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Chapter 13
I’d broken into dozens of homes, but no other job left me as swimming in nerves as this one. I wasn’t even stealing anything, just doing a recon. Yet the whole magic protection spell had me on edge. Not even the lord’s home had such security. While this ward wasn’t created to keep me out, what exactly were they doing in here to keep shifters at bay? Usually, before breaking into any place, I did my homework, watched the area for a week or two to determine the routine of the occupants, how many lived there, their behavior, and even what day they visited the markets. I constructed a complete pattern of who I was dealing with.
This is why you shouldn’t have rushed into this.
“Quiet,” I whispered.
I stepped on a twig and it crunched. Panic struck my chest, and I froze in place, waiting for someone to come rushing outside from the mansion. No one did. I glanced over my shoulder but could no longer see the three men beyond the thick shrubbery and trees backing the property. Perhaps I’d stick to exploring the yard and home from outside, then leave. I could return once I’d worked out what was going on and come up with a clearer action plan.
But Reed would protest, and how could I blame him? His sister and pride members were captured. A single day’s delay might lead to their deaths.
Hunched low, I ran to the back of the house just as the lights to a room on the bottom floor illuminated. Luckily, a curtain covered the window. My breaths died, and I flattened myself against the wall.
Muffled noises streamed out, so I moved closer and peered inside through a tiny gap at the corner of the curtain. A hooded man sat in a chair on one side, his arms folded, his face concealed by shadows. One leg crossed his other, his ankle resting on the thigh. Why was he concealing his face?
Because he’s a psycho, clearly.
Two nude men stumbled into the room as if shoved from behind. Both were riddled with cuts and bruises. One swung around and slammed a fist into someone behind them. The other leaped for the hooded man. But four guards in black attire jumped after him and hammered punches and kicks into both of the men.
I cringed on the inside, stiffening at seeing their suffering.
Yet the hooded figure sat there, unperturbed, watching the fucking show like a monster. He’d done this before.
If you get close enough, jab him with your knife right in the eye.
My pulse pounded through my veins. What the hell was going on in this house?
Both victims heaved for air on their knees, bleeding from new injuries. Hooded Man got up and kicked one in the face with his boot. I gasped and hugged my stomach. He snatched the second man’s arm and cracked it over a knee, snapping the bone. The victim’s howl reached me, and my chest constricted. I reached for my blade, my arm twitching with the urgency to slam my blade into his throat. His cape slipped open, revealing a solid body wearing all black. He clenched the victim’s neck in a vise-like fist and said something, but I couldn’t make out the words. He then tossed the innocent to the ground.
Rage boiled deep in my core, scorching hot as bubbling lava. I clenched my fists, hungry for destruction. I stood no chance against the number of men inside, but the image in front of me sickened me. The same darkness that had swallowed me whole each time the gargoyle had beaten me now fueled my rage.
A bluish energy line surged from across the room and struck both naked men in the backs. They screamed and convulsed on the floor, frothing at the mouths. I shuddered, tensing all over. Was someone killing them? I inched sideways to see who’d cast the magic, but my viewing range was limited.
The victims’ bodies elongated, their skins tearing and black fur spreading over their bodies like an army of ants on a rampage. They weren’t dying, but being forced into a transformation. I watched, mesmerized, and within moments, two panthers stood in the room.
They staggered as if still dazed when the guards approached them and clasped something around their necks. Tiny flickers of energy jumped across their flesh. Must have been how they controlled the shifters, or was it to keep them in their animal form? But why?
The panthers lowered their heads in a submissive manner and slinked toward the hooded figure. They sat at his feet, as if nothing had happened. Was he the dick in charge, using a witch to control shifters? I trembled with anger that this fuckhead dared to take it upon himself to treat others like slaves. At the same time, it scared me to go up against someone with such powers. I stepped closer for a better look, but a branch snapped under my boot.
One of the guards whirled in my direction and marched toward the window.
All the warmth drained from my body, and I jerked away, pressing my back flat against the wall, still as a statue. Bright light streamed out of the window, illuminating the grassy yard from the fabric being drawn back. One movement or sound and I’d give my position away.
The light faded, and in haste, I sidestepped, keeping my back to the wall, my heart in my mouth. I tensed, desperate to run.
A faint rattle came from behind me. I snapped around to find myself standing beneath a darkened window. Hanging inside was a chime made up of three strings tied with bones. They swayed and clung to each other, as if a breeze moved them. Yet the window remained shut.
My chest turned to stone. A trespass detector—and it had just gone off.
I backed away, my feet growing sluggish. I stared toward my shifters but couldn’t see them past the shrubbery as I hurried toward the fence.
When the screech of hinges from a door sounded, I rocked on the spot and jumped behind a tree, holding my breath. The thing about witches was that running from them was useless, and I’d always found negotiation the best course—playing into their egos. Sweat trickled down my back as fear squeezed my lungs.
Stay silent until they leave. Then run.
A breeze sailed past, shaking the leaves and branches overhead.
“Elliana.” A female voice sang my name as if it were a lullaby, and goosebumps rose along my flesh at the magic in the air.
