Chapter 35: The Shadow War Begins

Cool walls of ice stone surrounded Ben, his trembling body immobile. Winced with burned agony at wrists from raw straps which were unnecessary—neither was attempting to move. Not yet. Sedative, heavy quiet hung in the air, occasionally broken by splattering drops falling from above through the saw-toothed-in ceiling hole and muffled, rhythm pattern breathing from Max. Cold constricting permeated the marrow inside Ben's bones, reminder of their upright orientation that permeated everywhere all about them where they stood.

Across from him, before him, was Max against the wall, resting back against it, his green fury-filled eyes blazing at the bars that imprisoned him from the world. Fisted in the hands of his fists were his fisted fists, as hard as a coil as his rock-hard repetition of his wrathful bottled fury. Real was the tension brought about by his fury, a crouching near-stuff tension vibrating throughout the cell.

Ben's head spun with conflicting emotions. Anger and fear and that sickening feeling of desperation warred in his mind. He lived it all over again in his mind what they'd done to them when they'd taken them in, every detail burning itself into his mind. Silas's empty calculating stare, his unyielding hardness as a guard, frogmarching him and Max away like common thieves.

He looked over at Max, his friend, his brother to the world. Max had ridden with him, lingered with him when life had not been so sweet as it might have been. And now the two of them were today, both captives, both hostages to a destination they hadn't meant to visit.

"They're not going to release us," Max finally said, his own harsh, brutal-sounding voice unlike another's. "Silas has a plan."

"He's going to kill something that doesn't exist," Ben sneered. "A rogue alpha, one who's feral. We're liabilities."

"But we didn't hurt anyone," Max protested, his face burning with indignation.

"Alphas don't kill other alphas," Ben said coldly.

"That doesn't matter," Ben said, gazing out at the oily stone ground that now looked less firm as it was covered in water. "Silas perceives us as a threat and he's not going to take the risk."

He saw Silas's fear as one of the older codes. A raw power, an alpha, unbound and perhaps disastrous. An alpha's power would be lost without a pack to contain him, and anarchy and brutality would reign.

"We have to get out of here," Max said to him, his voice authoritative. "We can't remain here and let others decide our destiny.".

“I know,” Ben said, his mind racing, searching for a solution. “But we’re trapped. These walls are enchanted, and those guards… they’re not ordinary wolves.”

He had felt the power coming from them, a deep, primal strength that was far more formidable than anything he had ever experienced before. They were not guards; they were guardians, sentinels for Silas's territory, and they were not to be trifled with.

"There's gotta be a way," Max went on, combing through the cell for a crack, a crevice. "There's always a way."

Ben looked up at Max, his hope swelling in his chest, and amazement. Max's limitless energy was always the best inspiration, but even Max couldn't argue that they weren't doing all right. They were sitting in a castle, surrounded by all their most hated foes, and no knight riding over the horizon to save them and no door to crash through.

He shut his eyes, breathed deeply, attempted to dispel cobwebs from his brain, think about what they needed to do. They needed to plan, some kind of strategy, something that would provide them with some kind of hope at least as a consolation. But the longer the seconds, the more it was against them, the more weight the darkness would carry. They needed to move quickly.

"They're afraid of you," Max at last snapped out of it, shattering the silence.

Ben breathed. "I see."

It'd taken hours since Silas had let them in, and through all the griping, they'd had no word. The wolves at the sanctuary weren't scheming against Jack, or against him.

You are not my enemy.

It was something he'd said a thousand times before and no one had ever heard.

He began to rise to speak, when the floor beneath their feet trembled at a deafening crash.

Max sprang off his feet. "What the devil's—"

Another blast shook the iron bars of their cell. Shrieks echoed down the corridor.

Ben's war-reflexes were primed. He caught its smell now—fire and blood, and something more primal.

War.

A guard ran past their cell, gasping. "We're under attack!"

Max pounded on the bars. "Let us out!"

The guard's knuckles whitened on his spear. He staggered.

Ben's entire body was electric with tension. "You can't do it," he snarled. "If they want me, they'll blow this place to kingdom come. We can hold them off."

A blast shook the sanctuary.

The guard grunted and wrestled with the keys. No sooner had the cell door creaked open than Ben and Max burst out.

Deeper in the courtyard was the sanctuary scattered in ruin.

Shadows capered in the quivering of the firelight, snarling savage. Night wolves devoured Silas's men, their metal glinting silver.

And in the middle of it all stood one man, surrounded by the destruction.

Tall. Shoulder-width. Black robe billowing behind him, he walked up, leaving naked power in the form of incense on the air. Ice mask of a face, chiselled eyes, and temple-to-jaw scar.

He smiled.

I believe you have something that belongs to me," he said, knife-smooth.

The level of his gaze flattened him, hunter and quarry.

Max was at his shoulder. "Viktor."

Ben's gut burned. He had no idea what the name was, but the brief and fatal flash of it by Max was brutal in its own way.

Viktor smiled. "Walk softly with me, and I won't have to crush this building on top of us."

Ben's fists curled up, the smoldering spark within him burning anew. His real power was restored. His real mark was gone now. His real power was stirring.

Viktor growled. "Good. I wanted you to strain."

He lifted his hand—and the shadows themselves attacked him.