Chapter 172

Chapter 177

Katherine POV

I entered with the triplets and Jackson once the initial chaos had subsided, glass crunching beneath my boots. The air inside was stale, thick with the stench of unwashed bodies, cheap alcohol, and something else—a cloying, sickly-sweet scent I recognized as dark magic.

In the center of the main room stood Blaise, completely still amidst the destruction, staring into space with vacant eyes. His body was there, but his essence—the spark that made him Blaise—was noticeably absent. Jackson moved toward him with the fluid grace of a predator and delivered a brutal punch to his face, the sound of impact like a gunshot in the room. Blood sprayed from Blaise's split lip, but his expression didn't change. Jackson followed with another blow that sent more blood spattering across the dirty floorboards.

"Stop," I commanded, moving closer, my senses tingling with the unmistakable aura of a curse. Jackson turned to me with fury burning in his eyes, his chest heaving.

"Why?" he demanded, gesturing at Blaise with a bloodied hand. "He's the one who took her. He's the reason she's gone."

I shook my head, studying Blaise's vacant expression, the unnaturally still way he held himself. "No, it wasn't him. Look at him," I insisted, stepping closer. "He didn't do anything wrong. He's been cursed." I placed my hand near him, not quite touching, feeling the dark, oily energy surrounding him like a cocoon. "I can feel it—a binding spell, powerful one. He's a puppet, nothing more."

Across the room, Samuel had tackled Magnus to the floor and was pummeling him mercilessly, each blow accompanied by a sickening thud and a spray of blood. Magnus's attempts to shield his face were growing weaker, his movements sluggish.

"You had a witch working for you?" Samuel growled between punches, his voice distorted with rage. "Pathetic waste of space... you needed a fucking witch to help you because you're too weak to face us on your own."

Magnus's face was barely recognizable beneath Samuel's fists, a mask of blood and rapidly swelling tissue.

"Samuel," Edward called, pulling at his brother's arm with surprising gentleness given the situation. "If he's dead, he can't talk. We need information."

Samuel snarled, his eyes fully wolf-amber now, teeth elongated into fangs. "If he's dead, his people will be too scared to lie to us," he countered, raising his fist for another blow.

Lucius joined Edward in dragging Samuel off Magnus, their combined strength finally succeeding where Edward alone had failed. Magnus spat a mouthful of blood and what looked like fragments of teeth as he staggered to his feet, clutching the edge of a broken table for support.

"Where's the witch?" Samuel demanded, his muscles straining visibly against his brothers' grip, veins standing out on his neck and forehead. "Tell us or I finish what I started."

Magnus's bloodied lips curved into a smile that was more grimace than grin, revealing crimson-stained teeth. "Closer than you think," he rasped, his voice wet with blood.

I felt it then—a pulse of magic, distinct and malevolent, coming from elsewhere in the cabin. The sensation was like ice water trickling down my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin. Without hesitation, I gathered my power and teleported myself to the source, the world blurring around me before resolving into what must have been the kitchen.

A woman stood in the center of a pentagram drawn on the floor in what looked disturbingly like dried blood. Black candles burned at each point, their flames an unnatural violet color. She was chanting over a map spread on a rickety table, a crystal suspended from a chain held in her trembling hand. She looked up at my sudden appearance, her eyes widening with recognition and fear.

I gathered my power—feeling it build in my chest like a gathering storm—and released it in a violent surge that blasted the witch through the exterior wall of the cabin. Wood splintered and disintegrated around her as she was propelled backward by the invisible force, landing in a broken heap outside. I followed through the jagged hole my magic had created, stepping carefully over the debris.

The witch looked up at me from the ground, blood trickling from her nose and ears, yet somehow a contemptuous smile twisted her features. The expression ignited my fury anew. I held out my hand, fingers splayed, lifting her telekinetically until her feet dangled helplessly above the ground. My fingers slowly tightened into a fist, constricting an invisible force around her throat as I suspended her in the night air.

She clawed desperately at the unseen pressure crushing her windpipe, her feet kicking uselessly as her face purpled. Her eyes bulged with terror and rage as I squeezed harder, watching dispassionately as she struggled, then went limp, her frantic movements ceasing as the life faded from her eyes. I held her there for several seconds longer, ensuring she was truly gone, before dropping her body unceremoniously to the ground like the garbage she was.

I stepped back through the hole in the wall, brushing splinters from my clothes with an automatic gesture. In the kitchen, I examined the map and crystal on the table, noting the pattern of movements the crystal had made, the areas circled and crossed out.

"They've been trying location spells," I announced as I returned to the main room where Magnus was now secured with silver chains. "They don't know where she is. The witch was still searching."

The realization brought both relief and concern. If Natalie's captors couldn't find her, she might be safe from them—but we still had no idea where she was, and neither did they.

A warrior burst through the door, his face flushed with exertion, interrupting my thoughts. "Your Majesty..." he panted, his eyes wide with excitement. "We were just searching the forest. We found this near the river." He held up a familiar silver pendant suspended on a delicate chain. The moonstone at its center caught the light, its milky surface swirling with faint blue patterns.

"Natalie's moonstone," I whispered, taking it from him with trembling fingers. The stone was warm to the touch, pulsing gently against my skin as if recognizing me—a mother's connection to her child.

Edward frowned, his forehead creasing with worry. "Well, that explains why the dragons have been acting strange lately. They're bound to the stone."

"She needs this for protection," I said, clutching it tightly until the edges of the setting bit into my palm. Without her moonstone, Natalie was vulnerable not just to physical attacks, but to her own unpredictable magic. The stone was both amplifier and stabilizer—without it, her powers could manifest in dangerous, uncontrolled ways.

Magnus laughed from where he leaned against the wall, the sound wet and grotesque through his broken teeth and split lips. "Well, I guess the little princess is screwed now, isn't she?" he taunted, seemingly unconcerned with his own precarious situation.

Before anyone could react, I crossed the room in three rapid strides and drove my fist into his stomach with enough force to seriously injure but not kill him. The impact lifted him off his feet momentarily, the air leaving his lungs in a violent whoosh. He doubled over, coughing blood onto the floor, his chains rattling as he struggled to remain standing.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up to force him to look at me. My voice emerged as a feral hiss, barely recognizable as human. "Try laughing about my daughter's death one more time," I warned, my face inches from his. "I fucking dare you to try."

He couldn't respond, too busy choking on his own blood, his eyes wide with genuine fear now. I released him with disgust and turned away, wiping my bloodied knuckles on my pants. The moonstone remained clutched tightly in my other hand as I tried to suppress the fear rising within me like a tidal wave.

Where are you, Natalie? The question echoed in my mind, unanswered and devastating.

The trail had gone cold, and Natalie was still lost to me.