And what I see makes me want to burst into tears. More tears, because apparently that’s my entire identity now.
They’re here. All of them.
“They shifted and ran to the edge of her ward, after the witches let them go,” Orion explains. “After they caught up with us, they came back. For you.”
All the missing shifters. Ratty clothes, some naked, all filthy. Diya rushes over and wraps her arms around my head, squeezing me into her chest.
“It was you. The whole time, I heard you. We heard you, we knew you were coming. Thank you,” she cries into my shoulder.
I try to hug her back but Orion shifts me in his arms and steps away.
I meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. We should have moved faster. Come sooner.” My eyes flick to her belly and her eyes water in understanding.
She squares her shoulders. “We’ve already lost too much. Let’s not lose another second thinking about what they’ve done.”
Time blurs as Orion carries me to the SUV, my body limp against his chest. My teeth chatter uncontrollably, and despite the warmth of his embrace, a bone-deep chill has settled into me. Each breath feels shallow, insufficient, like I’m trying to inhale through a wet cloth.
He purrs and it rattles against me, stirring something loose inside me that won’t quite break free.
We made it. We survived. That should count for something.
But I don’t feel any better. Something gnaws at me, and the hollow ache remains.
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Chapter 39: Grayson
Magic slams into my chest, hurling me backward until concrete meets spine. Dust clouds my vision, settling into my black fur as I struggle to my feet. With a snarl, I launch myself at the nearest witch, spitting out the sulfuric taste of their blood after ripping into their throat. Darting between them, I snap and claw, creating a wall of protection for Ghost while he works to dismantle Deidre’s barrier. The witches throw spells at us, frantic and desperate as they realize they’re losing.
The witches are no match for Kendrick, and at last, Ghost collapses the barrier with a final push of power. Sweat drips down his forehead. He looks exhausted, but he’s still standing.
Silas tears ahead of me, a predator locked on prey, his hatred for the witch like gasoline in his veins. I sprint after him, lungs burning, down rows of shaking metal stairs, descending deeper into darkness, the walls closing in around us, the air thick with the oppressive weight of the silo. Kendrick, Ghost, and Andrea can handle what’s left of the witches.
It isn’t until we’re five stories underground that we hear it. Footsteps. Quick and light. Distinct rapid footfalls, the fabric of a dress swooshing against ankles and the floor as she hurries along.
She thinks she’s getting away. She had a plan, and she nearly got what she wanted.
The sound ignites something feral in Silas. He picks up speed, his wolf’s hind paws landing near his front, propelling him forward like a spring on a track. He shifts mid-leap, fur receding into his skin as he crashes into the witch, driving her into the ground.
A green light crackles from Deidre’s fingertips as she tries to shield herself, the magic sizzling against Silas’s skin. Before she can cast again, my teeth find her forearm, sinking through fabric and flesh. The spell leaves angry red welts across Silas’s already scarred chest, but they’re fading as his shifter healing takes over. He stands and rolls his shoulders, as if the pain is nothing.
With my jaw locked around her, Silas’s hand encircles her throat. I release my grip and shift, taking a stand beside my twin.
“It’s over, Deidre,” Silas rasps, voice rough like gravel. “It’s done. You’redone.” His words quiver with something between rage and fear. Even now, after everything both good and bad, here at the end, with her bleeding and at his feet, at his mercy, I can still hear the shame in his voice. How small she once made him.
Her nails rake desperately at his grip as her face reddens, and she struggles for air, mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from water.
“Remember when you choked me?” He squeezes tighter. “Raped me? Tortured me with fire? Sold my body to your friends?”
I shift uncomfortably. I feel hot and angry and unsure. It’s like I’m not even here. He’s lost in a world where only they exist. It’s a place in his mind he’s still trying to break free from.
His hand shifts, fur rippling along his arm, fingers turning to claws.
“Silas,” I warn. She deserves death, but I saw what he did to her second, Pierre. I don’t want his soul any more tortured or burdened with darkness.
“Remember when you brought that first shifter to me? Years ago, before the dozens that came after her? Remember what you made me do to her? She forgave me, you know, in the end. Before she killed herself.”
His other hand shifts into a claw, ripping into her dress, exposing the soft flesh of her belly. Deidre is still gagging, slapping uselessly at the grip around her throat.
