “I’ve never brought someone back who already turned feral, but… But I’ll look into it. I promise.”
Her voice shakes. “Thank you, Travan.”
Travan? Who the fuck is Travan?
Despite my situation, a spear of unfamiliar jealousy pierces my heart. I absently rub at my chest.
“I’m coming, Izzy,” I say, wondering if she can hear me.
“I won’t give up on you,” she whispers. “I promise.”
Her words hit me like a storm, but in the best way. They surge through me, flooding my chest with warmth and determination. The darkness, the weight of the world, the damn wolf—they all start to fade, as if they can’t hold me here any longer. I’m breaking free, and nothing is going to stop me now.
I’m almost out, almost to her.
And nothing—no one—will stop me.
Forty-Seven
IZZY
Ichoose to cancel dinner with my fathers tonight. I’m just not ready to deal with them. I still have yet to process everything Travan told me.
Instead, I have Jake drive me to the Council headquarters, where he leads me into a room below ground they reserve for feral wolves.
Christian paces in his cell, his teeth bared, saliva dribbling onto the bedding below him.
I sit outside of his cell, my back against the wall, as I flip through my mother’s book.
“You would have all the answers,” I whisper, wondering if she—wherever she is—can hear me.
It’s too hard to see properly, so I’ve given up on reading a bit ago. Instead, I just mindlessly flip through the pages, dimly making out strange illustrations and random words.
One captures my attention, and I squint, struggling to read it better.
Is this a chapter on Hearts?
