Page 113 of Shackled By Shadows

Chapter forty-four

Betrayal

WWWOOOORRR!

The sharp, rhythmic screech shatters the silence, yanking me from sleep like a physical blow. My heart pounds as I scramble upright, the relentless wail reverberating through my skull, unlike anything I have heard before, high-pitched, grating, pulsing with urgency. WWWOOOORRR!

Over and over, drilling into my mind, making it impossible to think.

“What the hell—?” I mutter, though no one is there to answer me.

Fumbling in the dark, I yank on my clothes, my fingers working faster than my sluggish, sleep-heavy thoughts.

Whatever this is, it can’t be good. The gods-awful sound alone tells me that. My hands move automatically, securing weapons at my sides, slipping a blade into my boot. Prepared or not, I’m not about to walk out unarmed.

I throw open my door, stepping straight into chaos.

Fae flood the halls, a frantic mass of bodies surging forward, some still fastening buckles or shoving on boots, others gripping weapons with white-knuckled hands. The air buzzes with shouts, the pounding of feet matching the erratic rhythm of my pulse.

I push into the throng, trying to find Zander or Ash, but the press of bodies makes it nearly impossible to navigate. I have no choice but to move with the tide, jostled and shoved as we spill into the main corridor.

The moment we break free into the open courtyard, the icy slap of rain hits me full force.

I gasp at the shock of it, shoving wet strands of hair from my face as I scan the chaos before me.

Fae move with purpose despite the downpour, their movements sharp and efficient. Orders are being shouted, warriors arming themselves, the entire stronghold coming alive in the cold, rain-soaked darkness.

And at the center of it all, Zander and Ash stand like unshaken pillars, directing the madness.

I hurry toward them, my boots splashing through puddles, leathers already soaked and clinging to my skin. They are drenched too, but neither seems to care.

“What’s going on?” I call over the storm and the lingering wail of the alarm.

Zander doesn’t even glance at me, too busy barking orders, his voice cutting through the chaos as Fae rush to obey.

It is Ash who finally answers, his tone grim.

“The wards are down.”

I freeze mid-step. “What?” The word escapes me in a breathless screech. No. That isn’t possible.

“How?” I demand, my voice rising in disbelief.

“How is that even possible?”

Ash shakes his head, rain dripping from his light hair. “I don’t know. But it can’t be good.”

“Has this ever happened before?” I press, needing to know if the wards are weaker than I thought.

I turn to Zander, desperate for more, but his only response is a clipped, “No,” before he continues issuing commands, every movement effortless, as if he has been preparing for this moment his entire life.

Shock roots me in place, my mind racing. The wards are down. That means we are exposed, completely vulnerable. If anyone is looking, they can see us now. Find us. Attack us. Worse, every defense that relied on the wards' magic is now useless.

We are sitting ducks.