The woman waves a hand at the two witch men, who dutifully walk away. Then she steps forward and puts a hand on Lawson’s shoulder. She doesn’t even cringe at the blood that soaks his shirt. “That’s a good dog. Now, I want to know all about the packs. But especially their protections. Tell me about those stolen sigils that mark the territory. Howl for me, wolf.”
Lawson begins to speak. Haltingly at first, as if he hurts too much to talk, but then the words come faster, more wild and desperate. He barely seems in his right mind anymore, and I wonder if she’s using more than just physical abuse and torture to get him to speak. Is her magic somehow creeping into his mind too?
However she managed to break him, Lawson doesn’t hold anything back. I know without having to be told that he’s spilling privileged information about the packs—secrets nobody should know, but especially not the witches.
“Sable, come back to me,” Gwen whispers in my head.
The sound of her voice startles me, breaking the connection of the bond, and I’m suddenly yanked out of the other woman’s body and thrown back into the tunnel. I run fast and far from the horrifying scene I just witnessed, racing down the tunnel away from the psychopathic bitch and her lackeys torturing Lawson.
Then my eyes fly open, and I find myself back in Gwen’s cabin.
Now that I’m back in my body, nausea rises up hard and fast, and I clap a hand over my mouth, turning away from Gwen and doubling over as bile rises up my throat. My stomach heaves, trying to force everything out of my body, but I manage to swallow back the urge to vomit.
My eyes water as I suck in deep breaths through my nose, still bent nearly double in the chair. Cold noses press against my face and shoulder as my mates gather as close to me as they possibly can.
“What did you see?” Gwen asks sharply, worry in her voice. “Did you find her?”
“Yes.” I peel my hand away from my mouth to let the word out, still fighting to control my emotions. My voice is raspy as I say, “Give me… give me a moment.”
Absolute silence fills the cabin for several heartbeats as I slowly gather myself. I want to just curl up in the fetal position and block everything out, but my mates need me. The packs need me. Denying that the kind of evil I just saw exists in the world won’t make it go away.
We have to face it.
We have to fight it.
Straightening slowly, I tell Gwen and my mates what I just saw, repeating everything I heard word for word. My voice shakes as I speak, and I can barely meet Ridge’s gaze as I tell them about the shears. My stomach pitches again, and tears burn my eyes.
It’s obvious Lawson found some way to break out of his confinement cell in the North Pack village, and then instead of hiding within the perimeter of shifter protections, he left the territory entirely. And now, the packs are in danger.
“She knows too much now,” I say in a rush. “She knows how to break through the packs’ defenses. We have to go back before they’re attacked. We have to warn them and prepare them.”
Ridge nods his lupine head and turns toward the other men to confer with them, a low whine spilling from his throat.
“What about the person to whom you’re bonded?” Gwen asks me. “Did you find anything else out about her? Any clues to her identity?”
“I don’t know. But she’s definitely a witch.” I clench my jaw, grimacing. “And a complete fucking psycho. I couldn’t see her face because I was inside her body, and neither of the men called her by name. She called one of the guys Daniel, but—”
Gwen’s face turns thunderous, and my voice cuts off. From the sudden shift in her demeanor, it’s clear my words have sparked some recognition.
“I know that woman.” She bares her teeth in an almost wolfish snarl. “I should’ve guessed it was her the moment you told us what you witnessed through her eyes. Her name is Cleopatra, and she’s the leader of the Montana coven. Daniel is one of her hitmen—muscle she uses to intimidate and attack her enemies.”
“The leader of the coven,” I repeat, shivering. “That’s who I’m bound to?”
“It appears so.” Gwen’s jaw is tight, her face revealing more emotion than it has since we arrived here. “And if that’s the case, I’m truly sorry. There isn’t a more vicious person on earth than that bitch. Cleo is the reason I have no coven anymore.”
She stands, the movement so abrupt that her chair scrapes harshly against the floorboards. Without saying a word, she crosses the room to the storage chest by her bed and pulls open the lid, then rustles around inside for several seconds before she pulls out a book.
When she turns back to face me, anger and determination burn in her eyes. I have a feeling it would be a very bad idea to ask what her history with Cleo is, but it’s clearly nothing good. Whatever happened between them, it was bad. And it was personal.
“This will help you.” Striding back to the table, she holds the book out toward me. “If your magic is linked to Cleo through the bond, you may never gain full control over it. But this will at least give you a fighting chance. Study this. Learn it. Master it.”
I accept the gift and stare down at the book’s worn leather cover, a thrill of both fear and excitement racing through me. I open it and flip through it a little, my gaze raking over page after page of etched sigils and their meanings. “This is about witch magic?”
“It is.” She nods, her expression still tinged with bitter anger. “It’s yours now. Keep it.”
Trystan lets out a low howl, and when my gaze snaps toward him, he swings his head toward the door. Ridge is shifting his weight restlessly, clearly anxious to get going.
They’re right. We can’t afford to waste a second.