Chapter 184: Empty Cages

Seraphine's POV

The courtyard was hell.

Damien dragged me through the chaos by the chain attached to my silver collar, each yank sending white-hot pain through my neck. My feet stumbled over rubble and bodies, the heat from the fires scorching my skin. Everywhere I looked, wolves were dying—Ravencrest guards torn apart by Shadowmere warriors, blood pooling in the snow-turned-mud beneath their corpses. The screams were deafening, mixing with the roar of flames and the clash of steel.

A woman—one of Damien's own—lay sprawled nearby, her chest caved in, eyes staring at nothing. A Shadowmere soldier stumbled past us, clutching a gaping wound in his side before collapsing in a heap. The acrid stench of burning flesh filled my lungs, making me gag.

Damien yanked me sideways, narrowly avoiding a group locked in brutal hand-to-hand combat. "Move!" he snarled.

Then I saw them.

Through the smoke and fire, figures emerged from the eastern tree line—wolves moving with military precision, their mismatched armor gleaming in the firelight. But it wasn't their gear that made my breath catch. It was the crude silver stripe painted across their shoulders and backs, the mark of Silverwood. My father's wolves.

They weren't scavenging. They were executing.

I watched as one of them drove a blade through a Ravencrest officer's throat, another seized a cache of weapons with practiced efficiency. They moved like soldiers who'd been waiting for this moment, who'd survived in the ruins and shadows just to see this day. Father's old guard, refusing to die, refusing to forget.

My chest tightened. They came for this. For revenge. For him.

"Goddamn Silverwood!" Damien spat, his grip on the chain tightening until I choked. "They're in bed with that fucking monster!"

He wrenched me forward again, nearly pulling me off my feet. I gasped, lungs burning as I struggled to keep up. We pushed deeper into the camp, away from the worst of the fighting, until finally Damien stopped. He spun around, eyes blazing with madness, and grabbed my chin with bloodstained fingers, forcing me to look at him.

"Look at this!" he roared, gesturing wildly at the destruction around us. "All of it—because of YOU!"

I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron.

"If you'd not escaped and just surrendered, none of this would've happened!" His voice cracked, raw with fury. "No war, no bloodshed, no fucking chaos! This is ALL YOUR FAULT!"

His fingers dug into my jaw hard enough to bruise. I whimpered despite myself.

"Now YOU—the one who started all this—you're going to answer for this war!" He laughed, wild and unhinged, his breath hot against my face. "Every drop of blood spilled here is on YOUR hands! And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it!"

"Silverwood's wolves will bow when they see their princess has returned! And your precious Alpha?" He leaned in close, breath reeking of smoke and blood. "He'll watch you kneel at my feet before I let him anywhere near you."

I stared up at him, green eyes wide with fear and something darker—understanding. I wasn't just a prisoner anymore. I was a tool. A pawn in a game I never asked to play. And no matter what happened next, I was going to be used until there was nothing left of me.

The bond pulsed weakly in my chest, a fragile reminder that somewhere out there, Kaelen was still fighting.

Please, I thought desperately. Please don't let him find me like this.

Kaelen's POV

The drainage tunnel reeked of rot and stagnant water.

I led the way through the narrow passage, crouched low, the bond pulsing faintly in my chest. Behind me, Jason, Derek, Marcus, and Nina moved in silence, weapons drawn. Seraphine was close—somewhere above us in this godforsaken hellhole.

The tunnel opened into a cistern beneath the prison. Moonlight filtered through a rusted grate overhead. I shoved it aside with a metallic screech and climbed out into a narrow storage room. Through the walls, the sounds of battle were unmistakable: shouts, clashing steel, flames roaring. Lucian's assault on the main gate had begun.

We slipped into the hallway, moving fast. Two guards stood watch ahead, attention fixed on the courtyard noise. I lunged forward, claws extended, and tore out the first one's throat. Derek snapped the second's neck. We dragged the bodies into shadows and kept moving.

"Upstairs," I growled. "We need eyes on the courtyard."

We burst through a side passage into chaos. The courtyard was a battlefield—Shadowmere wolves tearing through Ravencrest's defenses, smoke billowing from collapsing buildings, the stench of blood and burning wood choking the air. I scanned the scene with cold calculation, assessing enemy positions, weak points in their formation, the flow of combat.

Then I saw them.

Through the haze, unfamiliar figures moved with lethal efficiency. They wore mismatched armor, but all bore the same marking across their shoulders and backs: a crude silver stripe, like a slash of moonlight.

What the fuck?

"Alpha!" Lucian's voice crackled through the chaos. I turned to see him sprinting toward me from the main gate, blood-streaked and breathing hard, having smashed through the outer defenses faster than expected. "Strange wolves flooding in from the east perimeter—I thought they were Ravencrest reinforcements at first, but they're only targeting Damien's men. Not engaging us at all."

I scanned the battlefield more carefully. The wolves with the silver stripe weren't looting or scavenging—they were executing. Taking down officers, seizing weapon caches, systematically dismantling Ravencrest's command structure.

"Grab one," I ordered sharply.

Lucian didn't hesitate. He intercepted a wolf dragging a dead lieutenant and slammed him to the ground. I crouched beside them, grabbing the man by his collar and yanking him close. Young, scarred, with rage burning in his eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?"

He spat blood at my feet, then met my gaze with grim satisfaction. "Silverwood," he rasped. "We've been watching Ravencrest for months, waiting. When your forces hit the gate tonight, we struck from the east." His lips curled into a bitter smile. "For Alpha Matthias. For everyone Damien destroyed."

Silverwood.

Seraphine's father's pack. The scattered remnants, come to finish what Damien started. A cold, savage smile spread across my face as I released him.

"Let them fight," I told Lucian. "Damien's surrounded now—outnumbered on all sides." The pressure on my chest eased slightly. "Today, that bastard dies."

Lucian nodded and moved off to coordinate. I turned, the bond pulling me with renewed urgency toward the prison complex at the far end of the camp. With Silverwood tearing through Ravencrest's ranks, we had the advantage. Now I just had to find her.

I broke into a run, weaving through the carnage. My claws were slick with blood as I cut down anyone who got in my way. A Ravencrest soldier lunged at me—I caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted until bone snapped, and drove my claws through his throat. He dropped, gurgling, and I kept moving.

The prison doors loomed ahead, reinforced iron hanging half-open from our earlier breach. I plunged inside, following the bond down a narrow corridor lined with empty cells. The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay, but beneath it all—

Jasmine and wildflowers.

Seraphine.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I followed her scent deeper into the prison. It grew stronger with each step, leading me to a reinforced door at the end of the block. I didn't hesitate—I slammed into it with my full weight, and the door crashed inward.

The cell beyond was small and dark, reeking of despair. Shackles hung from the wall, still stained with blood. A torn piece of green fabric—her dress—lay crumpled in the corner. Deep scratches marred the stone walls, as if she'd clawed at them in desperation.

But the cell was empty.

I stood frozen, staring at the space where she should have been. Her scent clung to everything—the walls, the floor, the shackles—but she wasn't here.

"Fuck!" I roared, slamming my fist into the stone wall hard enough to crack it. "Where the hell is she?!"