TOBIAS

The surface beneath me dips as I sit up, and something soft slides across my legs. I’m stunned to discover I’m on a bed—an actual bed, with thick pillows and warm blankets and everything. Am I dreaming? This has to be a dream. The coven would never let me use one of their private rooms. Hell, they’ve barely let me off the stage, except to use the bathroom or shower.

A tall glass of water and two granola bars wrapped in wax paper sit on the nightstand. I unwrap the first bar quickly, my stomach growling loud enough for someone to hear. The thick, grainy texture clings to the roof of my mouth, making it difficult to chew, but the taste is like nothing I’ve ever had before. Full of sweet honey, nuts, and tiny pieces of chocolate. I can’t even remember the last time I had chocolate. The food is so dense that I almost can’t finish the second bar, but I force it down anyway, not knowing when my next meal will come.

Bright light filters in through a tall curtained window, and I glimpse blue sky in the opening. It makes my breath catch. I haven’t seen the outside of the club in weeks. I don’t even know. If I can open the window, I might be able to climb out.

Scrambling off the bed, I shiver when my toes touch the cold wood floor, and goosebumps race over my skin. The mesh top and reflective briefs I’m wearing provide no warmth—they never have. They give no comfort or privacy either, meant to draw attention when I dance.

Snagging a blanket from the bed, I pull it tight around my shoulders before going to the window. As soon as I pull the curtain aside, I’m blinded by a brilliant white light. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, then a few moments more to register what I’m seeing.

Where the bustling city streets of Prodigy should be lies a vast snow-covered lawn surrounded by trees. What the hell?

I rub my eyes. This has to be a dream. Or a nightmare.

Multiple tracks trail toward the trees. So I’m not alone, then. Am I still with the coven? If so, where are we?

I try the latch on the window, but it’s too difficult to move. Just as well. In these clothes, I’d freeze before I made it ten feet. But I need to get out. I need to get away from these monsters.

Fisting my hands, I rush to the door to try that too. Of course, it’s locked. Banging on the door, I’m met with only silence. My heart plummets. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.

I turn around and scan the room for something, anything, I can use to defend myself, but the room is bare. No lamps, no metal frames. There isn’t even a hanger in the closet. It’s like no one has lived here.

I yank open every drawer—nightstand, dresser. All empty. A latch on the side secures the drawers in place, preventing them from being removed or disassembled. The dresser is on peg legs. If I can kick one free, I can use it as a bat.

A terribly short bat, but a bat nonetheless.

When I try to move the dresser, it doesn’t budge. Someone bolted it to the wall. Dammit.

A heavy wooden chair sits next to the bed, looking ancient yet well-built. Too heavy for me to throw. With a grunt, I lay it on its side and kick the center rung with all my strength. I try again and again until I hear the first split of wood. Just as I raise my foot to try one more time, a noise echoes from the other side of the door.

I whirl around, expecting someone to enter the room, but the doorknob doesn’t move. Shadows dance across the gap below the door as footsteps rush by.

“Sage, Forest needs you downstairs.” The male voice is vaguely familiar. Like I’ve heard it in a dream.

“Yeah, I’m coming. Have you seen Rowen? He’s not in his room.”

“He went for a run earlier, so he’s probably still with Neal and Taren.”

They pause outside the door, talking too low for me to hear. As quietly as I can, I run across the room and press my ear to the door, heart pounding wildly.

“…checked on the human recently?” one of them says, his voice deeper.

“An hour ago. He’s still asleep.”

“Should we give him another tonic?”

“No, no more.”

“So he’ll be up soon then?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

Tonic? What are they talking about?

I step back as a memory hits me—hazy but there. A man visited me in this room. No, not one man—two. One was tall with broad shoulders, and the other was much smaller with glowing blue palms. I didn’t recognize them, and they didn’t have the same dark eyes as the vampires.

The smaller one offered me a mug of greenish-looking tea, and when I refused, the larger man held me down and forced me to drink it. It tingled down my throat and made me sleepy. I’d fought him until I blacked out.

But more than their actions are their faces. I remember them so clearly. The guilt in their eyes and the pleading in their voice. It had been so at odds with how they were treating me.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you need to drink this. It’s for your own good,” the larger guy said. I’d kicked him in the balls, but he didn’t let go.

I wipe my lips, recalling the strange drink. When I was six, I crashed my bike, and my mom’s friend gave me a healing tonic. It had tingled the same way. Did they… heal me then? That doesn’t make sense. Why would the coven heal me when they caused the pain to begin with?

I jump when I hear their voices again. “I’m nervous about him being here.”

“It would be worse for him to be out there with them. At least here, he has a chance.”

“But we don’t know him, Sage. We don’t know what they wanted him for. He could be another pawn in Foxx’s fucked-up game.”

My heart hammers at that name.

A beat of silence before the other man says, “Either way, he’s a victim, and we need to help.”

“I know. I just…”

Their footsteps retreat before I hear the end of that sentence.

Foxx? Victim?

At least here, he has a chance.

My stomach twists, attention falling to my wrists. For so long, I’ve lived with third-degree burns and deep cuts from the shackles. They’d hurt me whenever I tried to pull my hands through. Worse, the coven had laughed at my pain, tugging at the magic-infused chains and using them against me. I had no choice but to dance or get fresh burns.

So why now? After everything the coven has done to me, why would they heal me now?

Unless they didn’t.

Those men talked as if they worked against Foxx. In fact, they seemed angry with him. But then, who did they work for? Did Foxx finally sell me off? He’d threatened to for so long, but Rip would never allow it.

Fresh tears well in my eyes as I touch my shoulder again. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Even if the shackles are gone, I’m still a prisoner. I’ll always be a prisoner as long as I carry his brand.

A howl outside the window pulls me to the other side of the room, and I shield my eyes before tugging the curtain aside. Three large wolves emerge from the trees, moving like shadows over the snowy ground. I take an instinctive step back, fear lancing through my system.

Except they aren’t rushing forward like they’re going to attack. They aren’t even running. They’re walking, strolling almost, with a casual stride. The two on the right nudge each other playfully, nipping at each other’s ears.

Something about them is familiar. Their confident gait, their unnatural height. Even their dark fur. Have I seen them before?

I jolt as another memory resurfaces. The fire. The pack that broke into The Iris… wolves everywhere, flames everywhere. So many screams and so much death. The details are fuzzy, but could they be the same wolves?

If so, how did I end up here with them?

Just then, the largest wolf, a brilliant dark red one with black-tipped ears, looks up at my window. Panic swells in my chest, and I let the curtain fall. My breath comes out in quick pants. It’s definitely them. I saw that wolf kill a vampire right in front of me at the club.
Fuck.

How did I go from being chained in a vampire club to being locked in a room in a shifter pack house? And how do I get out?