The forest’s silence was oppressive, broken only by the rustle of branches under Misery’s boots. Shadows slithered along the ground, cast by the faint, flickering light of the moon. She pressed on, her dark cloak brushing against thorn-laden vines that snagged at her sleeves.
Ahead, Eryon’s hulking wolf form moved with predatory ease. His fur gleamed faintly under the sparse light, but his amber eyes flicked back at her more often than not, wary and watchful. When she stepped too close, his lip curled in a silent snarl.
Misery held up her hands in mock surrender.
“Easy, big guy,” she said, her tone deliberately light. “You keep glaring at me like that, and I might start to think you don’t like me.”
Eryon stopped abruptly, the earth beneath his claws grinding as he turned to face her. His massive frame towered over her, his growl low and threatening.
“You’ve got no business here,” he said, his words edged with a rumble that made her hair stand on end. “Why are you following me?”
“Because someone has to make sure you don’t rip the world apart,” Misery said, crossing her arms. “You’re a loose cannon, Eryon, and you know it.”
Eryon’s growl deepened, his claws raking the ground. “If you think you’re the one who’s going to stop me, you’re dumber than you look.”
Misery rolled her eyes. “Relax, wolf-boy. I’m not here to fight you.” Her voice softened slightly, losing some of its usual sarcasm. “I came because I don’t think anyone else understands what you’re going through.”
His amber eyes narrowed, searching her face for deception. “And you do?”
“Better than most,” she said, her gaze unwavering. “I’ve been where you are. Angry. Lost. Ready to tear apart anyone who gets too close.”
Eryon stepped closer, his movements deliberate and heavy. “You’re walking a fine line, vampire,” he said, his voice low.
“And yet, here I am,” Misery countered, lifting her chin. “If you want me gone, just say the word. But deep down, you know you don’t want to do this alone.”
Eryon’s muscles tensed as he held her gaze. The silence stretched between them, thick and charged. Finally, he stepped back, his claws retracting slightly.
“You’ve got one chance,” he said, turning away. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Misery’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Deal,” she said, falling into step behind him.
***
Lyra jolted awake to the sound of shattering glass. The once-quiet stronghold was filled with screams and heavy footfalls echoing down the halls. Her heart raced as she scrambled to her feet, the Mating Mark on her chest flaring with a strange, pulsing heat.
“Lyra!” her mother’s voice, high-pitched and panicked, called from somewhere nearby. The desperation in Isla’s tone sent a shiver down her spine.
She bolted from her room, barefoot and still disoriented. The corridor outside was cloaked in unnatural darkness, the flickering torches along the walls struggling to stay alight. Shadows seemed to stretch and twist unnaturally, consuming the light and distorting the space. Lyra pressed forward, her every step feeling like she was moving against an invisible force.
“Mom?” she shouted, her voice trembling. She could hear the faint sound of chains rattling and someone struggling. “Where are you?”
As she turned a corner, she froze. Isla and Draven were bound and suspended in midair, their arms stretched above their heads by jagged, blackened chains that seemed to pulse with their own sinister life. Isla’s silver eyes were wide with terror, her voice cracked as she screamed, “Lyra, run! Don’t let them take you!”
Draven growled, his muscles straining against the unyielding chains, his face twisted in fury. “Get out of here! It’s a trap!”