Chapter 42: A Storm on the Horizon

Pain was a steady pulse in my wrists, the burn of silver eating away at my strength. My breathing was measured, controlled, but inside, my mind was spinning.

Kael thought he had the upper hand. He thought he had already won.

Fool.

Darkness pressed in from all sides, the flickering torch the only thing keeping it at bay. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional drip of water somewhere in the chamber. I flexed my fingers against the cuffs, testing their hold, wincing as the metal bit into my raw skin.

Time stretched, the minutes blending together.

But sitting here, helpless, wasn’t an option. I needed to think, to plan, to find something that could give me even the smallest advantage.

I tilted my head back against the cold stone wall, closing my eyes, forcing myself to remember everything about my capture.

The fight. The moment I hit the ground. Kael’s hands locking around my arms. The scent of damp earth and blood as I was dragged away.

There had been voices. Shouting.

Not all of them had been Gideon’s warriors.

Which meant—

A loud clang echoed through the chamber as the door swung open, jerking me back to the present.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

Not Kael.

This was someone else.

I lifted my head as the figure stepped into the light.

A woman.

Tall, draped in dark leathers, her golden hair pulled back in a sharp braid. Her face was striking, sharp features framed by a cruel smile.

Not a rogue. Not one of Kael’s warriors either.

I knew the sigil branded into the leather over her chest.

A crescent moon, split down the center.

Gideon’s personal guard.

Shit.

She stopped just outside my reach, arms crossed, looking down at me like I was something amusing. "You’re smaller than I expected," she said, voice smooth, almost lazy. "Hard to believe you’re the one everyone’s been talking about."

I lifted my chin, forcing the exhaustion from my expression. "You must be Gideon’s attack dog."

She smirked. "Call me Astrid."

I didn’t.

She didn’t seem surprised.

"I’ve been given the honor of keeping an eye on you until Kael decides what to do with you," she continued, crouching slightly so we were eye level. "Not that it will take much effort. You don’t look like you’ll last long in those chains."

She wasn’t wrong. The silver was already draining me. Every breath felt heavier, every muscle weaker. But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing it.

I smiled instead. "You think you’re the first person to try and break me?"

Astrid hummed, tilting her head slightly. "No. But I might be the last."

I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t.

She watched me for a long moment, searching, and then sighed. "Kael told me you were stubborn. He didn’t mention you were reckless." I stayed silent.

She leaned in just a fraction, her voice dropping. "Do you even realize why you’re here?"

To bait Dax. To weaken him. To destroy everything we’ve built. But something in her tone made me hesitate. There was something else. Astrid’s smile faded slightly, but before I could press for answers, the sound of approaching footsteps cut through the chamber.

Kael.

Astrid exhaled sharply, straightening. Then she was gone, slipping back into the shadows as Kael stepped through the doorway. His presence filled the space.

He moved with that same slow, lazy confidence, like this was all just a game he was playing.

But his eyes—There was something colder there. Calculating. He stopped a few feet away, his gaze dragging over me, taking in every detail.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

I refused to let him see the exhaustion in my body, the raw skin around my wrists, the way my limbs ached from being in the same position for hours.

He wanted to see me weak. I wouldn’t give him that.

His smirk deepened. "Still so defiant."

I held his stare. "Still so pathetic."

He laughed. "Oh, Alina. You never disappoint."

Neither will Dax. I kept the thought to myself, biting back my exhaustion, my pain, my frustration. Because Kael was right about one thing. This wasn’t just a fight. It was war. And war didn’t end until someone was dead.

The door slammed shut behind Kael, sealing me in the suffocating dark once more. The flickering torch was the only source of light, casting jagged shadows along the damp stone walls.

My wrists burned from the silver cuffs, every small movement sending fresh waves of agony up my arms. But I forced myself to breathe through it, to push the pain to the back of my mind.

He thought this cell would break me. He was wrong. I wasn’t some helpless prisoner waiting to be rescued. If Dax was coming, I wouldn’t sit here like some fragile thing and let Kael use me as bait.

I needed to move. I needed to act.

I closed my eyes, trying to sharpen my senses beyond the walls of my prison. The scent of damp earth and blood was thick in the air, but beneath it, I could pick up something else.

Voices.

Muffled, distant—but there.

I turned my head slightly, focusing.

“—Gideon wants her alive.” A male voice, deep and clipped.

“She won’t last long in those cuffs.” A second voice, female. Astrid.

A pause. Then, “That’s not our problem.”

Their footsteps retreated, and the voices faded.

I exhaled slowly.

So Gideon wanted me alive. Why?

Kael had made it clear this was about drawing Dax in, but I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that was the whole plan. Gideon didn’t take prisoners unless they were useful.

Which meant I was more than bait.

I was leverage.

I tilted my head back against the stone wall, frustration curling in my chest. I couldn’t afford to wait for whatever Gideon had planned.

I needed to get out of here.

Think, Alina.

The silver was a problem. It was draining me too fast, sapping my strength before I could even begin to consider escape. I flexed my fingers, testing the restraints again, wincing as the metal bit into my raw skin.

I wouldn’t be able to break them. Not like this.

But maybe I didn’t need to.

I let my gaze sweep the chamber, searching for anything—anything—I could use.

The torch on the wall flickered slightly as a breeze stirred the air.

I stilled.

A breeze.

There was a way out.

I moved, gritting my teeth as I adjusted my position. The walls were solid stone, damp with condensation, but the air movement meant there had to be a crack, a vent, something leading outside.

I just needed to find it.

A deep breath. Then I shifted forward, dragging my arms as much as the cuffs would allow. The movement sent a fresh spike of pain through me, but I ignored it.

I had to.

My fingers brushed against the floor, cool stone rough against my skin. I focused, feeling for any change in the texture, any shift in temperature—

There.

Near the far wall, the air was colder.

A vent.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. I exhaled sharply, my pulse quickening. I had a way out. Now I just had to use it. The problem was the cuffs.

I glanced down at my wrists, at the raw, blistered skin beneath the silver. I could already feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at me, my limbs sluggish. I wouldn’t last much longer. I needed to get these chains off. And I needed to do it now.

My heart pounded as I scanned the room again. The torch. The chains. The stone walls. My mind raced through possibilities, discarding each one almost as quickly as it came.

I needed fire. My gaze snapped back to the torch. The cuffs were metal. If I could heat them—if I could weaken the links, even just a little—

It was a gamble. A painful one. But pain was temporary. Escape was worth it. I moved again, forcing my body to move despite the ache. One chance. That’s all I had.

I gritted my teeth and reached for the fire. 

And prayed it would be enough.