61: Emma

I woke to darkness and the taste of copper in my mouth. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, a dull percussion that seemed to echo in the cold, damp air around me. As consciousness seeped back, I became aware of the bite of metal against my wrists and ankles—chains, heavy and unyielding. The realization slithered through my foggy mind: I was restrained, captive. A prisoner. Memory hovered just beyond reach, fragmentary and slippery, but instinct told me to remain still, to assess before revealing I was awake.

The room smelled of earth and mildew, with undertones of something chemical that stung my nostrils. A basement, my mind supplied. The floor beneath the chair I was bound to was concrete, uneven and moisture-slick. The air hung heavy, still, suggesting we were underground with little ventilation. My werewolf senses, dulled though they were, picked up traces of rodents, old wood, and the metallic scent of rusted pipes.

I drew a careful breath, testing the limits of my movement. The chains around my wrists allowed perhaps two inches of play, enough to flex my fingers but nothing more. My ankles were similarly restrained, bound to the legs of what felt like a wooden chair. It creaked as I shifted my weight, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet space.

The darkness wasn't complete. A faint glow seeped from somewhere to my left—a small window, perhaps, or light bleeding under a door. As my eyes adjusted, shapes emerged from the gloom: the hulking silhouette of what might be a furnace, shelving along one wall, the suggestion of stairs climbing upward in the far corner.

I flexed my muscles systematically, cataloging the damage. My shoulders ached from being pulled backward, wrists raw where the cuffs had chafed them. The back of my head throbbed where—

The memory crashed into me like a physical blow. Benjamin Thorne. He’d ambushed me in the bath.

"You bastard," I whispered, the words scraping past my dry throat.

How long had I been here? Hours? Days? A tremor ran through me, not entirely from the cold. Theo would be looking for me. Elijah too. The thought of my brother and my mate—my true mate—searching while I sat helpless sent a surge of frustrated rage through me.

Mate. The word rippled through me with meaning, warmth, connection. Theo. In just days, he had become essential to me in ways I couldn't have imagined. We'd recognized each other, acknowledged the bond between us just last night. The memory of his touch, his scent, the way his amber eyes had held mine as we'd accepted what we were to each other—it burned in me like a flame.

I closed my eyes and reached inward, seeking Artemis. My wolf had been with me through everything, my strength, my companion. I called to her in the space between heartbeats, in the quiet place where we met.

Nothing.

I tried again, pressing against the strange emptiness where her presence should be. It was like pushing against a wall of cotton—yielding slightly but impenetrable. And then I felt her, distant but there, hurling herself against whatever barrier separated us. Each impact grew weaker than the last, her energy flagging.

‘Artemis,’ I called silently. ‘Save your strength. We'll find another way.’

The battering continued, though less frantically. I could feel her exhaustion, her fear. Whatever drug they'd used, it was designed specifically to suppress the wolf. The realization chilled me more than the damp cold of the basement.

"Ahh, there you are, little mate. I'm so glad you're awake."

The voice cut through my concentration like a serrated blade, a sound I'd hoped never to hear again. I lifted my head slowly, muscles tensing as I met Benjamin Thorne's eyes.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, tall and imposing in an expensive charcoal suit that seemed obscenely out of place in the dingy basement. His silver-grey eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he observed my bound form, lips curved in what might have passed for a pleasant smile if not for the coldness behind it.

"What the hell are you playing at, Benjamin?" I kept my voice low, controlled despite the fury building inside me. "Why are you doing this?"

He stepped closer, shoes clicking on the concrete. "Playing? This is no game, Emma. This is reclaiming what's mine."

Movement behind him drew my attention. Five figures descended the stairs, their features becoming clearer as they approached. I recognized them all, and the knowledge sent ice through my veins.

Minister Stavros came first, his military bearing unmistakable even in the half-light. His hawk-like face bore its usual expression of disdain, heightened now as he looked at me. Behind him was Minister Bennett. His eyes wouldn't meet mine, focusing instead on some point over my head.

Minister Krea followed, the only female among them, her sleek form moving with predatory grace. The elderly Lord Cassius shuffled after her, his frail appearance belied by the sharp intelligence in his rheumy eyes. Last came Michael Barker, an alpha whose pack held territories adjacent to Benjamin's. His loyalties to the Silver Crescent Pack were well-known.

"A coup," I said, the pieces clicking into place. "How original."

Benjamin's hand moved faster than I could track, gripping my chin with bruising force. "Watch your tongue. You're in no position to be clever."

I wrenched my face away, ignoring the pain. "And you're in no position to touch me. I'm not your mate. I never was."

His nostrils flared, anger flashing across his features before he schooled them back to artificial pleasantness. "We have a difference of opinion there. One that will be resolved shortly. You're an alpha female, after all. You'll give me the most powerful pups. And these lovely Lycans behind me," he gestured to his companions, "cannot abide by the King being bound to a wolf."

The way he said 'wolf' made my teeth clench.

"You've signed your own death warrant, Benjamin," I said, looking past him to the others. "Do you really think you can get away with this? Elijah will tear you apart when he finds out. And Theo—" I couldn't finish, the thought of what my mate would do to these conspirators too violent even for words.

Minister Krea shrugged, an elegant motion that belied the gravity of what they were doing. "It'll be too easy. Benjamin will mark you again, which will leave the King in awful pain as your bond breaks. He will then attack whoever he thinks is at fault for this," she smiled thinly, "at which point he will be determined unfit to rule, and a replacement will have to be found."

The cold calculation in her voice made my stomach turn. "Who are you proposing," I asked, though I already suspected the answer, "because Chris won't stand for this either, and he's currently next in line."

"Minister Stavros, of course," she replied, as if it were obvious.

Stavros straightened at the mention of his name, chest puffing slightly. His distaste for werewolves was legendary, his views on female leadership equally archaic. If he took the throne, generations of progress would be undone overnight.

I shook my head, denial and disgust warring for prominence—then froze as something else entirely washed through me. Anger. Not my own, but Theo's, burning hot and bright through our bond. The mating was new, but already the connection between us ran deep. I could feel his rage, his fear for me, the desperate edge to his emotions.

I closed my eyes, focusing on that tenuous connection. It was like trying to thread a needle in the dark, but I pushed everything I could through the bond: the cold of the concrete floor against my feet, the damp heaviness of the air, the smell of earth and mildew, the distant hum of a furnace, the fatigue weighing my limbs. Most of all, I sent my fear—not to frighten him, but to help him find me.

‘Basement,’ I thought desperately. ‘I'm in a basement somewhere.’

The effort left me dizzy, but I felt the bond between us strengthen momentarily, his determination flowing back to me like a warm current.

I needed more help. Elijah. My brother would be searching too. I reached for the pack bond, the connection that had been part of me since birth—

Pain lanced through my skull, white-hot and blinding. I couldn't stop the gasp that escaped me, my body jerking against the restraints.