Camilla
The taste hits before the liquid even touches my throat. Bitter, sharp—like tal scraped raw across stone. My stomach lurches, and for one wild second, I think I might vomit it back up and ruin everything.
But I force it down, ignoring the searing burn that spreads like wildfire through my chest.
I don’t feel anything at first, before I feel everything at once. Heat, cold, fire, rain, nausea, hunger, sickness, ache.
The witch shoves another vial between my hands, while forcing the powder into my mouth. "Drink this, quick! It’s an antidote––it should help sohow! Maybe it will weaken the aconite, too!"
I do as I’m told, mixing the powder and liquid inside my mouth before I swallow it too. The taste is less disgusting than blood, but I have to make another effort to keep everything down.
When my body’s struggle sees ot have subsided, the witch lets out a small, strangled gasp, clutching her robes as if she’s the one poisoned, not .
"Now," she whispers, her hands trembling violently as she throws the vial on the floor, watching it shatter. "Now you must attack ."
I grit my teeth. The idea of hurting her makes my skin crawl. She’s terrified, her wrinkled face wet with sweat and tears, but she’s the only one who’s risked anything to help .
Still, there’s no choice. We both know it.
"Forgive ," I mutter under my breath before I lunge. My broken nails rake across her sleeve, tearing the fabric and grazing her arm just enough to draw blood. She yelps and stumbles back, collapsing to the floor with a dramatic cry. I grit my teeth against the guilt gnawing at , but the scene is convincing enough.
I dig my fingers into her hair, waiting for soone to finally co and witness this act. The woman keeps screaming and tossing, exhausting her own body for a better effect.
The guards finally burst in, their heavy boots thundering against the stone floor. They take one look at the broken glass vials, the blood sared across the witch’s robe, and my wild, fever-bright eyes, and they buy it.
"She drank it," the witch wails, cradling her arm. "I tried to stop her, but she attacked —look! She drank the girl’s blood! I was taking it to the lab! What if she dies?!"
The guards curse, and before I can react, two of them seize by the arms. Cold tal bites into my wrists as restraints snap shut, and the familiar weight of their hands on my collar makes my stomach clench. But then—click. The collar disengages with a soft hum, its electric leash severed.
For the first ti in weeks, the pressure choking my body eases.
I don’t let the relief show. Instead, I sag against the restraints, feigning weakness. They buy that too. Fucking idiots.
"Take her to the lab," one orders.
"Alpha Damien needs to see this!"
They wheel the bed out of the room, my body slumped across it like a corpse. My mind, however, is racing. I count their footsteps, morize the turns of the corridors, strain my ears for the faint creak of hidden passages. I know this place. I’ve studied it in scraps, in half-rembered flashes of freedom before they locked down.
When we hit the passage between levels, I no longer wait.
With a burst of strength I didn’t know I had left, I jerk upright, ripping my arm free from one guard’s grip. Pain sears through my muscles, but adrenaline drives on.
I slam my elbow into his jaw, sending him staggering back. The second guard shouts, trying to pin down, but I twist, teeth bared, and sink them into the at of his shoulder. He screams, dropping the key ring that jingles at his belt.
Perfect.
I snatch it up, spinning to deliver a wild kick that sends the wheelbed crashing into the wall. Both guards collapse, groaning, dazed—but not dead. If only I could afford wasting my strength... They should consider themselves lucky.
Then, I run.
My bare feet slap against the stone as I sprint through the first exit I can find. But the commotion has already spread—shouts echo down the hall, and the thunder of approaching boots rattles the air.
The next wave of guards rounds the corner, and they don’t hesitate. One lunges for with a silver baton. I duck, the weapon grazing my cheek and leaving a sizzling burn. Pain lances across my skin, but I ignore it, slamming my fist into his gut. Another swings at from behind; I whirl, claws extended, and rake across his arm, sending blood splattering.
But I’m weak. Too weak. I’m already losing. Every movent feels like dragging my body through thick mud. There is stomach acid in my mouth from the swallowed poison. My lungs burn, my vision swims, and for every guard I take down, two more seem to appear.
I’m losing. I’m going to fucking lose.
"No," I snarl, blood filling my mouth. "No, I don’t think so. Fucking no."
They force to the ground, three of them pinning down. Silver shackles snap against my wrists again, searing my skin. My very soul howls inside , a desperate, furious cry that rattles my bones.
And then—it happens. I throw up. I purge everything. Every fucking thing.
A heat erupts from deep in my core, spreading through my veins like fire. My body convulses, bones cracking, skin tearing, muscles stretching. The guards reel back in horror as my jaw elongates, fur bursts across my body, and a howl tears from my throat—louder, deeper, more primal than anything they’ve heard before.
I stand before them—not just a wolf. Thealpha wolf. Because I am not just sobody’s Luna. I am not just sobody’s mate. I am . I am a fucking alpha wolf.
Their eyes widen, terror stark on their faces. It paralyzes them. They hesitate, and that’s all I need.
I pounce, ripping free of the chains like they were paper. My claws slash through the first man’s throat, hot blood spraying across the stone. The others scream, too stunned to even think about shifting. They swing weapons wildly, as if they’re fighting in the dark now, but I dodge, rip, and tear, my wolf form unstoppable even in its weakness.
I fight like a storm unleashed, every strike driven by weeks of agony and rage. My body is battered, my fur matted with blood—so mine, most not—but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. And I won’t.
When the last guard falls, the hall is silent except for my ragged breaths. My legs tremble beneath , my vision darkens at the edges, but I force myself onward.
Up. I need to get up. To the surface. To freedom.
I stagger through winding stairwells and crumbling passages, following the faintest hints of fresh air. Each step is agony, but I don’t care. At last, I burst above ground, the night sky spilling over like salvation.
The moon hangs full and bright, silver light washing across the earth. My heart aches at the sight of it, a silent prayer to the Goddess spilling from my soul. Please. Just a little further. Give the strength to make it to the border.
I run. My paws pound the earth, muscles screaming along with the sirens, lungs tearing with every breath. Behind , shouts and growls rise again—more n, more wolves, more chains—but I don’t look back. I can’t.
The scent of the border drifts closer, sweet as freedom. Just a little more. Just a little—
Bang!
The sound tears the night apart. A white-hot explosion detonates in my side, ripping through flesh and searing bone. I stumble, choking on a howl of agony. The world tilts, my vision blurs even more, and the acrid stench of silver burns my nose.
A silver bullet.
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