Chapter 125 No Turning Back
Wynter's POV
"What mission?" I demanded, my voice rising despite my attempts to stay calm. "What is Draven really planning?"
Thomas's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "You'll find out soon enough. When the trap closes. When you realize you've been dancing to his tune all along. Every step you've taken, every choice you've made—all exactly what he wanted. The ledger, this alliance, even you standing here right now—" He looked at me with something like pity. "All part of the design."
Through the Bond, I felt Chase's alarm spike sharply, felt him reaching the same terrible conclusion I was—what if Thomas was right? What if we'd been manipulated from the beginning?
Jax had clearly had enough. His hand shot out, grabbing Thomas by the throat with enough force to cut off his air. "Answer her question," he growled, his wolf bleeding through in his voice, making the words come out distorted and inhuman. "Where. Are. The. Children."
But Thomas just smiled through the choking—a terrible, knowing smile that made dread coil in my stomach like a living thing. His eyes locked on mine, triumphant even as his face began to turn purple from lack of oxygen.
Then, before any of us could stop him, he bit down hard.
Blood poured from his mouth as he severed his own tongue, the sound wet and horrible in the sudden silence. He choked, convulsing against the guards' hold, but his eyes never left mine—still triumphant, still certain even in his dying moments that he'd won.
"No!" I lunged forward, but Lord Julian caught me, pulling me back as Thomas slumped in the chair, blood pooling beneath him and spreading across the floor in a dark stain.
"He's gone," the guard captain said after checking for a pulse, his voice shaken. "Suicide by tongue severance—there's nothing we could have done."
"He was trained for this," Chase said grimly, his arm coming around my shoulders. Through the Bond, I felt his horror mixing with his tactical assessment of what this meant. "Bloodrock operatives carry poison in hollow teeth. Even if we'd stopped him from biting his tongue, he would have found another way. They're conditioned to die rather than betray their mission."
Lord Julian stood rigid, staring at Thomas's body with an expression I couldn't read. Finally, he turned to his guard captain. "I want every servant in this manor questioned. Every guard, every staff member—I want to know how deep Bloodrock's infiltration goes. And I want it done within the hour."
"Yes, my lord."
"And prepare the defenses. That signal means Bloodrock knows we're here, knows we have the ledger. They'll send forces to retrieve it—probably already on their way." He looked at Chase. "How long do you think we have?"
"Hours at most," Chase said. "If they had people positioned nearby, they could be here within two or three hours. If they're coming from Bloodrock proper, maybe six."
Lord Julian nodded, his expression grim, then moved toward a map on his desk. "You need to leave immediately. I'll provide an escort—my best warriors. The northern route through the mountains is your safest option. It's treacherous, but defensible. Better to face them on ground we choose than let them catch us in the open."
"My lord," the guard captain protested, "shouldn't you accompany them? If Bloodrock has infiltrated this deep—"
"No." Lord Julian's voice was firm, though I saw the conflict in his eyes as he looked at me. "My place is here, protecting Emerald Valley from whatever Bloodrock sends next. If they've planted spies in my own household, my people need me now more than ever." He placed a hand on my shoulder, his weathered face softening. "But I'm sending my finest warriors with you—men and women I've known for years, who I trust with my life. They'll see you safely to Silvermoon."
The words felt like both a promise and a farewell. Through the Bond, I felt Chase's understanding—Lord Julian was making the choice every leader dreaded, sacrificing what he wanted for what his territory needed.
"Your father would be proud of you," Lord Julian said quietly, his hand tightening on my shoulder. "Of your courage, your determination to see justice done. I want you to know that." His voice dropped lower, meant for my ears alone. "I've already lost one member of Arthur's family. I won't lose another. My warriors will guard you with their lives."
The words broke something open in my chest—grief and pride and desperate hope all tangled together. "Thank you," I managed, my voice thick.
"We'll finish this," he promised. "For Arthur. For all the lives Draven has destroyed. You bring that ledger to Lord Aldric, forge that alliance, and we'll finish it together."
---
We left within the hour, a small convoy moving swiftly through Emerald Valley's streets toward the northern gates. Lord Julian had assembled a force of twenty warriors—his personal guard, men and women he'd known for years and trusted absolutely. They rode with the disciplined silence of seasoned soldiers, their eyes constantly scanning for threats even within the city walls.
As we passed through the city, I saw people watching from windows and doorways, their faces tight with worry. The red signal flare had put everyone on edge, and whispers followed us like ghosts as we rode past. I caught fragments—Bloodrock spies... the ledger... Lady Wynter...—each word a reminder of how precarious our situation had become.
At the city gates, the captain of Lord Julian's guard—a grizzled veteran named Commander Raven—pulled his horse alongside mine. "Lady Wynter," he said, his voice gravelly but respectful, "Lord Julian has entrusted us with your safety. We won't fail him, or your father's memory."
The mountain path was as treacherous as promised—narrow switchbacks that climbed steadily higher, loose scree that threatened to send horses sliding, drops on either side that made my stomach clench every time I looked down. But it was defensible. Anyone trying to attack us would have to come in small groups, single file, exposing themselves to counterattack.
We climbed in relative silence, the only sounds the clop of hooves on stone and the occasional nervous whinny from a horse unnerved by the heights. I found myself scanning the cliffs above us constantly, my wolf's instincts on high alert.
We'd been climbing for perhaps two hours when I noticed the birds had stopped singing.
The realization came gradually—first just a vague sense that something was off, then the conscious awareness that the natural sounds of the mountain had gone silent. No bird calls. No rustle of small animals in the underbrush. Just wind and stone and the sound of our own passage.
Chase, I sent through the Bond, my mental voice tight with growing alarm. Does something feel wrong to you?
Yes, he sent back immediately, and through our connection I felt his wolf rising to the surface, senses sharpening. The horses are nervous. And look— he nodded toward the cliffs above, —no wildlife. Nothing moving at all.
Ambush?
Maybe. Or we're being paranoid. But through the Bond, I felt his absolute certainty that we weren't.
That's when Jax held up his hand, his whole body going rigid in a way that made my heart drop.
"Stop," he said quietly, his eyes scanning the cliffs above us with predatory focus. "Something's wrong."