Chapter 60 Through the Dark
Sable’s POV
At first there was nothing.
No sound. No shape. Just a dark so deep it pressed against me like a second skin. I floated inside it, weightless. My body felt far away, like I’d left it behind somewhere I couldn’t reach. My mind scrambled for an anchor, and the first one it found was him.
Kier.
I saw him in the dark the way you see lightning behind your eyelids—flashes of him caught between heartbeats. The sharp cut of his jaw, those storm-gray eyes that always found me no matter where I hid, the heat of his hand when he’d held my face like it meant something. His voice echoed through the dark, low and rough, saying my name like a promise.
It wasn’t a memory. It wasn’t a dream. It was both. Too vivid to be imagination, too soft to be real. My pulse quickened, remembering the press of his mouth on mine, the way his breath had shuddered when we almost crossed that line. For a moment, I let myself sink into it—his warmth, the bond thrumming between us, the illusion of safety.
The air smelled like rain and cedar. We were in his penthouse again, lights low, city spread out below like stars had fallen to earth. I was laughing. My fingers traced the edge of his collar, the warmth of his throat beneath it.
“I thought I told you to stop chasing me,” I teased.
He smiled against my temple. “You ran. I chased. That’s how this works.”
My chest fluttered. “You don’t always have to.”
“I do when it’s you,” he murmured, voice low and rough, every word pulling at something deep inside me.
He kissed me, slow and deep, and everything inside me fell into place—the ache, the pull, the wanting that had never really stopped. For a heartbeat, the world was whole again.
But the warmth began to crack at the edges. The skyline outside his windows dimmed. The city lights flickered and died, one by one, until only blackness pressed in. His touch went cold.
“Kier?”
He didn’t answer. The bond, once alive and electric, tightened until it hurt. My lungs seized. The scent of rain turned sour—metallic, sharp, wrong.
Something is wrong.
The penthouse melted away, light dripping like oil down glass. The warmth vanished. My wolf stirred, restless beneath my skin, but her voice was faint, warped by distance. I reached for her, desperate, but she was buried under something heavy, like ice.
“Kier!” My voice cracked, echoing through the dark.
Nothing answered. Only a hum—low and steady, unnatural. Then came the cold smell of concrete. Rust. Something electric.
The dark shifted. Sounds bled in—drips of water, the far-off scuttle of something in the walls. Concrete smell, sharp and cold. A low hum like electricity running through old wires.
I tried to move. My body responded slow, heavy, each thought taking too long to turn into action. My wrists ached. My shoulders were pulled back, locked. When I tugged, a sting flared bright and vicious.
Chains.
Memory slammed into me: the alley, Sam’s face under the flickering lamp, his voice saying, I’ve got you. The sharp sting at my neck. The bitter smell of wolfbane. My legs giving out.
My stomach dropped so hard I almost retched.
The darkness didn’t retreat this time. It shattered. I dragged in a breath and forced my eyes open.
Light burned, harsh and thin, strung in a crooked line overhead. It flickered, making the shadows jump. I blinked against it, groggy, my head thick as if cotton had been stuffed behind my eyes.
Concrete. Rust. A warehouse, abandoned but not empty.
And him. “Sam,” I rasped, my voice barely more than a whisper, sandpaper against the back of my throat.
Sam sat a few feet away on an upturned crate, elbows on his knees, watching me like a man keeping vigil. His glasses had slid down his nose, and his hands were clasped too tight, knuckles white. He looked tired, but behind his eyes there was something else—something too steady, too intent.
“Hey,” he said softly when he saw me stir, like we were back at the office after a long pitch, like this was nothing more than another late night. “You’re awake.”
I blinked again, trying to clear the haze. My arms jerked automatically, testing the restraints. The silver burned where it touched my skin, and I gasped.
He winced. “I’m sorry. I had to.”
The chains rattled, mocking me. My wolf clawed against the surface of me, furious, but weak. The wolfbane had seeped through every corner of my veins, dulling her claws, stealing her teeth. She couldn’t rise. I couldn’t reach her.
Panic licked up my throat, fast and raw.
“What did you do?” My voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
Sam leaned forward, earnest, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. “I saved you, Sable. From him. From all of them. You don’t see it, but I do. You don’t have to be his. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to.”
The words should have calmed me. They didn’t. They rang wrong, like keys jangled out of tune.
I tugged again at the chains, the burn searing deep into my wrists. My wolf whimpered, furious and helpless.
Sam’s voice softened, but his eyes stayed hard. “Don’t fight it. Please. Just listen to me.”
The last of the fog lifted enough for me to taste the truth. I wasn’t in the dark anymore. I wasn’t dreaming. I was bound, drugged, and caged—and the man I had once called friend sat across from me, believing it was salvation.
And for the first time in five years, I was truly afraid.