Chapter 186

Chapter 186
Citlali's POV

We backtracked to the last fork we'd passed and took a different route. The new passage led us through a series of twisting turns, and I was grateful for the marks Rowan had left on the walls—without them, we would have been hopelessly lost.

After several minutes of careful navigation, we emerged into a slightly wider tunnel. And there, just ahead, we found something we hadn't noticed before—another fork, this one forming a Y-shape.

The left passage was wider and showed signs of more recent use. I could see faint light flickering somewhere in the distance—torchlight, probably, which meant it might lead to inhabited areas of the palace.

The right passage was narrower and darker, but I could make out the edge of stone steps leading upward. It might be another exit, or it might lead to a dead end.

"We should stay together and take the left passage," Rowan said, his voice firm. "The light means we're getting close to something."

But I shook my head, my mind racing through the possibilities. "We don't have time to explore every tunnel together. If we split up, we can cover more ground."

"Splitting up is too dangerous," Rowan protested, his expression darkening.

"We'll stay in mindlink contact," I argued. "If either of us finds something or runs into trouble, we call for the other immediately. We meet back here in ten minutes, no matter what. It's more efficient this way."

Rowan's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "No. If you run into danger—"

"Then I'll call for help through mindlink," I interrupted. "And you'll come running. Just like I'll come running if you need me."

We stood there in the darkness, facing each other, neither willing to back down. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the distant drip of water and the sound of our breathing.

Finally, I spoke again, my voice softer but no less determined. I met his eyes, willing him to understand.

"Rowan, I know you're worried about me. But Layla is in danger right now. Every minute we waste is another minute she's suffering."

I held his gaze, letting him see the desperation and determination in my eyes. "If we waste time searching the same tunnel together, and she's at the end of the other one..."

My voice cracked slightly. "I'll never forgive myself."

His shoulders sagged slightly in defeat, but his expression remained serious, almost stern.

"Ten minutes," he said, his voice hard. "Ten minutes, and then we meet back here no matter what. If you find anything dangerous, you call me immediately."

He stepped closer, his eyes boring into mine. "Promise me."

"I promise," I said, and I meant it.

He stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to memorize my face. Then he nodded slowly, reluctantly. "Be careful."

"You too."

I turned toward the left passage—the one with the distant light. Rowan headed for the right passage, toward the stone steps.

For a moment, we both hesitated, looking back at each other. In the dim light of the sewers, his face was shadowed, but I could see the worry in his eyes.

Ten minutes, I sent through mindlink, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Ten minutes, he confirmed.

Then we separated, each disappearing into our respective tunnels. The darkness swallowed us both, and suddenly I was alone in the sewers beneath the enemy's palace.

I forced myself to keep moving, one hand trailing along the slimy wall for balance, my feet splashing through the foul water. The smell was overwhelming, the cold was brutal, and fear gnawed at my insides.

But somewhere ahead, there was light. And where there was light, there might be answers.

I pressed forward into the darkness, toward whatever awaited me at the end of this tunnel.

---

I moved forward through the left passage, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and dread. With each step, the tunnel gradually widened, and I noticed the walls changing—the rough stone giving way to smooth, carefully laid bricks.

This was definitely part of the palace infrastructure. The craftsmanship was too refined, too deliberate to be anything else.

The light ahead grew stronger, resolving into the warm, flickering glow of torches. I slowed my pace, moving as quietly as possible through the ankle-deep water, trying not to splash.

My wolf senses were on high alert, straining to detect any sound, any movement that might indicate danger. But there was nothing—only the distant crackle of flames and the steady drip of water.

The passage ended at an iron grate door. Beyond it, I could see a wide corridor with polished marble floors and rich tapestries hanging on the walls.

My heart leaped with excitement. We'd found it. We'd actually found a way inside.

I immediately reached out through mindlink, my thoughts tumbling over each other in my eagerness. Rowan! I found an exit! It's the palace interior! Come quickly!

At the Y-fork, take the left passage and go straight ahead!

I waited for his response, my body thrumming with anticipation. We were so close now. So close to finding Layla and the others.

I crept closer to the iron grate, trying to get a better view of what lay beyond. The corridor stretched in both directions, empty and silent.

Too silent, perhaps. The thought flickered through my mind, but I pushed it aside. We were deep beneath the palace—it made sense that these lower passages would be deserted.

I reached out and tested the grate door, expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, it swung open easily with barely a whisper of sound.

Why would such an important access point be left unlocked?

I told myself that perhaps the guards simply didn't expect anyone to make it this far through the sewers.

I stood at the threshold, one hand on the grate, peering into the corridor beyond.

Just as I was about to step through the opening, I heard it—the sound of footsteps. Not the random shuffle of a single guard, but the synchronized march of multiple people moving in formation.

Coming from behind me. From the tunnel I'd just walked through.

I spun around, my heart lurching into my throat. The darkness of the sewer passage seemed to writhe and shift, and then figures emerged from the shadows.

At least ten wolf hunters, moving with predatory precision. They carried silver swords that gleamed in the torchlight, crossbows loaded with what I knew would be silver-tipped bolts, and nets that glinted with the unmistakable sheen of silver thread.

They had been waiting. Waiting in the darkness for someone—for me—to walk right into their trap.

The leader, a scarred, middle-aged man with a face like weathered leather and eyes as cold as winter ice, stepped forward.

He smiled, and it was the most terrifying expression I'd ever seen. "Finally," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "We've been waiting for you."

His smile widened. "We knew someone would come through the sewers eventually. It was only a matter of time."