Chapter 74: High Stakes

Chapter 74: High Stakes

\- SELENE

The wind at this altitude didn’t just blow; it shrieked. It felt like a physical hand trying to shove me off the ledge of the Iron Spires. Every time my boots skidded on the loose shale, a spray of black rock tumbled into the abyss, the sound swallowed instantly by the gale.

"Watch the shelf to your left," Rowan called out. He wasn't even breathing hard, which was frankly annoying given that my lungs felt like they’d been scrubbed with steel wool. "The granite is slicker than it looks."

"I’m fine," I snapped, though my fingers were numb and my shredded silk skirts were snagging on every jagged outcrop. "Just keep moving before I decide to sit down and let the Ravens eat me."

Rowan stopped, dropping into a low crouch behind a natural pillar of basalt. He pulled a pair of high-powered binoculars from his pack, his hands moving with that cold, practised efficiency. He didn't look like a man on the run; he looked like a predator waiting for a reason to bite.

"They’re three hundred yards down," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the valley below. "Varick is leading the sweep. He’s got the Ravens in a pincer. They think we’re heading for the summit."

I slumped against the freezing stone, trying to steady my heart. "Let them think it. The higher they climb, the harder they’ll find it to breathe. Most of those guys are used to the lowlands."

"They’re fast, Selene. Faster than I expected for a group carrying that much gear."

"Kaelen probably promised them a year’s wages for my head," I said, wiping a streak of grime across my forehead. "Or maybe he promised them a turn with the 'Luna' once he’s done breaking me. That usually gets the bastards moving."

Rowan’s jaw tightened—that familiar, dangerous twitch in his cheek. "They aren't getting anywhere near you."

"I know," I said, reaching into my inner pocket. I pulled out the small glass vials I’d swiped from the infirmary. The Wolf’s Bane extract was a thick, sickly yellow liquid. "But I’m not exactly planning on playing fair, either."

Rowan looked at the vials, then back at me. A slow, grim smirk touched his lips. "You’ve been spending too much time with Kaelen. That’s a dirty trick."

"Four years in that house taught me that 'fair' is just a word people use when they’re about to lose. I’m done losing."

We moved higher, the path narrowing until we were sidling along a cliff face with nothing but a three-hundred-foot drop to our right. The air was getting thinner, sharper. I could feel the adrenaline beginning to peak, that jagged buzz that makes your vision go crystal clear and your hands stop shaking.

"Here," Rowan whispered, pulling me into a narrow crevice behind a waterfall of frozen ivy and rock. "This is the funnel. If they want to reach the peak, they have to come through this gap."

"Perfect," I said.

I uncorked the vials. The smell hit me instantly—bitter, metallic, and sharp enough to make my eyes water. I began pouring the liquid into the shallow grooves of the stone path, right where the wind would carry the scent downward into the lungs of anyone climbing up.

"It’ll hit their senses first," I muttered. "Before they even see us, they’ll feel like their chests are collapsing. It’s not enough to kill a shifter, but it’ll sure as hell ruin their day."

"Get back," Rowan said, pulling me deeper into the shadows. "I can hear them."

I froze. At first, it was just the wind. Then, between the gusts, I heard it. The rhythmic clack of tactical boots on stone. The heavy, laboured breathing of men who weren't used to the Iron Spires.

"Spread out!" Varick’s voice barked, echoing off the rock walls. He sounded closer than I wanted him to be. "The trail ends here. She can't have jumped, and she's too weak to climb the North face. Find the bitch!"

I looked at Rowan. He had his sidearm out, his thumb resting on the safety. He gave me a sharp, single nod. Wait.

A shadow fell across the entrance of our crevice. A young Raven—I recognized him, one of the new recruits Kaelen had been so proud of—stepped into the funnel. He took one step, then another.

Then he stopped.

He let out a choked, wet sound. His hands flew to his throat as the concentrated fumes of the Wolf's Bane hit his system. He stumbled back, his eyes bulging as his internal wolf reacted to the poison, trying to shift and failing in a violent spasm of muscle and bone.

"What is—" he started, but he didn't finish.

Rowan was a blur of motion. He didn't shoot; he didn't want the noise to draw the rest of them yet. He slammed the butt of his pistol into the kid’s temple with a sickening thwack. The Raven went down like a sack of stones.

"One down," Rowan breathed.

"Varick!" another voice yelled from below. "Something’s wrong! Jax just went down! There’s something in the air—"

"It’s Bane!" Varick roared. "Hold your breath and move! It’s a trap!"

"No shit, Varick!" I yelled back, my voice echoing through the Spires. "Took you long enough to figure it out!"

"Selene!" Varick’s voice was pure venom. I could hear him scrambling up the rocks, fueled by the kind of rage that ignores a lack of oxygen. "You think this changes anything? You’re trapped! There’s nowhere to go but down!"

"Then come and get me, you miserable prick!" I shouted.

I grabbed a heavy rock from the floor—granite, jagged and heavy. As Varick’s head appeared over the ledge of the funnel, I didn't hesitate. I didn't think about the "gentle Luna" Kaelen had tried to mold. I just threw.

The rock caught him right in the shoulder. He let out a grunt of pain, his grip slipping on the shale. He didn't fall, but it bought Rowan the three seconds he needed.

Rowan stepped out into the open, his pistol leveled. Pop-pop. Two rounds, muffled by the wind. One caught a second Raven in the leg; the other hit the rock inches from Varick’s hand, showering him in stone splinters.

"Back off!" Rowan commanded, his voice like a whip. "Next one goes through your eyes, Varick. I don't care how fast you think you can shift."

Varick was crouched on the ledge, his face contorted in a mask of fury and Bane-induced nausea. He looked at Rowan, then at me. He saw the empty vials in my hand and the cold, flat look in my eyes.

"Kaelen will peel the skin from your bones for this," Varick hissed, his chest heaving.

"Kaelen can’t even find his mistress, Varick," I said, stepping out from the shadows to stand beside Rowan. "How do you think he’s going to handle the High Council when they find out he’s been poisoning the neutral territories?"

"You're a dead woman," Varick spat.

"Maybe. But I'm a free one," I said. "And you? You're just a dog on a shorter leash than I ever was."

"Let's go," Rowan said, grabbing my arm. He fired one more warning shot into the ground at Varick’s feet, sending the enforcer scrambling back into the cover of the lower rocks.

We hauled ourselves up the final, jagged peak of the Spires, our fingers bleeding and our breath coming in ragged gasps. When we reached the summit, the world opened up.

The Neutral Zone lay below us, a vast, dark expanse of forest and flickering city lights in the distance. The wind was even louder here, but it felt different. It felt like an invitation.

"We did it," I whispered, leaning against Rowan as we looked out over the edge.

"Not yet," he said, though he was finally starting to breathe normally. "We have to get down the South face before they regroup. But we broke their momentum. They won't be following us tonight."

I looked back at the Iron Spires. Somewhere down there, Varick was nursing a shattered shoulder and a bruised ego. And back at the manor, Kaelen was probably realizing that the woman he’d spent four years "perfecting" had just burned his world to the ground.

"Rowan?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I’m going to throw up," I said, my knees finally giving out.

He caught me, his arms locking around my waist as I sank to the cold ground. He let out a short, dry laugh—the first real sound of amusement I’d heard from him in days.

"Go ahead," he said, pulling me into his lap. "You’ve earned it. Then we get the hell out of here."

I sat there for a minute, my head on his shoulder, watching the first light of dawn bleed over the horizon. I was a mess. My hair was a bird's nest of soot and tangles, my dress was a rag, and I was pretty sure I’d broken a toe.

"Ready?" Rowan asked, helping me to my feet.

"Ready," I said.

We turned our backs on the Silver Ridge and started the long walk down toward the lights.