Bridget Winslow
When Truth Breaks Chains
The woman Rachel called Lila moves around the cabin, her lips moving in silent incantation. I watch, helpless, as invisible barriers spring up around me. The oppressive weight of containment settles over the house like a shroud.
I’m trapped. Caged.
The realization leaves me breathless. My fingers twitch, instinctively reaching for the familiar comfort of my magick, but there’s nothing there. Just a hollow emptiness where my power should be.
Bast stands nearby, his presence both a comfort and a torment. The new bond between us hums with an energy I don’t understand, tying me to him in ways I can’t begin to comprehend. Part of me wants to lean into that connection, to lose myself in the warmth and safety he represents. But I can’t. I won’t.
My sister’s face flashes in my mind—pale, scared, trapped in that cold cell back in Salem. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. I have to find a way out of here. I have to save her. Buthow? How can I possibly escape, get back to Salem, break her out, and then…what? Where would we go? What would we do?
TheMathairswould hunt us forever. They wanted Meredith Banfield dead and she’d been gone more than two decades. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to center myself, to find some scrap of clarity in the chaos of my thoughts.
“Bridget.” Rachel’s voice cuts through my spiraling panic. I open my eyes to find her watching me. “Why didn’t you know what your glowing eyes meant? About Kindreds?”
I laugh, the sound bitter and hollow even to my own ears. “There’s a lot I didn’t know, apparently.”
Rachel frowns, exchanging a glance with Lila. “But surely theMathairstaught you about—”
“TheMathairstaught me what they wanted me to know,” I snap, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “And apparently, it was the abridged edition.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. “All I knew—all I was ever told—was that having sex with a man would steal my magick for a few days. That male witches were dangerous and insane. And werewolves?”
I gesture my tied hands toward Bast, unable to meet his eyes. “Before today, I’d never even seen one. You’re not supposed to exist on this continent.”
I meet Lawrence’s glare—his hatred for me burns cold and sharp as a Salem winter. But I need answers more than I need his forgiveness. “They told us male witches kill witches and steal their magick. That you hear voices, that stolen power drives you mad until you become rabid, dangerous creatures that have to be put down.”
Shame scalds my cheeks as the memories surface—mothers weeping as they handed over their infant sons, my own silentacceptance of their grief. Lawrence’s jaw tightens, but there’s no madness in those eyes. Only a very human anger.
“How am I supposed to know what’s the truth and what’s a lie unless I’ve witnessed it myself?” I ask.
Lawrence’s expression softens, though wariness still shadows his eyes. “That’s where I’m being unfair to you. You wouldn’t know.” His voice gentles, as if explaining to a child who’s been badly misled. “TheMathairsrule through fear and ignorance, they have for centuries—it’s easier to control witches who are afraid of their own kind. And yes, as a male witch, I can steal power from other witches. And that stolen magick would eventually drive me mad because the ghosts of the witches I killed would haunt me. But we’re talking dozens of murders, years of corruption. Male witches are not immediately any more dangerous than females.”
I swallow back the bile creeping up into my throat.
“What about the werewolves?” Bast asks quietly. “What exactly did they tell you about us?”
“They said werewolves were created by ancient witches as guardians. That you were bound by blood magick to serve and protect.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “They said any claims of werewolf sightings in North America were just made-up stories. No wolves had ever been allowed to leave Europe.”
“And you believed them?” There’s no judgment in his tone, just curiosity.
“I believed everything they told me,” I admit, each word scraping my throat raw. “Why wouldn’t I?” My hands tremble and I clench them tight. “I lived apart from the real world for the first ten years of my life. I never saw another human being that wasn’t a witch. Never saw amanuntil that first trip into the town of Salem.”
My breath comes in sharp gasps. “They raised me, shaped me, loved me…” Hysteria edges into my voice. I press mypalms against my eyes, seeing my years of unquestioning loyalty through new light. “They are my family. But I am…a weapon,” I whisper at the end.
The entire room is silent.
Rachel waves her hands at herself and then at Bast. “Obviously it’s a lot to come to terms with in a very short time frame, but they lied about the wolves being here. And they lied about a lot of other things too. You’ve got decisions to make.”
“What if theyactuallydon’t know the wolves are here at all?” Lawrence says, rubbing his hand over his chin thoughtfully.
My phone—my leash to theMathairs—dangles between his fingers as he scrolls through it. Each swipe of his thumb makes my skin crawl. If they think I’ve turned on them, I’ll lose Brianna forever.
“Did you report seeing the wolves?” he asks.
“I didn’t. I only reported that Meredith was already dead.”
