Chapter 193
Cole
The world became a blur of white and gray as we raced across the frozen landscape. Our paws found purchase on ice that would have been treacherous in human form. Our enhanced senses picked up every detail—the distant rumble of Ethan's vehicle behind us, the chemical stench growing stronger as we approached the plant, and beneath it all, that precious thread of white musk and first snow that meant Kara was still alive.
Blood, Blake's thought cut through the rhythm of our running. I smell blood. Not hers—someone else's. She fought.
He was right. As we drew closer to the massive structure, I caught the scent too. Human blood, or rather, the blood of whoever Kara had injured. My medical training catalogued the details automatically—arterial spray pattern, fresh enough to be less than two hours old, the metallic tang mixing with the pharmaceutical plant's underlying chemical odors.
She's fighting, I sent back, pride and fear warring in my chest. Even pregnant, even collared, she's still fighting.
Focus, Asher commanded, but I felt his own surge of fierce pride through the bond. We can beat ourselves up for not protecting her better after we get her back. Right now, we move.
The pharmaceutical plant loomed before us, its bulk blocking out the stars. Up close, it was even more imposing—five stories of concrete and steel that had been left to rot for decades. But as we circled toward the eastern side, I noticed details that contradicted the abandoned appearance. Fresh tire tracks in the snow. Recently disturbed earth around what looked like ventilation shafts. And most telling of all, the faint shimmer of blood magic wards that had been carefully woven to look like nothing more than shadows and ice.
The building's been modified, Asher observed. Look at the architectural style—that's not mid-twentieth century American. Those are eighteenth-century European design elements. Diana's older than we thought. Much older.
I don't care if she's a thousand years old, Blake snarled. She took our mate. She's going to die screaming.
We found the eastern loading dock Jasper had marked on his maps. The massive roll-up door was rusted and appeared stuck, but when Blake and I put our combined wolf strength against it, the metal groaned and began to rise. The wards resisted, sending painful shocks through our bodies, but Dmitri's silver powder coating our fur provided just enough protection to push through.
The corridor beyond was dark and reeked of mold and decay. But underneath those scents, I caught something that made my heart nearly stop.
Kara's scent. Fresh. She'd been here recently.
Blood trail, Asher's thought was grim. Barefoot. Running, not being dragged.
He was right. The faint red footprints led deeper into the building, each one a testament to Kara's desperate attempt to escape. But they weren't the shuffling, dragging marks of someone being forced along. They were the prints of someone running at full speed, someone who'd been injured but refused to slow down.
She got away, Blake's mental voice was filled with savage satisfaction. Our mate got away from them.
But where was she now? The trail led us through a maze of corridors, past rooms that had clearly been converted from pharmaceutical production to something far more sinister. I caught glimpses of examination tables equipped with restraints, walls covered in symbols I recognized from Dmitri's descriptions of blood magic rituals, and in one room, a collection of glass tanks that made my stomach turn.
Serpent tanks. Empty now, but the water still rippled with recent disturbance.
She was here, I sent through the bond. In this room. Her scent is everywhere.
We emerged into what had once been the plant's main production floor. The space was enormous, the ceiling lost in shadows high above. But dominating one wall was something that stopped all three of us in our tracks.
A massive stained glass window, incongruously beautiful in this place of horror. It depicted a white fox with its mouth open, and trapped inside that mouth were dozens of human figures—all women, all screaming silently in frozen agony.
The victims, Asher's thought was heavy with understanding. Everyone Diana's taken over the years. This is her trophy room.
But more importantly, Kara's scent led straight to that window. I could picture her standing here, staring up at this monument to Diana's crimes, perhaps seeing her mother's face among those trapped figures.
The window, I realized suddenly. It's not just art. Look at the frame—there are hinges. It's a door.
Without hesitation, I launched myself at the stained glass. The impact drove the breath from my lungs as I crashed through in an explosion of colored fragments. I tumbled through the opening beyond, glass shards embedding in my fur and skin, and landed hard on stone flooring on the other side.
COLE! Asher's mental shout was equal parts fury and fear.
I'm fine, I sent back, already shaking off the glass. My wolf's healing was already working on the cuts, pushing out the fragments. There's a room back here. I can smell her—she was here too.
Blake and Asher leaped through the broken window after me, landing with more grace than I'd managed. We found ourselves in what had been converted into an elegant dining room, completely at odds with the industrial decay of the rest of the building. A long table dominated the space, set with fine china and crystal that probably cost more than most people's houses.
But it was what hung on the walls that made my blood run cold. More portraits of women, dozens of them, all bearing the same vacant expression. All of them victims of Diana's body-snatching.
The table, Asher's thought drew my attention. Look at the floor beneath it.
A large oriental rug covered most of the dining room floor. But where Asher was focused, I could see the edge of the rug had been disturbed. And beneath it, barely visible, was the outline of what looked like a trapdoor.
She found it, Blake's mental voice was filled with pride and fear. Kara found the entrance to the lower levels.
I grabbed the edge of the rug in my teeth and pulled. The heavy fabric resisted, but with Asher and Blake helping, we managed to drag it aside. Underneath was a metal hatch covered in blood magic symbols that glowed faintly in the darkness.
Stand back, Asher commanded. He shifted to his half-form—still mostly wolf but with enough human shape to grip the hatch's handle. The blood magic fought him, sending visible shocks of dark energy up his arms, but he was an Alpha, and his will was stronger than the ward.
The hatch tore open with a shriek of protesting metal, revealing a stairwell that descended into absolute darkness.
Kara's scent rose from below, mixed with fear and determination and that precious white musk that meant she was still fighting, still surviving.
We plunged into the dark.
---
The stairwell seemed to go on forever, spiraling down into the earth far deeper than any normal building should extend. My wolf's night vision adjusted quickly, but even so, the darkness here felt wrong—heavy and oppressive in a way that had nothing to do with the absence of light.
Blood magic, Asher identified. The whole structure is saturated with it. Diana's been building this place for decades.
The stairs finally ended at a heavy door. Beyond it, I could hear the faint sound of movement—multiple heartbeats, labored breathing, the shuffle of feet on stone.
Careful, Asher warned. We don't know what's on the other side.
Blake's response was to shoulder the door open with enough force to tear it half off its hinges. We burst through into a corridor that looked like something from a medieval dungeon—rough stone walls, guttering torches that cast dancing shadows, and the overwhelming stench of fear and pain and blood.
No Kara scent here, Blake observed, his mental voice tight with frustration. This is the wrong level.
Not wrong, I corrected, my medical training cataloguing the scents automatically. Different. This is where Diana keeps her other prisoners. Kara was taken deeper.