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The coin felt cold in my hand when it should’ve warmed to my body temperature by now, reminding me that nothing from here on would be as I expected it to be. I wasn’t sure if that was comforting to know or scary as fuck. Probably both.
As we moved away from the main room, a slow, steady breeze filled the underground passageways, pushing away the sweet smoke. But we’d been on a downward slope for our entire walk. My chest constricted more and more with every step we took, and even though the air started to smell of sage again, the soothing scented breeze couldn’t dry the sweat beading on my forehead.
I hated being underground. My Alpha—my grandfather—used to lock me up in a deep, dark dirt pit. It was ten-feet square and seventy-five-feet deep and I’d scream for him to please let me out as he closed the trapdoor. But then, he’d order me quiet. Not even a kid could disobey their Alpha.
I used to sit in there—unable to utter a sound—and try to figure out what I had done to upset him. When my wolf finally matured, I realized that my grandfather’s behavior had nothing to do with me. My pack was filled with bitten, broken, and rejected wolves. The Seven—who were supposed to protect and rule all the werewolves—should’ve killed all of them long before I’d been born.
It’d been a while since I was set free from my pack. A long time since they threw me, beaten and barely breathing, into the punishment pit for the last time. But no matter how many years passed since my pack was sent to hell or how far away I was from that seventy-five-foot hole in the earth, I still hated being underground. Hated the still air that strangled my lungs. Hated being held at the whims of something far more powerful than me.
Another bead of sweat ran down my face, but my hands were shaking too bad to swipe it away. I didn’t even try. Every muscle in my body was tightened to the point of pain, and my heart felt hard and heavy as ring after ring of barbed-wire panic wrapped around it.
Fighting a cave filled with vampires and seeing the depths of hell open before me only intensified my hatred of being underground, but here I was, descending into the unknown depths one more time.
I had to tell myself that I was doing this for Cosette as we stopped in front of a stone door. Cosette was worth everything. My easygoing nature was a defense, and one that I’d use here. I worked on easing my tight muscles, telling myself that this was something that would pass, as all things did eventually. I just had to get through it.
Rayvien put her hand on the door and it turned into scentless smoke. “In.”
The room was nice. A door inside was open to a bathroom. A mattress lay on the floor surrounded by colorful pillows. Books in various languages took up one wall. Even without a TV it was nicer than my room at home, but I was left with one big question. “How do I get out?”
I’d never seen a non-Were give me such a wolfy grin before, but that was what I was looking at.
Before I could say anything else, Rayvien shoved me through the doorway. I hit the floor in the room and turned just in time to see the stone re-form.
My heart sped and my lungs tightened and the room seemed to get smaller and smaller and smaller until I stumbled back, falling onto the mattress behind me.
Trapped. I was trapped in a glorified cave with no way out.
Chapter Six
COSETTE
I showered to scrub all of the blood from my skin. It took longer than I wanted, but the assassin’s blood had trickled deep into my hair, behind my ears, and somehow—even though I didn’t physically fight him—it was under my nails.
When I was satisfied that every speck was gone, I changed into something I could fight in—pants, boots, a pull-over that had plenty of room. I had weapons I could call in on command—including some given to me by my father. I didn’t like using them. They made my heart race with power in a way that terrified me, but I had used them before. I would again if I needed them.
I hated that my life revolved around this. Around a battle of powers and assassination attempts. It’s why I left court.
I checked my phone. No messages from Chris.
Damn it, Chris. Answer me.
I sent one more before I could stop myself. My feelings about Chris were bordering on obsession. I wasn’t sure why I was so terrified. I didn’t trust Eli, but he wouldn’t have shown up to seal the spell if he was going to let Christopher die on some stupid mission of his.
But there was always a chance that something could go wrong. Even if I couldn’t be there to help, I wanted to at least know what was going on. And yet I had my own drama to deal with.
I was questioning everything. Every interaction with any fey I’d had for the last three weeks. The murmured whispers behind my back that I’d brushed off. All the deals I’d cashed in—years’ worth of favors—that got me nowhere. Had I been sealing my own fate? Was I still alive by dumb luck?
But no one had tried to kill me until today, and if anyone tried to poison me, then it hadn’t worked. I think I would’ve noticed both, but clearly I hadn’t noticed an assassin that was in my suite for days. Days.
Mother of God. My focus was terrible if I let someone in here for that long. If I knew then what I knew now and everything that it was going to cost me and how miserable I was going to be, maybe I wouldn’t have agreed to spy on the coven—
No. That wasn’t true. Even with everything, the end result was happy. I’d made true friends in Texas and didn’t regret a moment I spent with them. They would never plot against me or use me, and they certainly didn’t fault me for not being honest about what and who I was. Instead, they always seemed happy to see me and grateful for my help, even if my gut turned into a bottomless, bubbling pool of green envy when I saw how happy Dastien and Tessa were together.
I didn’t want Dastien—he wasn’t my type—but their love seemed so easy. No limits or bounds. They had a true partnership in less than two decades, when I’d dreamed of it for nearly two centuries and had nothing to show for it.
And with that horribly depressing thought, I left my bedroom and plopped onto the couch in my living room. The cleaning staff must’ve been here because there wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere in the room, the chair had either been fixed or replaced with an identical one, and the air smelled like fresh roses.
But they’d left behind that awful binder. The cover gleamed a little, and I wondered if they’d cleaned it, too.
