Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Damien’s POV
I halted, every muscle in my body tensed, the third howl slicing through the trees like a knife against stone.
Killian.
That voice—I recognized it like the smell of smoke after a fire-fight: familiar, bitter, impossible to forget. He was close. Way too close. And that howl? It wasn’t just noise. It was a call, a claim. A warning.
“She made her move…” I muttered under my breath, my gaze sweeping the shadowy woods below. “And he was waiting for it.”
I dropped low into the underbrush, my fingers brushing against the dagger at my hip. Silver-tipped. Not for defense—if I had to use that, we were already in deep trouble. I fished out the small stone tucked beneath my shirt, pressing it between my fingers. A silent charm, one of the few I actually trusted from the witches. I flicked it lightly, watching it flare for a moment before it dimmed again. Rhys would feel that from the southern ridge. Time to retreat. Time to disappear.
But I wasn’t going anywhere.
Not yet.
I crept forward, my feet barely making a sound against the moss, breathing in slowly and steadily. The eastern woods ahead? Too quiet. Even the nightbirds had stopped their songs. Something didn’t feel right. I could sense it deep in my bones. A trap had been set.
And Larisa was right in the middle of it.
I reached a low outcrop that overlooked the worn trail leading from the well. My eyes scanned the trees. There—movement. A shadow flitted behind a pine. Not a guard. Too careful. Too quick.
Larisa.
She stepped gracefully from between the trunks, wearing the dark cloak I’d left for her days ago in the hollow of the dead oak. Her hair was pinned up, her face hidden behind the scarf I’d sewn with a masking charm. For a heartbeat, relief washed over me—she made it.
But then—
A snap.
Not from her.
But from behind her.
A figure emerged, just out of her line of sight. Tall, broad-shouldered, radiating power even from afar.
Killian.
He didn’t make a move to stop her. No shout, no rush. He just watched her, like a wolf studying an injured doe, waiting for her to let her guard down before he struck.
Smart bastard.
I cursed under my breath, pulled a second charm stone from my pouch. This one would cloud our scent trails for five minutes—just long enough to get her out if I could reach her.
But I had to distract him first.
I slid along the edge of the ridge, grabbing a small pouch from my belt. Inside, powdered ashroot mixed with dried wolfsbane. Not lethal, but it would irritate the senses, trigger a guard response. I crushed it between my fingers and scattered it toward the east, letting the wind carry it.
Within seconds, a sharp yelp pierced the air. One of the guards stumbled into the clearing, coughing like mad.
Good.
Larisa flinched, taking a step back toward the trees.
Killian turned.
Now.
I sprang from the ridge, landing low behind a thicket, and whistled—just once, soft and quick. Larisa’s head snapped in my direction, our eyes locking.
Then she moved.
Fast. Silent. Straight toward me.
She reached the thicket and slid in beside me, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I grabbed her wrist before she could say a word.
“Don’t talk. Just move.”
I led her toward the edge of the ravine where Rhys and I had carved a false opening into the slope. Behind us, Killian barked an order, and wolves sprang into action. But he didn’t know where we were—not yet.
“How did he know?” she whispered, barely audible.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Can you run?”
She nodded once. “Yes.”
“Good. Then when I say go, you sprint south. The old sewer tunnel—remember?”
“I remember.”
Footsteps crashed behind us. Way too close.
No more waiting.
“Now.”
She took off running.
I was right on her heels, the forest a blur around us. Arrows zipped past. A growl cut through the air, and something massive landed ahead of us—
Killian.
He crouched there, claws unsheathed, amber eyes glowing in the dark. He didn’t look surprised. No, he looked smug.
“I knew you’d come, Ace.”
I pushed Larisa behind me, baring my teeth. "Get back!"
"He’s got no claim on her," he growled. "She’s tainted by your mark, but she’s still mine."
"Not anymore."
We moved in a slow circle, every step calculated.
Then, out of nowhere, I heard—
A whistle.
Short and low. A signal. Rhys.
“Now!” I yelled.
Larisa took off, veering to the right.
Killian didn’t go after her. No, he lunged for me instead.
We collided in midair, claws flailing, fangs bared. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder—his teeth just barely grazing the bone. I let out a roar, slamming my knee into his gut, and tossed him aside. I didn’t even look back to see where he landed.
I just ran.
Blood was trickling down my arm, my vision starting to blur. I finally reached the tunnel entrance right as Larisa slipped inside. Rhys yanked her through, and then he grabbed my hand. But just as I was about to follow—
A net made of pure silver crashed down on me.
Pain hit me like a freight train.
Blinding.
Searing.
I collapsed, smoke curling up from my skin.
“Damien!” Larisa’s voice echoed through the stone walls.
I could hear Killian’s boots crunching behind me.
He knelt down, his voice dripping with malice.
“Let’s find out just how much you’re willing to bleed… for her.”