Page 118 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“Keep walking.” Ambrose prodded my back with the tip of the gun. I shuddered. When we approached the knife, he said, “Stop here.”

Another prod.

My stomach sank as he kept the gun on me while he stepped around me and went for the knife. This was it. The moment I had planned for over a year after discovering its existence. Breaking my curse. A dream that had only ever been wishful thinking until I knew of the knife’s existence.

And now I was watching Ambrose take that dream.

My pulse roared in my ears as he reached out. His hand closed around the hilt. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then his hand passed right through it. Like the knife wasn’t solid. Like it was some kind of illusion.

I blinked, not quite sure what I was seeing.

Ambrose jerked back, staring at his hand. At the knife. “What⁠—?”

He tried again. Only to have the same result. His fingers passed through the bone hilt without finding purchase. Like trying to grasp a mirage.

“No.” His voice went hard. Angry. “No, that’s not⁠—”

And I couldn’t help my victorious smile as I witnessed his failure. As hope bloomed, raw and visceral in my chest.

He tried a third time, more forcefully. Nothing. The knife remained exactly where it was, untouched and untouchable. “What the fuck?!” he roared, clearly losing patience.

He whirled toward me, pointing the gun at me. “Did you do this? Did you trick me?”

“I…” I gaped at him. What the hell did he think I could have done? “I didn’t do anything.”

And then a new voice filled the space. One that left me equal parts terrified and relieved. “Get the fuck away from my mate.”

29

Axel’s words came out as a snarl, barely human. His wolf was so close to the surface he could feel fur prickling beneath his skin, claws already extended.

Blackthorn whirled, gun still pointed at Rebecca. His eyes—glowing silver with some kind of enhancement spell—widened in surprise before narrowing with calculation.

But Axel only had eyes for her. His mate. Pale and trembling, angry red marks on her wrists, fear-scent thick in the air. And beneath it—he could no longer smell the scent that marked her as a witch. Which meant…

A pit formed in his stomach. Had she used her magic to protect herself? Because he hadn’t been there to protect her like he should have been?

It was his duty—his honor—to protect her from arseholes like this. And…

He’d failed.

He’d arrived at The Roost a few minutes before 7pm, only to find shattered windows and Iris sobbing on the floor. She’d been shaking, babbling about Blackthorn taking Rebecca. “I didn’t mean—he said she belonged with him and that I was better off with you—I just wanted⁠—“

He’d questioned her briefly. Found out that Blackthorn needed her for something. “He took a device out of her bag. It wasn’t a phone.”

“A GPS unit?”

“I… I don’t know. I think he was planning to take her somewhere. To get something. He… He didn’t tell me.”

But Axel already knew. He was already running from the building. He’d called the sheriff while peeling out of his parking spot. Left Iris there. Raced back to his property. Shed his clothes and transformed into his wolf form. He’d barely had the mental foresight to grab the bundle before taking off into the forest.

The unfamiliar UTV sitting outside the cave’s entrance told him everything he needed to know. That somewhere in there, Blackthorn had Rebecca. And he needed to get to her.

There’d been a brief moment after he’d shifted back into his human form, after he’d dressed and raced into the depths of the cave, when he’d panicked.

The walls had pressed in around him the moment he’d entered. His breaths had come faster, his chest beginning to constrict. The darkness, the stone, the memories⁠—