"The Great One. Selene. She's who's after us."
Maddox's words co out flat and even, like he isn't talking about the scariest person in his life. My heart clenches further at how he doesn't even have the freedom to be a scared child.
Granted, he's what… fifteen? Fourteen? I'm sure he doesn't want to break down in front of strangers.
But he should be able to, if he wanted.
"Echo took care of her, I think. You should be safe now." She hadn't ntioned nas or any real details, but I'm assuming the sanguimancer Echo dealt with is the sa as the monster Maddox and the children are hiding from.
Asher gives a slight nod. "She did. I recall the na."
Maddox shakes his head and looks back at the sleeping children. "She'll be back. She's been around for ages. Older than a witch's ti—uh." His face goes pink. "Older than your grandparents, even. Blood witches don't die easy. And she's got minions. It isn't safe."
"But Echo said she killed her," I point out. "I thought—"
"Killing her body doesn't kill her magic. And she's not the only one. There are others, all over the world. They hunt kids like us. We might be the oldest ones still living."
"But why? Why would they hunt you?"
Maddox looks directly at , his eyes empty in a way that scares more than rage ever could. "Because we're batteries."
"Batteries?" I repeat blankly.
Asher shifts beside , cutting off the faintest rumble out of his chest.
"Sanguimancers feed on the energy of the living. Soulspliced energy is even better for 'em. That's what Rowan calls us—soulspliced. Aberrants. Our energy runs different. Stronger. More... conductive." He rubs his hands together, and shudders. "Normal shifters give them power, sure. But us? We're like their own personal nuclear reactors. They'll kill thousands to capture one of us."
My brain struggles to process the idea of young, defenseless children used as batteries. They're children. Even Brax took care of until I was an adult—whatever his reasoning might be.
But there were so in the pack…
Maybe they would have sided with this strange Selene.
"Most don't survive long. Blood witches will feed on every last drop if you let them."
"That's..." I can't find the right words. Horrific? Evil? Those seem inadequate.
Maddox shrugs, like this is just the facts of life and I should be used to it by now. But it's not. This is strange and bizarre and so beyond normal, and every part of aches to grab him and hug him and show him there's a better world out there. Even if he's taller than I am and has the faint hint of a mustache on his upper lip, all I can see is a young child, alone and unloved in this world.
"The irony is what they do creates more of us," he says, unusually talkative now that we're on the subject. I don't know if he wants to educate us or if he just needs to get it all off his chest. Asher remains quiet as he talks, letting him say as much as he wishes. I want to beg him to stop. To never speak of it again. I'd rather him live pretending none of this ever happened.
But it's his reality, so he continues, "Every ti they destroy one, the imbalance grows wider, and more co to fill the void. So they're making more batteries by draining them over and over. They just need to keep making babies, and more aberrants will pop out."
The cave suddenly feels colder. I wrap my arms around myself as my stomach twists into knots.
"That's what Fiddleback wanted us to be," Maddox adds, his voice now barely audible.
Asher grunts. "That explains…"
But he trails off and doesn't finish his thought.
My nails grip into my forearms. They might even draw blood. My entire body keeps trembling, and I can't make it stop. "What was Fiddleback, exactly? Aren't they the local pack?"
"Yeah. But they're not really a pack. They're just a breeding farm."
My mind flashes to livestock, to animals kept in pens, forced to reproduce for human consumption. But he's talking about people. About shifters. About children.
None of this can be possible, right? Who's evil enough for this kind of horror?
"The adults weren't worth much," he continues, eyes fixed on so distant point. "Old wolves were kept around to make babies. That's it. More stock."
"And the children?" I ask, though I already know the answer will haunt .
"Sorted." Maddox's fingers dig into his arms. "The ones with shifting anomalies, strange scents, flickers of power—they'd be sent away once they were two or so. They're lucky to make it to five, usually."
"Five?" My voice cracks. Five isn't nearly long enough. "Why only… five?"
"Best energy-to-lifespan ratio." His clinical tone makes it worse sohow. "Younger, and they're not strong enough yet. Older, and they start becoming individuals. Hard to control. Five is optimal."
Bile rises in my throat. "And 'elsewhere'? Where is that?"
"Don't know exactly." He shrugs one shoulder, looking at Asher when the man blows out a deep breath. "It's one hundred percent mortality rate. That's all I know."
The Lycan's energy beside feels like a thunderstorm, contained in a tiny bottle. A glass one, ready to shatter at any mont.
"Your parents..." I begin hesitantly. "Were they from—"
"Fiddleback? Yeah." Maddox nods. "My mom was one of rrick's favorites."
The way he says it—so detached, so matter-of-fact—breaks my heart. "Do you know her na?"
"No." He shrugs. "Just her face. Saw her once. Before."
"And your father?"
Maddox snorts. "Who knows? All the old wolves fuck around. Part of the program. rrick's the worst, though." His lip curls in disgust. "He sold his honor. He didn't want to be a pack alpha. He wanted more power than that."
I think of Alpha Keller, of how he cast aside the mont he learned I wasn't his biological daughter. I thought that was betrayal. But this—this systematic cruelty, this calculated evil—makes my own pain seem small in comparison.
"How many children?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
"Hundreds over the years." Maddox's eyes dart back to the alcove. "Most don't make it out."
"But you did," I say softly.
Maddox's face hardens. "Yeah."
"Are… Finn and Lily? And Pip? Are they all Fiddleback, too?"
He shakes his head. "Nah. They're not from the program. They're just from local families. That's why Rowan could get them out alive."
"Was it only pack, then? In the program?" If the other shifter families aren't involved…
But he shakes his head. "No. Any shifter they could grab. Sotis new families would move here without knowing, though. Or they'd bamboozle 'em. Humans, too. Sotis they survived. Sotis they didn't."
My trembling intensifies. "And the ones who survived... what happened to them?"
He ets my eyes, hollow and direct. "Pregnant."
Oh.
Of course.
That would… make sense. A horrible, awful sense.
Was Mom a product of sothing like this? Did Brax also…?
No. I would know if we had a breeding program sowhere in our pack, wouldn't I? I an, they can't hide it from everyone, right?
I don't know whether to cry or vomit. I do neither. I just sit there, hollowed out.
The silence stretches between us. Maddox doesn't seem inclined to fill it. He's said his piece, laid bare the horror that shaped his life with the detachnt of soone reciting historical facts. But he's fifteen.
When I was fifteen, I'd been dreaming about kissing Xander for the first ti. Silly adolescent dreams.
"How do you even know these things?" It cos out sowhere between accusation and plea. Because no child should know these things. No fifteen-year-old should talk about breeding programs and energy-to-lifespan ratios with such clinical distance.
Maddox scoffs. "You don't get to stay a kid when you're born like this."
As if childhood is a privilege we can revoke. An expiration date stamped on innocence.
Asher shifts beside , the tension in his body palpable. His face is carefully composed, but I can see the storm raging, can feel it in the air crackling around him. Sothing inside surges and twists, trying to reach out to him, but failing and falling short.
When he speaks, his voice is low and controlled. Calm, as if we hadn't listened to the horrors of a child too grown for his years. "It's late. Go get so sleep."
Maddox hesitates, then nods, pushing himself to his feet. He turns and heads toward the alcove, but pauses at the entrance. "Rowan's good people," he says quietly. "If you're wondering."
Knowing their past, it would be insanity to think otherwise.
He must be an angel, to sacrifice himself for these kids. To try and try again, despite so many failures.
My eyes burn.
Asher waits until Maddox is out of earshot before he turns to . Even in the dim light, I can see the weight of knowledge pressing down on him.
"Violet..." His voice is a whisper, his eyes too somber. He doesn't want the kids to hear. "The rescue mission. Wolf-Eye updated ."
It's not good news.
If it was good news, he wouldn't have sent Maddox away.
"What happened?"
I don't think I can take any more sadness today, but I straighten my back and take a deep breath, preparing for the emotional blow.
"They're all dead. Everyone in the cages. Everyone Echo found. All of them. Even the kids."
The air leaves my lungs in a slow, painful exhale. "All of them? But—"
"How many?" The question's hard to choke out.
"Too many."
I close my eyes, trying to block out the images his words conjure. It doesn't work. I see small bodies in cages. I see blood. I see vacant eyes staring at nothing.
"If we had known sooner… if we had found out earlier—"
"Don't." Asher's voice is firm. "That path leads nowhere good."
I bite my lip. Echo had forgotten about them. For how long? If she'd told us earlier, would we have been able to save them?
Is she okay, knowing they were alive before, and now they're not?
Is it okay to be angry with her for this?
Harsh lines of grief are etched into Asher's face. His hand rises, almost involuntarily, reaching toward . For a mont, I think he's going to touch my hair, offer so physical comfort, and I yearn to lean into him. But then he flinches. His hand falls to his side, fingers curling into a fist.
Right. No touching.
The small, aborted gesture of comfort makes everything worse. We can't even console each other without risking my health.
I've never felt more isolated.
My gaze drifts toward the alcove where the children sleep. Do Finn and Lily understand what they've been saved from? Does little Pip, with her ever-shifting features, have any concept of the fate that might have awaited her?
How many others like them never made it out? How many were consud by blood witches or syphoned for their energy until nothing remained?
"Thank you," I say suddenly, surprising myself.
Asher tilts his head, questioning.
"For destroying the Fiddleback Pack." The words feel strange in my mouth, but right. Just days ago, I'd seen him as nothing but a murderous monster. The Lycan King who slaughtered an entire pack without remorse. Now I understand.
Echo had called it pack justice.
"Thank you for stopping them."
It's not justice when there's no one left to save. It's just blood for blood—but the price had to be paid.
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