Page 45 of Lycan Witch

“I loveyou,” Adara whispers, pain filling her voice. Her hair hangs in a mess around her shoulders, and her shirt is smeared with blood. Tears track clean lines down her face, and her voice shakes as it gets louder. “I love you, Gideon, and whatever this is, you have to fight through it!”

“I love you too,” I say softly, wanting to carve my heart out and hand it to her so she’ll never again mistake another for me.

But I can’t blame her for believing what’s standing right before her eyes because the way Monique looks, the way she talks, is so close it’s damn near perfect. The nicknames, the temper, the violence… Gods, after fingering her way through my mind, Monique was able to grasp a few small memories, and it was just enough to make her act believable.

Monique chuckles at Adara as she backs away, and my gut tightens, unable to stop watching my worst nightmare come to life. I wish I’d listened to her before I left this morning. Maybe if I’d brought Frank with me, it wouldn’t be like this. Maybe—

But maybes and regrets won’t fix anything.

A scream rips from my lips, scratching my throat, burning my chest. My heart is on fire, and my soul cracks as the mate bond between us frays.

I can’t lose someone else to these witches. I can’t lose her.

A small white sedan flies down the driveway, whipping around my truck and spewing gravel in every direction. Mila sits behind the steering wheel, and I’ve never felt such an overwhelming amount of relief, of gratitude. I clench my jaw as a lump forms in my throat, watching Adara throw herself into the car as it tears back down the drive toward the road.

Rage paints itself on my own face staring back at me through the magic ball, and laughter bubbles out of me. The irony of Adara getting away from Monique with the help of the wolves she tried so hard to teach her to hate isn’t lost on me. Tears stream down my face as I lay on the cement floor of the lodge’s basement, staring up at the ceiling, unable to tame the wild laughter pouring from me.

Monique’s hatred of my pack will only grow after this—after Adara ran to me for help the last time Monique attacked her, and now another one of my pack has helped her escape for a second time. The small bubble of joy I felt at the reflected rage the crystal ball showed me is quick to burst—because Adara doesn’t know that it wasn’t me.

That it wasn’t me that hurt her. That looked at her with hatred and disgust. That thinks she’s pathetic and powerless. Because Iknowshe isn’t. She has more power than any witch I’ve ever met, including her hellish mother. A small, sad smile spreads across my face—once Adara learns control and can grapple with the full extent of her powers, wolf and witch alike, they’ll all suffer. They’ll burn at her feet when she discovers the torment they’ve caused.

A faint clicking pulls me out of a sleep I must’ve slipped into. Looking around myself, I see a sliver of moonlight pouring from one of the high up half-windows at the top of the basement’s walls.

Sighing, I roll onto my side, my wrists throbbing fiercely. I pull them to my face, looking over the deep gashes in my skin, unable to heal while these cuffs stay on me and suppress my wolf and his powers. Monique’s spell shouldn’t be able to last indefinitely, and when it wears off, I can only hope that my pack won’t be in shambles and Frank will still trust me.

I close my eyes, wanting to go back to sleep and into the dream where Adara lays wrapped in my arms, when I never go to the lodge and choose to stay with her instead. Or the dream before that where we weren’t werewolves at all, only humans, living ignorantly, blissfully unaware of the supernatural world around us.

My head snaps around as a loud screech sounds by the window. A shadow moves past the glass, and I squint into the dark night, trying to make out the movements when the glass shatters. I pull my hands over my head, shielding myself from the shards raining down above me. One pokes into my hand, and I freeze when it happens again and again. Lowering my arms, I find myself face to face with two beady black eyes. The raven tilts his head from side to side, ruffling his wings, his feathers glinting in the low light of the moon.

I blink a few times, not believing that this bird—this familiar—is really sitting before me. He hops away, moving to the window, and I struggle into a sitting position, the chains clanking together with the movement. “I can’t…” I let my words trail off as a wolf slips through the window, struggling through the small opening before falling inside and landing on its paws.

It shakes out its auburn fur, moving toward me, and chestnut eyes meet mine.

“Frank?” I say, my voice hoarse as I try to hold back tears. I shake my head after a minute, raising my wrists. “Enchanted chains. I can’t hear you. I can’t even hear my own bastard’s voice.”

He walks over to me, inspecting the chains before padding back to the window and looking outside. A bundle falls through the open frame, heavy as it thuds against the cement floor. Frank shifts, his body unfolding as he stands to his full height. He bends down, unfurling the wrapping and lifting a set of metal bolt cutters. He throws me a smile as he lifts them up. “Came prepared, boss.”

I shake my head again. “They’re enchanted.” Glancing at the window, I clench my jaws at the worry piercing through me. “You shouldn’t stay long, Frank. If—”

He raises a brow. “You worried about some council pricks suddenly? Or the bitch who punched me while wearing your face?” He bends down, clamping the cutters around one of the chains encasing my wrists. “The Gideon I know wouldn’t let a witch beat his mate the way she did and get away with it. He sure as hell wouldn’t be telling me to leave his ass in some dungeon in the woods while his mate suffered out there, thinking it was really him who hurt her.” He grunts as he snaps the cutters, the metal falling away, then raises his eyes to mine. “I told you I came prepared—with enchanted bolt cutters. Give me some credit.”

He makes quick work of the second chain, and I rub my sore wrists as the metal falls onto the ground. My wolf’s powers surge through me, his strength giving life back to my tired muscles.

You gods damn fool,he growls.

I chuckle under my breath. “Missed you too, you mangy bastard.” Glancing up, I watch Kaylus fly in circles above my head before looking back at Frank, who tosses the cutters up through the window. “How did you know?”

Frank looks at me over his shoulder, his gaze flitting to the raven. “A little birdie told us.”

I narrow my gaze at him. “Kaylus can’t talk to anyone but Adara.”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Still can’t take a joke. The raven came to us after getting some… unexpected help. A coven witch.”

“A witch?”

He gestures out the window, ignoring my question. “Come on, see for yourself.”

I move toward him as he shifts and jumps through the window. I let my claws lengthen, staring down at my hands, the wounds on my wrists already healing. The raven glides down, landing on my shoulder, and presses his beak to my cheek. I shrug him off, and he flies through the window after Frank’s mahogany wolf. “Idiots,” I whisper, a smile gracing my lips briefly before I shift and jump through the small frame after them, curious to discover the witch who’s decided to help me.

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