Page 9 of Never Tamed
We’re still here, aren’t we?
Then my attention fractures when the bonds between me and Ren, me and Noble, both go tight at the same time.
There’s still time to die. And it’s up to me to make sure it doesn’t happen.
My claws are half-shifted, fingers trembling as I hurry through the narrow hallway, ignoring ruined wedding decorations and the dust drifting like snow. The bond connecting us all feels like a frayed wire in my chest—sparking, then silent.
Noble’s presence flickers just out of reach, his words muffled and cutting out too many times to understand. There are only sensations. They come at once battering me before falling still.
“Come on, man,” I breathe, half to him, half to myself. “Talk to me.”
It’s the worst game of Hot and Cold I’ve ever played.
Turn in the wrong direction and the trail goes faint, the energy distant and the scent fading away.
Adrenaline courses through my veins.
Relying heavily on my nose, I shuffle through the scents of sweat, smoke, and fur, scouring for Noble’s familiar citrus and mint. It’s faint, just a whisper in the air, but there, telling me he passed through this slender hallway a while ago.
No doubt Andras planned the kidnapping as well. To get us off balance. To keep us worried and to hamstring us by taking away one of our key fighters.
Well,fuckAndras.
I follow Noble’s scent toward a storage room connected to the main sanctuary. The door pulls open with a creak, the hinges warped. It hits me the moment I cross the threshold—blood, metallic and sharp.
The space is dark, half-forgotten, with beams leaning, smoke curling through a shattered window like its exhaling last rites. Extra pews rest against the wall, and there are some folded chairs, hanging robes, and gold effigies stored for church services.
Compared to the commotion happening on the other side of the wall, it’s deathly still.
I cup my hands around my mouth. “Noble!”
No answer. Just the groan of the building. The low, ominous creak of stones.
The bond between us has turned eerily quiet again, and my stomach twists. There's no answer from his end and no matter how hard I try to follow the connection, it dead ends.
My gut curdles.
Please, please be alive.
Even without the bond lit, his scent lingers, a trail of footprints cutting through the dust. I shove aside a toppled shelving unit and inhale deeply. The air is thick with misery.
Moldy boxes overflow with bibles and broken candles. Communion trays hold spiderwebs and months of dust.
Beside the trail of footprints, there’s nothing, and even that cuts off at the center of the room like a trick designed to throw me off.
Nothing that hints to Noble being here.
My fingers tap out an erratic rhythm in the air and my heart threatens to speed up and make me dizzy. Where would they be keeping him?
Then, something creaks in the far corner, and my gaze snaps toward it. My pupils constrict, adjusting further to the dim light.
There—beneath a collapsed stack of hymnals is a smear of blood that cuts across the floor and vanishes under a warped wooden panel straight out of the seventies.
It doesn’t match the age of the room. The grain is cleaner, the edge too precise.
Muscles bunching, I shove the debris aside until I’m in front of the panel and crouch. The seam is deceptive. The edges blend into the surrounding wood but it’s definitely a door, and so cleverly hidden, I almost missed it.
My smile turns wild. “Got you, motherfuckers.”
