“I can’t feel her.” The words taste like ash and blood on my tongue. “The bond—they broke it. They fucking broke it.”Or she’s dead. No. Not that. It can’t be that. It would’ve felt different.My fingers dig deeper into my chest, nails breaking skin as I try to claw my way to where she should be.
“Look at me.” Lawrence’s grip tightens until it’s almost painful. Almost enough to distract from the agony inside. “Beyond the bond. The tether. Can you still feel her magick?”
I want to rip his hand away. Want to shift and run until I find her or die trying. Want to tear into something—anything—to make this pain stop. But something in Lawrence’s voice cuts through the madness. Makes me freeze.
“The kindred tether,” he repeats, shaking me slightly. “Focus. Push past the broken bond. Find the magick you share. They may not have thought about the tether spell yet.”
I close my eyes, choking on grief that threatens to drown me. How can I focus when half my soul is missing? But I try. Force myself to reach past the screaming emptiness where our bond used to live. Past the hollow ache that pulses with each heartbeat.
There.
So faint I almost miss it beneath the roar of loss. A whisper of power that isn’t mine. That familiar scent signature that belongs only to her. The tether still holds.
“She’s alive.” The words come out raw, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. My hands shake as I hold up my wrists, showing Lawrence the Celtic knots that were emerald green this morning. Now they’re black as pitch. Dead. The physical proof of what they’ve done to us. “She’s alive, but they…they…”
I can’t finish. Can’t put into words the violation of what they’ve done. How they reached inside us and broke something that was supposed to be forever.
“TheMathairs.” Lawrence’s voice carries decades of carefully banked rage. “Breaking your bond would be their first move. Can’t have one of theirs connected to a wolf. Can’t let her feel anything beyond what they want her to feel.”
A growl builds in my chest, and this time I don’t fight it. “I’m going to kill them. Every last one of them. Going to tear their fucking Court apart stone by stone.”
“You’ll have to wait your turn.” Lawrence’s smile is all teeth. No humor reaches his eyes. Just pure, cold hatred. “Some of us have been waiting decades for this.”
I push to my feet, the world tilting dangerously before steadying. For the first time, I notice the line of vehicles stopped behind us. Pack members and witches mill anxiously between the cars, watching. Waiting. Through my grief, I feel the weight of their concern. Their rage on my behalf.
Finn strides forward, his face tight with worry. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, claws threatening to emerge. “My bond with Emma is still intact.” His voice shakes. “They haven’t—they haven’t touched her yet. But we have to move. Now.”
He’s right. Every second we waste is another second they have to hurt both of them. To break Bridget. Like they tried to break her sister. Like they broke our bond.
My wolf surges forward, and I welcome the fury. Let it fill the hollow spaces where our bond used to live. Let it burn away everything but the need to reach her. To save her. To make them pay.
They think we’re monsters? I’ll show them a monster.
“Get in the cars.” The words come out in a growl. My hands are steady as I climb back behind the wheel. The pain isn’t gone—won’t ever be gone until I have her back—but now it has purpose. Direction. “They won’t expect us this quickly. Won’t expect your male witches.” I look at Lawrence. “Won’t expect any of this.”
“No.” His eyes gleam with something ancient and deadly. “They won’t.”
The engine roars to life under my hands. In the rearview mirror, I watch our caravan fall back into formation. Wolves and witches united by a common enemy. By shared pain. Some of these people have never left their mountain homes, but here they are, racing across the country to tear down the evils Salem Court hides.
For Emma. For Bridget. For everyone theMathairshave wronged over the years.
“The bond.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “Will they—will they do the same to Finn and Emma?”
Lawrence shifts in the passenger seat, his massive frame tense. “They’ll likely try. But Emma carries Meredith’s magick. And that baby…” He trails off, something like hope flickering across his face. “My wife was always ten steps ahead of them. Even in death, she’s protecting our daughter.”
“What about—” I swallow hard, grip tightening on the wheel. “What about Bridget? What else will they do to her?”
“Don’t.” Liam’s voice cuts in from the back seat. “Don’t torture yourself with maybes. Focus on getting there.”
He’s right, but the hollow space in my chest aches. Without our bond, I can’t feel what they’re doing to her. Can’t send her strength or comfort. Can’t let her know we’re coming. The tether pulses weakly—proof she’s alive, but nothing more. I wish I could get more. Some emotion. Anything.
“TheMathairswill be focused on punishment.” Rachel’s words are careful, measured. “They’ll want to make an example of her. But they won’t kill her. Not right away. At least that’s my best guess from what Meredith shared about them over the years.”
The wolf inside me paces, desperate to run, to fight, to tear into the ones hurting our mate.
“They’ll try to break her first. Remake her into what they want. But Bridget is stronger than they know.” Rachel leans forward, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “She chose you. Chose us. That kind of strength doesn’t break easily.”
“They’ve had plenty of practice.” Lawrence’s voice carries the weight of old grief. “Twenty years ago, they nearly destroyed Meredith. Would have, if she hadn’t run. Would have killed her if they’d found us.”
