Chapter 45

MISTY

I carefully put the hoodie on, but even so, it scraped against the collar, and I wanted to scream in pain. It felt like I had no skin left, and no matter how much I tried, even when I kept still, it rested on my collarbones and burned like fire.

Pulling my sleeves over my hands, I carefully tucked the hoodie under the collar, providing some relief, and then moved the leash to the side.

I chose a spot in the corner where I could see the entire basement and blinked tears away.

~“Cammy?”~

~“I’m here.”~

~“Can you feel a spark?”~

~“No. I’m sorry, but now that the silver isn’t touching you directly, I should be able to heal you.”~

~“Let’s hope he doesn’t make me take it off.”~

My lack of powers must be tied to breaking the curse, and the only explanation that made sense was that whatever magic had been in me transferred to Lloyd when I marked him. Did he have witch powers now?

Axel hadn’t even bothered to check my pockets. The flashlight was useless for the moment, however, as he hadn’t switched off the light—probably an oversight—and the pocketknife was too small to do any actual harm.

If I could get rid of this collar, I’d be able to shift. My claws would be far more effective…

When I first put it on, the collar clipped into place. Maybe I could force it apart. I wrapped my hands carefully, slipped them under the collar, and pulled with all my strength. The only thing I achieved was burning my jawline.

The problem was I couldn’t see the clasp. I had a rough idea of where it was, though, and if I could wedge the pocketknife into the right spot, I might be able to release the catch.

I froze when the door opened and then hurriedly got to my feet.

“Come to the bottom of the stairs,” Egon instructed.

I hastily removed the hoodie so they wouldn’t take it away, hissing when the silver hit my skin. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I walked to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Egon.

He didn’t cut an inspiring figure and had a slight paunch, indicating he liked food more than exercise. He had the same nose as Axel and was probably related.

He put two glass bowls on the step and grinned at me. “Misty is such a good name for a pet, don’t you think?”

He closed the door and switched off the light before I could think of a response.

Bastard!

Switching on the flashlight, I retrieved my hoodie and made sure the collar rested on the fabric before walking up the stairs.

One bowl was filled with water, and the other had corned beef.

~“Don’t drink that,”~ Cammy said. ~“It smells off.”~

~“I won’t. They might have poisoned it.”~

~“I don’t think it’s poison, but what’s that stuff they put in drinks?”~

~“Roofies?”~

~“That’s it…”~

I shuddered. This was precisely the kind of thing Axel would pull. I sniffed the meat but couldn’t detect anything unusual. Lifting the bowls, the water sloshing over the rim, I took them downstairs. Let them think I drank and ate…

I couldn’t rely on Lloyd to rescue me, not when we flew Goddess knows how many miles—I had to find a way to protect myself.

Finding the clasp was a top priority. Sitting cross-legged, I steadied myself. The memory of burning my fingers when I first put it on was still fresh; they were sore and tender to the touch.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the inevitable pain, and reached out to feel for the clasp.

As soon as my fingertips brushed against the silver, a searing heat surged through my hand. The pad of my index finger sizzled, the pain sharp and immediate.

I nearly jerked my hand back, instinct screaming at me to stop, but I forced myself to keep going. I knew the clasp had clicked into place when it was secured, so there had to be a mechanism, a button or depression, that would release it.

Ignoring the intense burning sensation, I painstakingly traced the edges until my fingers found a small protrusion. I moved it to the front and exhaled in relief.

I’d be in a pickle if the pocketknife failed to do the job. Silver burns took inordinately long to heal, even when I was no longer touching that cursed metal.

Unfolding the pocketknife, I knew I needed to guide it with my finger, but I could use an alternate one to limit the damage.

Steeling myself against the pain, my hand trembling slightly, my finger brushed against the small bump, and I let out a shaky breath. With painstaking care, I guided the pocketknife’s blade toward it, positioning it just right.

Then, with a deep breath, I pushed the knife in, feeling the metal press against the protrusion as I fought the urge to recoil from the searing pain.

Clenching my jaw, I heard a faint ~snick~. The collar didn’t fall away, but I sensed it was loose now—it just needed to be pulled apart. Quickly wrapping my hands again, I slid them under the collar and tugged with all my strength.

There was a sharp ~click~, and the collar finally parted. I wasted no time, yanking it off and flinging it across the basement floor.

~“You did it,”~ Cammy praised. ~“It will take me a while to heal you, but at least we can shift. Sleeping in wolf form might be a good idea.”~

~“Yes.”~

I sat unmoving—catching my breath—preoccupied—

Maybe I could use the collar to my advantage. It would make a good weapon, and as long as my hands were covered, it wouldn’t burn me.

~“What are you thinking?”~ Cammy asked, taken aback at my plan.

~“I’m going to sit on the landing and wait for either Axel or Egon to open the door…”~

Dashing up the stairs, I pressed my ear against the door, straining to catch any sounds from the other side. Laughter echoed, mingled with the clinking of glasses—it sounded like a celebration. What the hell was Axel up to?

“He’s vulnerable now, and these mercenaries are top-notch,” Axel’s voice came through, dripping with smugness. “Cost a pretty penny, but once Lloyd is dead, the palace is mine…and his little witch. I’ll lose my protector, but it’s better that than losing my title. The Sayelle-Moreau bloodline has always ruled, and I’m not about to yield to some upstart.”

My heart skipped a beat—mercenaries?

“What about the rest of the packs?” Egon’s voice chimed in, curious but cautious.

“Eliminate the head, and the rest will fall in line,” Axel chuckled darkly.

Egon laughed, a hint of admiration in his tone. “But what if Lloyd finds us?” he asked.

Axel’s laugh was confident, almost dismissive. “That won’t be easy, but if he’s started his search, the mercenaries will be on his trail.”

“Aren’t they human?” Egon pressed.

“Yes, but never underestimate them,” Axel replied, his voice taking on a serious edge. “Humans have access to all sorts of tracking devices. They don’t need a good nose—they’ll be armed to the teeth. Shoot a wolf in the head, and he won’t recover.”

Silence followed, broken only by the faint clatter of knives scraping across crockery as they resumed their meal. I swallowed.

Mercenaries armed to the teeth? I had to warn Lloyd, but how? What if he was still at the palace, and they just mowed him down? My heart sped up. If I wanted to save Lloyd, I had to get out of here.

“More scotch,” Axel demanded, and I heard a chair scrape across the wooden floor and footsteps.

~“Get the collar,”~ Cammy said.

~“Good idea.”~

I moved down the stairs and located the collar as quietly as possible. Pulling my sleeve down to cover my hand, I picked it up and retraced my steps. I had to be ready if either of them checked on me. Maybe they wouldn’t? What then?

After what seemed like an eternity, Axel spoke again. “Clean this up while I visit my little witch,” he said.

Oh fuck. My heartbeat accelerated in fear. Axel wasn’t nearly as big as Lloyd, but he was still bigger and stronger than me. I grew my claws and got on my knees. The door opened outward, and if I could claw his privates and maybe fit the collar…

The problem was Egon—how much time did I have before he attacked?

~“Push him down the stairs,”~ Cammy suggested. ~“Just lock him in and run. Forget about the collar.”~

~“Okay, like Lloyd did in the chamber.”~

Footsteps echoed closer, their steady rhythm sending a surge of panic through me. I covered my mouth, desperately trying to steady my breathing, but my heart pounded like a drum.

The light flickered on, casting long shadows across the stairs. The lock clicked, the sound echoing ominously in the silence. The door began to creak open, every inch making my pulse race faster.

I tensed as the door swung wider, and everything happened in slow motion. I lunged forward and buried my claws in his pelvis, barely registering the high-pitched scream that left his throat.

He stumbled backward, and I pulled my claws upward, getting to my feet. In one fluid motion, I forcibly turned us and pushed him down the stairs, blood dripping off my claws.

“Not so clever after all if you fell for the same trick twice,” I hissed.

His eyes locked onto mine, intense and burning, as he teetered on the step before tumbling down the stairs. I slammed the door shut, twisted the lock, and bolted.

Egon’s whereabouts were the last thing on my mind—I wasn’t about to waste time searching for him. Instead, I sprinted up the stairs, heading straight for the roof entrance.

The steel door had several deadbolts, and I quickly disengaged them, looking over my shoulder to make sure Egon wasn’t sneaking up. There was no sign of him as I raced out the door and stopped.

The place was tucked against the mountainside, blending into the rugged landscape.

I darted to the edge and scanned the rocky terrain below. How the hell was I going to get off the roof? Should I jump? It wasn’t that far down, but the jagged rocks jutting from the ground looked treacherous and uneven.

~“Shift,”~ Cammy urged.

Tearing through my clothes, Cammy took control and leapt, landing on a boulder with claws skidding against the stone to steady us, wincing in pain, the pads on her paws as burned as my fingertips.

Before she could overbalance, she leapt again. As agile as a cat, she bounded from one boulder to the next until the terrain became less rock-strewn.

~“Wow, Cammy, I was expecting you to lose your balance…”~

~“Maybe your witch powers made me clumsy,”~ she said snarkily.

Turning back, we looked up at the roof. The helicopter’s white color stood out in the dark like a sentinel, but there was no movement.

~“We need to find a path,”~ I said urgently.

Cammy headed toward the trees, but they seemed far away. There must be a path or road somewhere. The area was difficult to navigate, and we retraced our steps several times.

Traversing the rocky ground in the inky darkness was difficult, and there was no moon to help guide us.

And then I saw flickering lights in the distance and stopped. Were those headlights?

~“Move toward the lights,”~ I instructed.

~“What if it’s those mercenaries?”~

~“It will be easy to hide here.”~

~“Okay.”~

Picking her way through the uneven ground, Cammy headed toward the headlights. If that was a road, it must have been very windy, slithering up the mountainside like a snake. The headlights disappeared, only to reappear closer.

Cammy skidded to a halt at the edge of a steep embankment, a narrow road below us, and I hesitated. Better to wait for those lights to come closer.

The trees on this side were sparse, their trunks too thin, and there was no undergrowth to hide in but plenty of rocks. She leapt between two boulders, settling on her stomach and facing the road.

Peering into the darkness, we watched as the lights trundled closer. It was a vehicle—a minivan. I strained to make out the occupants, fearing it might be the mercenaries, when suddenly, the headlights flicked off, and chaos erupted.

Bullets tore through the night, forcing us to duck as low as possible. One whizzed past, slamming into the boulder behind us, and then a sharp, searing pain shot through my hindquarters.

~“Wolfsbane!”~ Cammy shouted in agony, her voice fading.

The shift was immediate, and I huddled on the ground, gritting my teeth in pain as I carefully reached back to feel the wound, my hand coming away wet and sticky.