Chapter 57

Ariana left the compound at 4:17 a.m.

She knew because she had stared at the digital clock on the microwave in the lodge kitchen until the numbers burned into her retinas.

Eric was still asleep in their room, one arm flung over the empty side of the bed where she should’ve been.

She had stood in the doorway for a full minute, memorizing the way his dark hair stuck up at the back, the soft snore he’d deny if she ever teased him about it.

Then she closed the door without a sound and walked down the back stairs, her boots in hand until she got to the gravel.

The cold was a living thing.

It got to her through her hoodie, it even slipped under the collar of her flannel, and settled in her bones like it planned to stay.

Frost shined on the windshield of the old Tacoma parked by the garage, she didn’t bother scraping it.

The truck stayed dark.

She walked.

The woods swallowed her within fifty yards.

No headlamp.

She had learned long ago that light was a giveaway.

Instead she moved by feel, the crunching sound of pine needles under rubber soles, the occasional slap of a low branch, the faint metallic taste of blood when she bit the inside of her cheek to stay alert.

Her backpack was light, she had packed just one liter of water in a dented Nalgene, two protein bars she would never eat, a roll of duct tape, zip ties, and the small glass vial of wolfsbane wrapped in a sock so it wouldn’t break.

The dagger was already strapped to her thigh, the sheath was already soft from years of use.

She had sharpened it on the whetstone in the garage until the edge could split a strand of hair in two.

She followed the deer trail that went just right below the east fence line.

The pack had cut it years ago for patrols, but it was overgrown now, brambles snagging her cargo pants, thorns drawing thin lines of blood she didn’t feel.

Every twenty steps she paused, listened.

Owls hooting, the creak of trees and leaves dancing as the wind blew and her own heartbeat.

Nothing else.

Good.

A second note from Marcus had been waiting exactly where she had left it yesterday, a few parts of the notes were still nailed to the big oak at the fork, a scrap of yellow legal paper folded twice and sealed with a strip of duct tape.

She grabbed it and read the contents of the note.

“Tyler at the mill tonight.
Eastern ridge.
3 goons + Adele.
Come alone or don’t come- M”

No pleasantries.

Marcus didn’t do pleasantries.

She had smuggled him out of Tyler’s territory four years ago in the false bottom of a produce truck, and he still owed her.

This was payment.

She burned the note with a Bic lighter she kept in her pocket, watching the paper curl and blacken, then ground the ashes under her boot.

Evidence gone.

The memory hit her halfway to the ridge, the night she had killed the guard.

He had been twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, drunk on cheap whiskey and passed out with his keys on a hook by the door.

She had taken the hunting knife from his belt, pressed it
to his throat, and whispered, “Sorry,” before she sliced.

The sound he made, as he fought for his life, it still
woke her some nights.

She had been nineteen. Tyler had laughed when he found the body, saying she’d finally shown some spine.

Then he had locked her in the root cellar for three days with no food.

She shook it off.

Focus.

The road got rougher.

The trail came to a rocky path, frosty and treacherous.

She used her hands in places, her fingers aching as they gripped cold stone.

At the top she quickly bent down and hid behind a fallen log and pulled out the binoculars, cheap ones from the surplus store, but they worked.

The mill was still there like yesterday, she was more prepared today, and she was thinking even clearly.

A single lantern glowed inside, throwing orange light through gaps in the boards.

She counted the shadows through the window, she recognized Tyler’s shadow, tall, lean, and walking about like a caged wolf, she could see Adele, her arms crossed, as she talked to Tyler.

Two muscle big guys, one with a neck tattoo she recognized from Tyler’s inner circle.

A fifth shadow near the back, she didn’t recognize, maybe a lookout.

Five total.

Worse than Marcus said.

She looked around the perimeter.

One sentry on the east side, smoking a cigarette, rifle slung loose.

Another on the west, resting against a rusted silo, scrolling on a phone.

Sloppy.

Tyler always got cocky when he thought he was safe.

Ariana kept the binoculars away and started the descent, moving parallel to the ridge to stay out of sight.

The plan was simple on paper: slip in through the loose panel at the back, the same one she’d used to steal antibiotics when Tyler’s men had the flu, get close enough to coat the dagger in wolfsbane, and wait for Tyler to turn his back.

One cut to the neck vein and he would be dead in ninety seconds.

The rest she would improvise.

The panel was still there, old but intact.

She put her fingers under the edge and pulled.

The wood groaned.

She froze, counted to ten.

No alarm.

She slipped through the gap sideways, her backpack scraping the wood, she paused and let the board settle back into place.

Inside smelled like rotted flesh and old grain.

It was dark but sunlight leaked through holes in the roof, striping the floor in a golden glow.

Broken milling machines were everywhere, with its conveyor belts frozen mid-swing, chains dangling like nooses.

She moved in a bending position, her dagger out, the vial in her left hand.

The voices were clearer now.

Tyler: “…convoy leaves at dawn. Three trucks, two guards each. We hit the lead vehicle, flip it, burn the rest. their new alpha will fold when his people start starving.”

Adele: “And the girl? Clara?”

Tyler laughed, she recognized that soft, ugly laughter.

“Let her rot. She’s moon-touched. Useless.” He whispered.

Ariana’s stomach twisted.

They were talking about Clara, Liam’s mate.

She crawled closer, using a rusted board for cover.

Ten feet away.

Eight.

She could see the scar on Tyler’s jaw now, the one she’d given him on one of the nights she had tried to escape.

It had healed and looked crooked.

She unscrewed the wolfsbane vial with her teeth, spat the cap into her palm.

The liquid inside was dark, and smelled terribly, it had a faint smell of sour alcohol and death.

One drop on the blade and it would soak within seconds.

She tilted the vial.

Just then, her boot caught a loose chain.

The clink was soft, but in the silence of the room it rang like a bell.

Tyler’s head immediately snapped up, he turned in the direction.

“Search it.” He shouted.

The two goons moved fast, their blades out.

Ariana pressed herself flat against the hopper, breathing silently.

Adele paused, her eyes turning red as she began to sniff the air.

Could she smell the wolf’s bane?

Ariana’s mind raced, what could she do?
Throw the wolfsbane? create chaos? maybe take one out before they close in.

But the vial was glass; one wrong move and it shattered uselessly.

She moved back, just then her leg hit a rotten floorboard.

The sound was deafening.

Tyler paused and began to smile, a slow, predatory smile.

“Come out, little bird. I can smell your fear.” He whispered.

Her legs moved before her brain caught up.

She stepped into the light, her hood falling back, her hair falling loose.

Tyler paused, his eyes slowly lit up.

“Ariana.” He said.

“You came back.” He whispered, smiling.

“I knew you’d come back.” He added and turned to Adele.

“Didn’t I tell you she’d come back.” He said and smiled.

Ariana slowly raised the dagger, her voice steady even as her insides shook.

“This ends tonight.”

He laughed, the sound disturbing her nerves.

“You’re here to kill me?” He whispered and looked at the knife.

“You must have lost your mind, do you think one knife changes anything? You’re still the same broken thing I threw away.” He whispered and smiled.

The words hit harder than she expected, but she didn’t flinch.

“I’m the thing that’s going to watch you die.” She whispered.

Adele shifted, hand on her own blade.

The goons closed in, forming a loose semicircle around her.

Ariana could hear her heartbeat in her own ears.

She had seconds.

The wolfsbane vial was still in her left hand, with the cap off.

One flick and it would fly through the air.

She just needed them closer.

Tyler took a step forward, his smile getting wider.

“Let’s see just how much those crescent bastards have corrupted you.” He whispered.

She smiled back, a small and evil smile.

“More than enough.” She whispered.

Just then one of the men outside shouted, something about movement on the ridge.

Tyler’s head turned a fraction.

Ariana moved.

She flicked the vial.

The wolfsbane flew out of the vial, splattering across Tyler’s chest and neck.

He roared in pain, clawing at the burning liquid.

The goons jumped forward.

Ariana ducked under the first swing, drove her dagger into the second man’s thigh, twisted, and pulled it free.

Warm blood sprayed her face.

Adele rushed towards her, swinging her blade, aiming for Ariana’s heart, Ariana ducked, the metal ringing, the impact making her wrist vibrate.

She kicked out Adele’s knee, she heard the crack, but Adele only hissed, she didn’t go down.

Tyler was screaming now, his skin blistering where the wolfsbane ate through his shirt.

The first goon grabbed Ariana from behind, his arm felt like a steel band around her throat.

She slammed her head back, felt his nose break , then drove an elbow into his chest.

He loosened just enough.

She spun, slashed her blade across his forearm, and he dropped.

Adele swung again.

Ariana blocked high, she felt the blade skid along her forearm, hot pain ran through her body.

She countered with a knee to Adele’s belly, then a slash across the traitor’s shoulder.

Adele staggered, blood soaking her sleeve.

Tyler was on his knees, his face already filled with red and black spots, his eyes filled with pain.

“Kill her!” he screamed.

The wounded man tackled Ariana from the side.

They hit the floor hard, her breath whooshing out.

His weight pinned her, as he raised his fist.

She bucked, put a knee up, and drove it into his groin.

He howled.

She rolled free, quickly scrambling for her dagger,

Just then a gunshot came from outside.

Then another.

The mill door burst open.

Eric stood in the frame, a machete in one hand, pistol in the other, his eyes filled with anger.

He paused as he saw her.

“Ariana!”

Tyler jumped to his feet, half his face a ruin, and charged Eric with a roar.

Eric fired twice, targeting Tyler, but he didn’t stop.

Tyler kept coming, momentum carrying him forward,
One of his men quickly tackled him to the floor, pulling him out to the room while another rushed to fight Eric.

Eric sidestepped, brought the machete down in a clean move.

The goon’s head hit the floor with a wet thud, body collapsing seconds later.

Silence.

Ariana’s ears rang.

Blood dripped from her arm, her face, her hands.

Eric looked around the room, Adele laid slumped against a crate, holding her shoulder, the two goons down and bleeding.

While the last goon and Tyler are driving off in their van.

Ariana knew the wolfbane effects were already in too deep, Tyler had no hope of surviving.

Eric lowered his weapon.

“You okay?” He asked.

She nodded, and dropped her weapon, her throat too tight to speak.

He crossed the room in three strides, pulled her against him, his arms shaking.

She buried her face in his neck, breathing in sweat and gunpowder on him.

Outside, afternoon light was beginning to come in.

The mill smelled of blood and wolfsbane and sweat.

They looked at each other and had a lot to explain when they got back.

Ariana felt safe, it was finally over, she looked up to kiss Eric when she felt something sharp drive through her back, she gasped and stepped backwards.

“Ariana No!” Eric screamed.

She heard Adele laughing behind her, she turned to see Adele smiling, blood all over her body, with her dagger in hand, the one she had dropped earlier, that was the last thing she saw as she collapsed to the floor, the darkness taking over her.