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It’s easier to disarm the enemy when they don’t know what you’re thinking. Emotionally you can give away a lot.
They rip me from the bed, forcing me to my feet while placing heavy metal rings around my wrists that do nothing to me. I’m allowing this to happen. Each one locks into place with a loud, audible click, the sharp edges digging in and breaking the skin before I’m forced to walk. Each step stings. Their touch on my arms makes my stomach cramp.
No one speaks, though. That’s fine.
Their breathing heavy, yet controlled.
There’s one presence, though, that is stronger in the group. A leader, but he keeps his distance and watches, yet his aura is tinged with malicious intent. Darkness and envy. Magic.
I want to question him. Demand answers, but then we’re descending the stairs, and growls pick up in volume. Multiple wolves, and they’re angry—loud and close. Volatile, and warning me with the sound that they want my blood.
That I’m the enemy on their land.
We don’t stop until we exit a door and walk out into the early morning air. A man on either side of me, hands gripping my upper arms tightly, and two in the front and back. I’m counting the different set of steps.
The breathing patterns. The individual scents.
I might be complacent now, but I’m not weak. Can defend myself and torture, too, if needed.
Besides that, there’s the hint of light coming from the bottom edge of the fabric covering my eyes, just enough that I make out the forest floor and what looks like a cabin up ahead. At least, that’s what I think it is after walking for a while. The structure is older, a little unkept, and far enough from the royal manor to be undetected.
Why didn’t I see this coming?
No warning. No vision. My mind is blurry today.
Inhaling deep, I calm myself and don’t react. They can’t stop my magic, my wrath, but keeping a level head will help them more than me.
Taking a life is Gabriella’s forte, but she’s taught me enough to disable if needed.
Plenty can happen in a few seconds.
The door opens, and a pair of high-heeled feet come into partial view. And still, no one talks, but I sense jerky hand movements before I’m ushed in and straight into another room. Darker. Colder.
These floors carry the weight of pain and blood. The structure weeps for the lives lost.
Someone snaps their fingers, and the shackles on my wrists are attached to a chain on the wall, my feet too. Heavy, the metal clangs before all males exit and two people remain.
“Good morning, Witch, the female voice says, her hand gripping my face a second before the blindfold comes off. Dim lighting bathes us and my eyes haven’t adjusted yet, but it’s easy to pick up the familial resemblance between her and Xadiel. She’s not his mom, but a close relative and carries a smidge of mint in her scent. “Are you comfortable?”
“Who are you?” My voice is a little wobbly, but I clear it. “Why am I here?”
“My apologies.” Her laughter grates on my skin. It’s high pitched and fake. “I’m Theresa Evergreen, and this is the royal Beta, Timoth.”
“No last name?” Pinging my attention between the two, I keep track of their movements. She’s dressed in a beautiful, floor-length black dress with delicate beading at the sweetheart neckline. He, on the other hand, is wearing a uniform that’s almost military-like.
And both carry the stench of deceit along with something else.
What it is sits on the tip of my tongue; I recognize it but words fail me. Just like that film like cover obscuring my gift of sight at the moment, it won’t stay that way for long. I’ll work through it.
However, I recognize it as ancient. Powerful.
“That’s not important, Isabella Moore.” Theresa’s hand slips from my face, her nail leaving behind a few light scratches that will heal quickly. Most of the marks Xadiel left on me are already gone; all but the bite on my neck. That one hurts; I feel the heat coming off it.
“So you do know who I am.”
“I do.” Her tone is condescending as is her smirk, and both hide her disdain for the mark. How her eyes keep coming back to the red-tinged indent of his teeth on my neck. “But that’s not what’s important right now.”
“You’re right, love.” Beta Timoth steps up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. The act pulls a giggle from the woman who looks about fifty but could be centuries old for all I know. There’s knowledge and pride in her eyes, but more predominant is the greed. “Nothing matters but the end game.”
