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He doesn’t try to block me. I fling the door open and stomp out, and he doesn’t say a goddamn thing. The door slams shut and thunders in the silent hallway. No one seems to give a shit. No one pokes their heads out or yells at me as I storm away.

Fuck him.

Fuck his wolf for biting me, for kidnapping me and then getting me abducted, for thinking that I could do anything to break a curse. For setting me back weeks saving my mother.

I want to find the blood witch for her, and he wants to find her for the curse. It still leaves the question of why he needs me.

He doesn’t. His wolf is in charge of that one, I fear. He could’ve moved on and let Gage kill me. I was on the cusp of it.

It was selfish of him to come for me.

And selfish of me to stay.

I touch my neck. I almost wish I carried some physical reminder of trauma with me. Instead, it’s all locked up in my head. Even the marks the cuffs left are gone. But I close my eyes and Sonia’s teeth cut into my skin, her tongue lapping at my blood. The cold creeps through me. The burning agony in my chest.

Tears fill my eyes. I haven’t cried in a really fucking long time. I didn’t let tears shed in the cell. At times, I was too tired or too angry. And I really didn’t want to show Gage a drop more of vulnerability than he already saw.

What if I can’t get over it?

What if he broke me?

Fear shoots through me, and I slip on the stairs. I tumble and land in a heap on the landing, my muscles aching.

Another prick of fear, swallowed by an avalanche of anger.

The wolf shifters are manipulating me at every turn.

I involuntarily call up the trickle of power I have left. It’s not all there, waiting for me to tap into it. It’s still sick and starving, just the same as me.

But I lean into what I have, and I slam my hands to the step above me.

Instinct. Desperation.

Anger.

It comes in a wave. My vision goes white. My hair stands up.

And for the first time, I transport on purpose.

Chapter 28

Kian

Irush into the stairwell. I was letting her get air, but she wasn’t going to make it out of the inn without me.

At the sound of her fall, I jump into action. Angry or not–and she definitely is, judging by the emotion crawling through our bond–she’s still my witch.

She’s at the bottom of the stairs, sprawled on the floor. She looks at her palms, and her expression isn’t angry, it’s sad. Her skin glows, and she seems to choke on nothing for a moment. The pressure in the stairwell builds. She lets out a noise of frustration and hits the step above her.

The pressure pops in a blast of searing light. It’s too bright to keep my eyes on her, and when I look next, she’s gone.

I inhale the scent of magic and glance around. Honey and lemon. Nothing else.

The feel of our bond is so subtle. I hurry down to where she was just lying. I touch the step she hit. Her magical signature is here, marked on the worn carpet.

My wolf’s panic slams into me. He seems more concerned about the bond than where she went. He paces in my mind’s eye, and I close my eyes to better focus inward. I examine the bond.

It’s intact, I tell him.