Misty
I pace in front of a set of wooden double doors. They’re etched with sweeping designs that’re a near perfect match to the doors littered throughout the castle in Moonrise. This place–this apartment within the castle–it’s beautiful. At least, it was likely very beautiful once. Everything is covered in dust as it stands. The glass vases scattered across nearly every surface probably held bouquets of tropical flowers at one point. Books used to line every shelf. Silk and satin draped over the massive canopy of the four poster bed in the main bedroom, I’m sure, and the bed was covered by silk sheets that smelled like rose oil, freshly cleaned.
Now, this apartment is a shell with ancient furniture and cheap, slightly ratty linens covering the beds, chairs, and old couches.
But I haven’t really explored, not while my mind races. Where is Georgia? How do I get out and find her? I’ll escape this place. I’ll make it out. But I’m not leaving without her.
I bang my fists on the door, screaming at the top of my lungs like I’m a four year old girl again, and Dad just put me in time out for kicking Sydney in the nuts for… well, normally there wasn’t a reason to harass my brothers, I just enjoyed doing it.
The thought of Ryan and Sydney shatters my heart. I scream again and again, beating my fists until I feel bruises forming. My brothers will come for me. Their wives, too. My whole family will come, but I want a say in how we kill these motherfuckers. I want Cole’s still beating heart in my hand. I want to crush the Umbra Mortis’s face beneath my shoes–preferably my favorite heels. This castle will be painted red with blood when I leave.
Because I will make it out.
“GEORGIA!” I screech, yanking on the massive door knobs. “YOU BITCHES! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!”
I kick the door. Dust floats down from the rafters as the room trembles under my fury.
“LET ME OUT!!!”
‘Please, shut up.’
I freeze, slowly turning around like the voice came from behind me even though I know it’s in my head.
‘Who are you? Tell me now. This isn’t funny. This isn’t some joke, you bastard. I’ve been taken, and I’m going to be forced to have sex with Prince Cole–’
‘Alpha King Cole, actually.’
‘You fucker,’ I hiss down whatever line is open between us. ‘I need help. Whatever you are–whoever you are–you have to help me. You need to get in touch with my family somehow. You need to tell them where I am.’
‘Please, just stop talking. I’m trying to sleep, and your screaming is driving me insane.’
‘I’m driving YOU insane?!’
I might actually snap. I might slip into a full psychosis and burn the castle with me inside of it.
Rapid footsteps echo toward the door. I jump back just as it swings open, revealing three order members in their black cloaks, hoods drawn, but no masks.
I tackle Declan to the ground, wailing on him, my fists meeting his jaw over and over. “Ow! OW! Fuck, okay! Get her off of me!”
His companions try to pull me off, but I grip his cloak and bite down on the side of his jaw, drawing blood. He screams.
‘Did you just bite someone?’
I ignore the voice as the two other young men drag me off Declan, who scurries away with tears in his eyes as he clutches his face. I feel a sliver of regret when I notice the shock and pain twisting across his face. Tears actually drip down his cheeks, and his lower lip trembles. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” he says through tears.
I try to yank out of the grasp of his companions. I haven’t given them a good, hard look yet. But through my haze of fury, curly black hair comes into view. “Misty, that was mean. You didn’t have to bite him!”
“Oh, my Goddess–” I jerk out of the hold of the two men and launch myself at Georgia, who’s standing in the doorway covered in bandages but otherwise whole. I press her face into my shoulder as tears erupt, and I sob until I can’t breathe.
The men just watch us for a moment. Through my tears, I take in the faces of the two other men. More TU students. A grade below me, I believe. I can’t remember their names, but their eyes are… damp. Damp with the same kind of grief and disbelief I’ve been feeling since the library was attacked.
“What the fuck is happening?” I voice out loud, unable to stop myself.
Declan, his cheek puffy and dripping blood from my bite, gets to his feet and limps toward us, herding us back into the apartment. “You have to stay here, both of you. We’ll bring food up soon. Towels, clothes… whatever you need. There’s running water in the bathroom if you want to shower.”
Georgia and I just stare at the young man as he tries his best to explain the amenities, like we’re on a vacation in a crappy hotel.
“Rats are kind of a problem, but we’re taking care of it,” he concludes with a wince then turns on his heel, followed by his minions, and the door slams shut behind them with a crack that echoes through the apartment.
I let go of Georgia and race to the door. Locked. Of course. I whirl toward her, buzzing with nervous energy. “Try every door and window.”
She nods, bursting into action, and for the next ten minutes, we run from room to room, testing each door, finding nothing but closets and extra bedrooms. The windows are locked tight and made of thick, impenetrable glass. I go as far as picking up a chair and hurling it against one of the larger windows, but it bounces back into me, knocking me flat on my ass.
We’re covered in dust and new bruises when one of the men from earlier comes back. He’s a soft-voiced man of probably nineteen who blushes every time Georgia looks in his direction as he lays out a tray of bread, thin stew made of potatoes and… possibly chicken, and two jugs of water. He keeps his distance from me though–for good reason.
I’m too hungry to look past the food and think about taking him down, which would be easy with Georgia's help, stealing his keys and escaping this place.
He brought clothes for us. Nightgowns. They’re basic and styled like long T-shirts made of gray and blue cotton. He leaves towels and fresh linens and then hurries away, locking the door behind him.
We eat like we’re starving, which is probably true. Not a crumb is left when we’re done. We take turns showering. I get a good look at Georgia’s injuries and add my tears to her jug of water while she finishes her shower. I spend the next two hours watching her slowly, but surely, heal while we sit on the bed in the main bedroom, looking through the old books and treasures we found in the apartment.
Neither of us say much. I think she’s in shock, honestly. She’s flushed, and her eyes are wide and frazzled as she makes little jokes, acting like we’re not in the fight of our lives.
I stay awake even after she falls asleep. I tuck her into bed and curl my body around hers. Only then do I cry. Not the furious, angry sobs from earlier. Not in relief over seeing my friend alive and well. I cry because my heart is broken–and because I’m terrified.
I want my mom. I want to go home, to Crescent Falls, and hug my mom.
My tears slip into Georgia’s hair.
I close my eyes eventually, letting my body succumb to the darkness creeping in. Sleep… we’ll both feel so much better with a good night’s rest.
But instead, my dreams jolt me awake every ten minutes. In my dreams, I’m suddenly in Silverhide, watching Aviva walk toward Ryan, her gilded bow draped over her back as she grabs his hand, squeezing hard. He lowers his forehead to hers, murmuring something I can’t hear and… the village, which I spent a week in before going to campus, shortly after they got married, isn’t the sleepy, quaint space I remember. Now, it’s a city of tents. Warriors from different armies mill about, blocking my view of my brother and his mate. Snow falls in heavy, unending clumps.
I open my eyes to darkness as the dream fades. Grandma told me all about her visions when she was my age, how she could find people in her dreams, how she could see them, clear as day. Maybe that’s what I just saw–my family preparing for… war.
It makes sense. I know Ella wouldn’t let something like an attack on a university slip by unattended. But wasn’t she allied with Alpha King Jaxon of Tarsian?
Oh, right, he’s probably dead, which is why Cole is now ‘King Cole’ instead of prince.
I realize with a start that when we saw him, when we were shopping for the party, he’d probably been planning the attack that happened the next day.
My stomach curls, and I know I won’t be sleeping any more tonight.
A soft click echoes from the foyer to the bedroom we’re sharing, then the main door opens with a gentle squeak.
I freeze, listening as footsteps– steps someone’s obviously trying their best to hide–enter our apartment and stop, and the world goes silent again.
I fly out of bed, grabbing one of the old books off the chair by the door and rush through the darkness to the foyer, tossing the book as hard as I can at the tall, hooded figure standing near a dormant fireplace.
It bounces off the side of his face. He hisses, turning to me in the moonlight pouring through windows on the far wall.
Cole stares at me, looking me up and down, his gaze brushing over my bare legs and the thin nightgown before meeting my eyes again. “That was unnecessary.”
“What are you doing in here?” I rush out, keeping my distance. I stand in the archway leading to the hallway that houses the bedroom I’m sharing with Georgia, guarding it. I will not let him pass, and he knows it.
“Why are you still awake?” he asks in a calm, monotone voice that sounds vaguely familiar. I suppose I might have heard him speaking in those weird mirrors Ryatt has. I’ve never met him or his family, but Kenna knows Cole, and every time she talked about him, she sneered.
She had good reason not to like him, apparently.
“Why are you here?” I repeat, ignoring his question.
“I’m doing my rounds.”
“And that means barging into my room? Get out.”
He turns for the door. That’s when I notice his height. He’s tall. Incredibly so. I’ve only seen him a few times, most of which were while kneeling on the floor in pain. His face is… gorgeous. He’s a very handsome man, honestly. It’s a fucking shame he’s evil, and I have to kill him.
I pick up the book and throw it at him again. This time it hits him square in the back, and he chokes out a groan and doubles over.
Alarm bells ring in my head as he grips the doorframe, panting, damn near trembling in pain.
“I didn’t hit you that hard,” I rasp, swallowing against the lump in my throat. “Youfucking pussy.”
“Oh,” he chokes on a laugh. “Are you always like this?” He’s breathless as he turns his head to me, pale with pain, the ghost of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. Familiar. Too familiar.
“Always like what?”
“A ragingbitch.”
I scowl at him. “I’m going to kill you.”
“I believe you,” he breathes.
I take a few steps in his direction, furious, my hands balled into fists. “Did you come here to use me as your breeder, like planned?”
“No.”
“Good. Because I’m not letting you touch me, ever.”
“What makes you think I want to?”
Now, that confuses me. I narrow my eyes at him as he slowly straightens up. “But this is your decision, your plan. You attacked my school. You kidnapped me!”
“It’s not kidnapping, Mystica, you’re not a child. I abducted you.”
“Are you trying to be funny?” I snap, and he smirks again, but that smile is gone in a flash. “You asshole! Get out!”
He rushes out a breath, turning his face to the door as he shuffles a single step, then has to brace himself on the wall again. “I will, just give me a moment.”
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, not kindly, but I am curious.
He chuckles darkly. “If you’re going to kill me, now would be a good time. It would be merciful, honestly. Just–Just grab that vase.” He points to one of the tables along the wall. “Hit me over the head with it, please.”
“You’re joking.”
He turns to me again. “I’m not.”
“I didn’t hurt you that bad.”
“Are you in the habit of throwing books at people so often you can recognize the level of damage you’re inflicting?”
“I have two older brothers.” I tilt my chin upward. “But you know that.”
“Are you saying you’ve thrown things at them?”
“Of course, I have, but you look like you’re dying. The book barely touched you.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me you only nibbled on Declan’s face, too?”
I clench my jaw. I do feel bad about that, but he doesn’t need to know it. “What’s wrong with your back?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”
“It’s nothing that concerns you. Goodnight, Mystica.” He pulls the door open and slips out. I hear him grunt with the effort of closing it again. Through the wood, I hear him curse under his breath, then walk steadily away.
I cross my arms beneath my chest, confused about that interaction and his familiarity. His voice especially. I huff a breath and sigh, tucking my hair behind my ears as I turn for the hallway, thinking maybe I could try to squeeze in a few extra minutes of sleep, but then a stack of… stuff… catches my attention.
My school books are on the coffee table between the two old couches. My backpack. My makeup bag. My shower stuff. Several changes of clothes–both my clothes and Georgia’s. Her things. The blanket she slept with every night that I always gave her shit for because it has huge holes in it. It was hers as a baby.
Tears sting my eyes as I look back at the door. Did he bring this stuff here? Why would he do that? Why bother when we’re his prisoners?