Chapter 4: Into the Dark

The cave’s mouth yawned before me, a jagged maw of stone swallowing the last of the daylight. Thorne’s grip on my arm was a vise, his knife pricking my throat as he shoved me forward. My shoulder throbbed where the red-haired wolf had clawed me, blood soaking my jacket, but it was the heat in my chest that consumed me—a pulsing, wild thing that made my skin feel too tight, my senses too sharp. Isolde’s silhouette loomed ahead, her amber eyes glowing like embers in the cavern’s gloom. Behind us, Lucien’s roars faded, drowned by the howls of Isolde’s pack. I stumbled on the uneven ground, my mind reeling from Thorne’s words. Sister. My mother, a werewolf? It couldn’t be true, but the strange strength in my limbs, the way I’d shoved that wolf off me—it wasn’t human.

“Move faster,” Thorne growled, his breath hot against my ear. “Unless you want to meet the pack up close.”

“Let go of me,” I hissed, twisting in his grip. His gray eyes—eerily familiar—flashed with something like pain before hardening again.

“Not a chance, Evie,” he said, dragging me deeper into the cave. “You’re the key to breaking him.”

“Breaking who? Lucien?” I snapped, my voice echoing off the damp walls. “What do you want with us?”

He didn’t answer, just tightened his hold. Isolde’s voice cut through the darkness, smooth and venomous. “Bring her to the altar, Thorne. The moon’s rising.”

Altar? My stomach churned. The air grew colder, thick with the scent of moss and something metallic—blood, old and new. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing a cavern vast enough to hold a small army. At its center stood a stone slab, etched with swirling runes that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Chains dangled from its edges, silver glinting in the weak light filtering through cracks above. Isolde stood beside it, her golden hair cascading over a flowing black robe, her hands glowing with that same eerie energy I’d felt in the clearing.

“What is this?” I demanded, my voice steadier than I felt. That heat in my chest flared, urging me to fight, to run, but Thorne’s knife kept me still.

Isolde’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “A reckoning, human. Or whatever you are.” She stepped closer, her eyes raking over me like I was a specimen. “You’ve triggered the bond, tainting my Alpha. The Moonstone will fix that.”

“Moonstone?” I echoed, glancing at the altar. A fist-sized crystal sat at its center, glowing faintly blue, its surface etched with the same runes. It pulsed in time with the heat in my chest, and I swore I felt it call to me, like a whisper in my blood.

“Don’t play dumb,” Isolde snapped. “The bond is a curse. It weakens Lucien, weakens the packs. The Moonstone ritual will sever it—and you.”

“Sever it?” My heart pounded. Lucien’s words in the clinic echoed: You’ve bound us, body and soul. “You mean kill me.”

Isolde laughed, a sound that chilled my bones. “If only it were that simple. The ritual requires a life force. Yours, or his. Guess who I’d rather spare?”

Thorne shoved me toward the altar, the chains rattling as I stumbled. “Don’t make this harder, sister,” he muttered, his voice low, almost regretful.

“Stop calling me that!” I whirled, facing him. “You’re lying about my mother. I’m human. I’ve always been—”

“Are you?” Thorne cut me off, his gray eyes boring into mine. “Feel that fire in you? That’s not human. Our mother was a latent wolf, hidden from the packs. She abandoned me to them, but kept you. Why do you think you’re drawn to him?”

I shook my head, my thoughts spiraling. My mother—soft-spoken, always smelling of lavender, dead when I was ten—couldn’t have been… this. But the memories flickered: her late-night walks, her strange strength when she’d lift me as a child, the way she’d hum songs that sounded like howls. “You’re wrong,” I whispered, but doubt gnawed at me.

“Enough,” Isolde snapped, her hand glowing brighter as she gestured to the chains. “Bind her, Thorne. The moon’s nearly at its peak.”

Thorne hesitated, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second. “Isolde, maybe—”

“Do it!” she snarled, her voice reverberating with power. He flinched, then dragged me to the altar, snapping the silver chains around my wrists. They burned, searing my skin, and I gasped, the pain sharpening that inner heat. My nails dug into my palms, and I swore they felt harder, sharper.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said to Thorne, searching his face for the brother he claimed to be. “If we’re family, help me.”

His jaw tightened, but he looked away. “Family doesn’t mean loyalty. Not in this world.”

Isolde began chanting, her words ancient and guttural, the runes on the altar glowing brighter. The Moonstone pulsed faster, its light syncing with my heartbeat. That heat in my chest roared, and my vision flickered—colors too vivid, sounds too loud. I smelled Lucien’s blood, distant but unmistakable, and a primal urge surged: protect him.

“Lucien!” I screamed, yanking against the chains. The silver burned deeper, but my strength grew, the metal groaning. Isolde’s chant faltered, her eyes narrowing.

“She’s awakening,” she hissed, turning to Thorne. “You said she was dormant!”

“She was!” Thorne snapped, his knife twitching in his hand. “Her blood shouldn’t—”

A roar shook the cavern, and Lucien burst through the entrance, half-shifted, claws extended, fur rippling over his arms. Blood matted his chest, my stitches torn, but his silver eyes burned with fury. Isolde’s pack lunged, but he was a force of nature, slashing through them with lethal precision. “Evie!” he bellowed, his voice raw.

“Lucien!” I strained against the chains, the heat in me surging. My fingers tingled, nails lengthening, and a growl—my growl—rumbled in my throat. What was happening?

Isolde snarled, her hands blazing as she hurled a bolt of energy at Lucien. He dodged, but it grazed his shoulder, singeing fur. “You can’t have her!” she screamed, resuming her chant, the Moonstone glowing blindingly now.

Thorne grabbed my arm, his knife at my throat again. “Stay still, or I—”

I didn’t think. I twisted, my newfound strength snapping the chain on one wrist. My hand shot out, claws—claws—raking Thorne’s arm. He yelped, dropping the knife, and I kicked it away, my heart pounding with fear and exhilaration. “I’m not your pawn,” I growled, the sound alien in my throat.

Lucien reached us, slamming Thorne against the wall. “Don’t touch her!” he roared, but Isolde’s magic flared again, a wave of force knocking him to his knees. The Moonstone’s light pulsed faster, the air crackling with power.

“Stop!” I shouted, tearing the other chain free, my skin blistering but my strength holding. I lunged for the Moonstone, driven by instinct. My hand closed around it, and pain seared through me, like grabbing a live wire. The heat in my chest exploded, my vision whitening, and I heard Isolde scream as the stone’s light dimmed.

When my sight cleared, I was on my knees, the Moonstone dark in my hand. Lucien was beside me, bloodied but alive, his hand on my shoulder. Thorne lay crumpled, groaning, and Isolde stared, her face pale with rage. “You’ve ruined it,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “The stone… it’s bound to you now.”

“What?” I gasped, the stone heavy in my hand, its warmth syncing with that fire inside me.

Lucien pulled me to my feet, his eyes wide. “Evie, you’re… you’re not just human.”

Before I could process, the cavern shook, rocks tumbling from the ceiling. Isolde’s pack howled, regrouping, and she pointed at us, her eyes blazing. “Kill them both!”

Lucien shoved me toward a side tunnel. “Run!” he growled, but the ground cracked beneath us, a chasm opening as the cavern began to collapse. The Moonstone burned in my hand, and a new howl—mine—tore from my throat as the world fell apart.