Chapter 48 I Need to Get Out of Here

Chapter 48 I Need to Get Out of Here
Lucienne's Point of View

The faint echo of footsteps from above stiffened me, and my senses strained for any sign of danger. Every sound in this cell was magnified—every whisper of air, every creak of the floorboards. It had been hours, maybe longer since I had last seen anyone. My body ached, and my wrists were raw from the restraints, but I forced myself to stay alert.

When the door creaked open, I expected Beatrice’s manic figure or Rodney’s menacing leer. Instead, Michaela’s familiar form came downstairs, her face carefully blank but her eyes darting nervously. She carried a tray of food, the smell wafting toward me, making my stomach growl despite myself.

She hesitated before crouching down to push the tray through the bottom of the bars. She moved to the box on the wall that adjusted the chains. The weight eased slightly, and I could finally lift my arms enough to rub the soreness from them.

“You need to eat,” Michaela said softly, pushing the tray toward me. Her tone was quiet, but there was an urgency in her movements.

I eyed her cautiously, unsure whether she would truly help me. “Have you managed to contact Marc and Cole?” I asked, my voice hoarse but steady.

She glanced over her shoulder before whispering, “Yes, I contacted the Alphas. I used Beatrice’s phone,” she explained, her voice barely audible. “It wasn’t easy because Dwayne’s been watching me, but I managed it while they were all down here earlier.”

“Did you cover your tracks and delete the call history?” I asked, worried for her safety. The goddess knows what Beatrice would have done if Michaela was caught, so help me.

“Yes, I deleted the call history. As for the Alphas, they now know the general area where you are, and they’re on their way. They’ll be here in a few hours, maybe half a day.”

I stared at her, my mind racing. Could I trust her? There was no way to know for sure, but her body language matched her words, and she carried an aura of truth I couldn’t ignore. Relief coursed through me, but it was tempered by the knowledge that time was still against us. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice sincere.

Michaela hesitated, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the edge of the chain. Her voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight of guilt and fear. “I just hope they don’t kill me when they get here,” she murmured, her eyes darting nervously toward the stairs as though expecting someone to overhear.

I frowned, confusion mingling with the ache of my injuries. “Who would kill you?”

“The Alphas.”

“Why would you think that?” I asked softly, my tone laced with curiosity and concern.

Her shoulders sagged under the invisible burden she carried. “Because I’m here with the enemy,” she admitted her voice bitter and laced with self-loathing. “I helped Beatrice with the video to humiliate you. I stood there and watched as they planned every detail, and I said nothing. That makes me complicit.”

I studied her momentarily, the faint flicker of remorse in her expression catching my attention. “But you’re helping me now,” I said firmly, my voice steady despite the pain of being shot with wolfsbane bullets, not to mention being held in a small underground box and chained to the walls.

“That matters. Actions like this matter. So, I won’t let them kill you—unless you betray me again.” My words were sharp, but I softened them with a steady look, willing her to feel the sincerity behind them.

Her gaze met mine, and for a fleeting moment, a spark of hope ignited in her weary eyes. It was fragile, like the first tentative rays of sunlight breaking through a storm. She swallowed hard and looked away, her voice trembling as she replied. “Thank you for giving me another chance,” she said, her tone filled with quiet gratitude and disbelief, as though she didn’t deserve my mercy.

I reached out as far as the loosened chains would allow, touching her arm lightly to get her attention. “Don’t thank me yet,” I said, my voice tinged with steel. “Thank me by making sure I get out of here alive. Prove to me—and yourself—that you’re more than what they’ve tried to make you.”

Michaela blinked back tears, her lips pressed into a thin line as she nodded. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

As she loosened the chains some more, it was enough for me to move slightly and reach my plate of food. I felt a faint stirring deep within me. It was subtle but unmistakable, like a spark igniting in the darkness. My wolf was still quiet, but something else was waking up: my Fae magic.

“Michaela,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil in my chest, “I need your help with something else.”

She frowned. “What is it?”

“I want you to mind-link Marc and Cole.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s impossible. I already told you they’re too far away.”

“Trust me,” I said, a hint of urgency creeping into my tone. “I can boost your power. I just need you to hold my hand and focus on them.”

Michaela hesitated, her gaze flickering with doubt. “I’ve never done anything like that before. What if it doesn’t work?”

“It will,” I assured her. “Earth magic is tied to stability and connection. I’ll use it to anchor the link.”

I could see that she was wondering how I had elemental magic, but she didn’t ask me why. Reluctantly, she reached out, her hand trembling slightly as it clasped mine. I closed my eyes, focusing on the steady pulse of energy within me. It was faint but growing stronger, like a seed pushing through the soil.

“Now,” I whispered, “reach for them.”

I felt the shift immediately—the subtle vibration of power flowing from me into Michaela. Her gasp told me she felt it, too. Through her, I could sense Marc and Cole, their presence like a distant flame in the darkness.

“Marc? Cole?” I called. I could feel through their emotions that they could hear me. Their relief was palpable, flooding through the link like a warm embrace.

“Lucienne?” Marc’s voice echoed faintly through the dim corridor, carrying both relief and desperation that sent a shiver down my spine. It was raw, almost broken, as though he had been searching for me for days, fighting against the gnawing fear that he might be too late.

As if he could read my mind, he told me I had been missing for three and a half days and asleep for two and a half of them.

“Do you know where you are?” Cole asked, his tone sharp with urgency.

“Only that I’m underground,” I explained quickly. “In a cell. Michaela’s been helping me.”

“We know,” Marc said. “We know the general area you are being held. We’re close—three, maybe four hours away. Stay strong, Lucienne. We’re coming.”

The link faded as Michaela pulled her hand away, her face pale and her breaths shallow. “I can’t believe that worked,” she murmured.

“It’s because of the magic,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I told you it would work.”

I told her that because I was a member of the Royal family, I had access to some elemental magic. I tried to keep most of my abilities secret. There was no way I would tell her everything—not about my Lycan waking up or the full extent of my Fae powers. Those were secrets I would keep from everyone except my mates.

Suddenly, the door slammed open with a jarring bang, and Beatrice’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. “Michaela, what are you doing down here?” she screeched, her tone shrill and grating, with a pitch that seemed to echo off the walls.

Her words carried a biting edge of accusation, each word laced with venom as if she was poised to tear Michaela apart for even daring to breathe the wrong way. Like mother, like daughter, Beatrice was truly a despicable person. It was unsurprising that Beatrice would treat her friend the same way Elizabeth treated her.

The sound sent a shiver through me, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. It was the kind of voice that demanded attention, designed to intimidate, yet reeked of desperation—like she was trying too hard to assert control. The high-pitched tone scraped against my nerves, and I could feel Michaela flinch beside me, her entire body tensing at the sound.

“I—I wasn’t doing anything!” Michaela stammered, her own voice trembling and uneven as she twisted toward Beatrice. It was a stark contrast, soft and defensive, against Beatrice’s harsh, almost ear-piercing shriek.

Still facing me, I could see the look on her face. Michaela’s expression turned blank in an instant, her posture stiffening. “Just bringing her food,” she said evenly, stepping away from me.

Beatrice sneered. “You’ve been here long enough. Get upstairs.”

Without another word, Michaela turned and left, her face unreadable. As the door closed behind her, I felt a flicker of hope. Marc and Cole were coming. All I had to do was hold on.

And when they arrived, they would end this nightmare once and for all.