Chapter 58

Meanwhile Inside the Mill

The world didn’t just stop, it shattered.

Eric heard the dagger enter Ariana’s back before anything else, a soft, sickening shunk of steel sliding between ribs, the kind of sound that lived in nightmares and never left.

It was quieter than a gunshot but louder than thunder in his skull.

Then came her inhale, sharp and shaky, like someone had dragged the air from her lungs.

Her body fell forward in slow motion, knees moving backwards as if invisible strings had been used to pull her legs.

She hit the floor on her side, one hand clutching the wound, the other reaching blindly for him.

Blood poured between her fingers, dark, thick blood, slowly spreading across the dusty wood in a way that soaked her hoodie in seconds.

The smell hit him next, copper and wolfsbane, sharp and strong, like burnt metal mixed with decaying flesh.

His heart sank.

That was the smell of Wolfbane.

The blade was poisoned.

Her eyes, those normally fierce, green eyes that always looked ready to beat anyone who talked down on her but still always found room to laugh at Eric’s bad jokes, were wide open, fixed on him.

She looked Terrified.

Confused.

“Eric…” A bubble of blood, pink foam at the corner of her mouth.

He was moving before his brain caught up.

The machete fell from his hand, ringing against the floor as he dropped to his knees beside her.

His hands hung above her, afraid to touch, afraid not to “Ariana, baby, look at me. Look at me.” His voice cracked like thin ice.

He held her face; her skin was already clammy, her pulse getting shaky under his thumb like a trapped insect.

Blood poured through her fingers, warm and sticky,
unto his palms.

He pressed his hand over hers on the wound, trying to stop the flow, but it was like trying to hold water in a sieve.

Behind her, Adele began to laugh.

It was a wet, gurgling sound, like she was drowning in her own blood and enjoying it.

She was slumped against a broken crate ten feet away, one hand clamped over the shoulder wound Eric had given her earlier, it was a deep, ragged wound, her bone showing through torn muscle.

Her other hand still held the dagger she had picked up from the floor, the one Ariana had dropped when she hugged Eric.

Blood dripped from the tip of the dagger, mixing with the puddle at her feet.

“One… for the road,” she rasped, smiling through her red teeth, her face pale but triumphant.

“Tell her… I said hi.” She whispered.

Eric lost his temper at that statement.

Anger rushed through his head, hot and blinding.

He jumped up, grabbing his pistol from his holster in one fluid motion, his finger already squeezing the trigger.

The barrel shook in his grip.

“I’ll fucking end you right now, ” he shouted.

“Do it,” Adele spat, blood leaving her chin and splattering the crate.

She didn’t flinch, she didn’t even blink.

“Go ahead.” She shouted, blood pouring from her mouth, her body shaking.

“Pull it. And she dies for sure, Only one vial left, and Tyler’s got it.” She whispered, laughing.

“She’s lucky though, the wolfsbane on that blade? It’s diluted, it’s not full strength. So she’s got like three hours before her heart stops.” She said and smiled.

“Or maybe four if she’s lucky.” She added.

“Tick-tock, lover boy.” She said and smiled.

“Every second you waste on me is one less for her.” She said and laughed.

Eric froze.

The gun shook in his hand, safety clicking off with a soft sound.

His mind raced, he couldn’t think straight, he didn’t know what to do.

Tyler had fled with the last goon in the black van, they must have gotten far by now.

The mill was silent except for Ariana’s weak breathing and Adele’s dying coughs.

He had no backup.

No time.

He lowered the pistol slowly, and holstered it with shaking hands.

“Where?” The word came out as a growl, barely human.

Adele’s smile grew wider, her cracked lips splitting. “Hunting cabin. Three miles north. You know the one, old safe house, false maze that you could get lost in, it also had a lot of booty traps, you will have to hurry.” She said and laughed.

“Tyler’s got a head start, and the moon’s rising tonight.” She said and smiled.

“Full moon at dusk. He’ll shift, heal those burns, and rip you apart before you get close.” She said and coughed again, blood bubbling at the corners of her mouth, her voice weakening but still enough to make him angry.

“Your choice, Eric.” She said laughing.

“Chase him and maybe save your little bird… or stay here and watch her bleed out like me,
My work is done, I could care less if I die. Either way, Tyler wins.” She said, laughing weakly.

Eric’s eyes moved back to Ariana.

She was trying to speak, her lips moving under the blood.

Her fingers twitched, reaching for him, nails scraping the floor.

“Eric…” It was barely a whisper, faint as wind through cracks.

He dropped to his knees again, the wood biting into his joints.

He held her face gently, his thumbs brushing her cheeks, smearing blood and tears.

Her pulse was shaky under his touch, it was slowing down rapidly.

“I’m getting it,” he said, his voice cracking.

“I’m getting the antidote.” He whispered.

“You hold on, you hear me? You must fight it. Remember the night in the snowstorm? You made me eat those marshmallows because I was ‘hangry.’ You were right. You’re always right. Don’t you dare leave me now.” He said as he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead, tasted salt, blood, fear, the faint trace of her shampoo under it all.

Her skin was getting cold already.

She tried to nod, but it was just a twitch. Her eyes shook as she fought for them to stay open.

Eric slowly stood, his legs were numb.

He snatched the machete from the floor, sheathed it with a snick.

Adele was fading, color draining from her face, but her eyes stayed locked on him, mocking.

“Better run,” she whispered.

“The clock is ticking.”

He quickly ran out of the mill.

Meanwhile in Crescent Compound, Kitchen

Clara stood silently at the sink in the lodge kitchen, hands buried knuckle deep in cold, soapy water that had long turned oily from grease and coffee mugs.

She stared at a broken ceramic plate she hadn’t moved in five full minutes, the sponge still in her hands.

The old phone on the counter, was old, battered, and held together with duct tape, it came to life with a burst of static.

“Hello? Madam Clara are you there? Master Eric and Miss Ariana are currently unaccounted for, we would appreciate any information from you regarding them.”

Her stomach dropped like a stone in deep water.

The plate slipped from her fingers, clattering into the sink with a sharp crack that echoed off the tile walls.

Soap water splashed up her arms.

She had been here since dawn, scrubbing the same counters over and over, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed through.

Avoiding Gabe’s worried looks in the hall, avoiding the council room where elders argued about borders and spies, avoiding the way the younger pack members looked at her, like she was a ghost wandering the halls, Liam’s mate but not really, not anymore.

She had cornered an elderly maid last night and asked her about the witch on the mountain.

“The witch on the mountain… Mara… she brought back an Alpha once.” The maid had said fearfully.

“Soul for a soul. But it ain’t right what comes back…” she had said in a shaky voice.

Clara had listened silently, her heart pounding, and scribbled the details on a crumpled napkin during her break.

“Mara. Take the old logging road, above the mountain, the woods just past the burned out ranger station. Soul for a soul.”

She dried her hands on a faded dish towel, the fabric rough against her skin, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.

Liam’s wooden wolf carving was in her pocket, she could feel its smooth edges through her jeans, a talisman he had made for her on their first anniversary.

She needed air.

She needed to step out.

She needed to believe there was something beyond grief.

The kitchen door creaked as she pushed it open.

The compound was chaotic outside, trucks idling with engines rumbling, people shouting near the gate, radios squawking.

Gabe’s voice came over the main channel.

“I want teams at the mill NOW! Full gear!” No one noticed Clara slip out the back door, walking as silently as she could as she hid behind the woodpile and rushed into the tree line.

The air felt cold on her cheeks, but she welcomed it, anything to feel something other than the empty pain in her chest.

Meanwhile at the Mill Parking Area

Eric burst from the mill door into blinding afternoon sunlight, the cold air slapping his face like a wake-up call.

He sprinted toward the parking area, his lungs burning. The black van was gone, tire tracks fresh in the dirt, he could tell they were heading north through the access road.

He was sure Tyler had gotten far.

He looked around for his truck, his truck was parked a quarter-mile back, off-trail behind a stand of pines where he had left it hidden.

He rushed towards his truck as fast as he could, the driver’s door was already open, he hadn’t closed it earlier, he threw himself inside, key already in the ignition.

The engine coughed once, twice, old battery, cold weather, then came to life with a loud bang.

He slammed it into gear, gravel flying as he drove out of the spot.

The path was a nightmare: potholes deep enough to swallow a tire, rocky washouts from last week’s rain, exposed roots, ruining the suspension like speed bumps.

He kept the pedal down anyway, his face looked white with fear as he drove, the truck skidding on ice patches.

His phone buzzed in the cupholder, Gabe’s name flashing.

He ignored it, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Adele’s words kept on replaying in his head.

“Three hours… hunting cabin… false bottom… full moon
.”

He knew the place intimately, Tyler had used it as a safe house two years back during a border skirmish.

Eric had scouted it on a solo recon, he remembered the layout, it was a single room, bunk beds, more like a military base.

He knew If the antidote was there, Tyler would guard it with his life. And with the full moon rising, Tyler would be unstoppable.

Eric looked around the car for a bottle of water as he drove, he felt uneasy, his eyes kept on shifting from focus, His ribs were definitely cracked, one of Tyler’s goons had landed a lucky punch to his rib during the fight, and every breath felt like there was glass scraping his lungs.

Blood soaked his shirt under the singlet, it was warm and sticky, but he ignored it, focusing on the road ahead.

Just then he noticed headlights flashing in the rearview mirror.

It was a jeep, black, no plates, tinted windows, coming up behind him, getting close fast.

It rammed his bumper with a loud crunch of metal.

Eric turned away, and corrected with a yank of the wheel, before flooring it again.

The jeep pulled alongside, window rolling down.

A man looked out, his face scarred, his shotgun raised on the doorframe.

Boom.

The driver’s window exploded in a shower of safety glass.

Glass pieces sprayed all over Eric’s face and neck, it stung like bees.

He bent low, blood trickling into his eye, and turned the wheel right.

The truck sideswiped the jeep and the jeep veered, the tires losing control on ice, and it rolled once, twice, before coming to rest upside down.

Steam coming out from the hood.

Eric didn’t stop.

He wiped blood from his eye with his sleeve and kept driving.

Meanwhile at the tree Line Behind Compound

Clara moved as fast as she could along the service road, staying low in the drainage ditch where the pines blocked sightlines from the compound.

She had made sure to pack light, a half-full Nalgene bottle, a pack of protein bars she had grabbed from the pantry, a folded map with the logging road circled in red, and Liam’s wolf carving tucked in a side pocket.

She had left a note under her pillow in their cabin.

“Gone to find help. Don’t follow. I love you all.” but no one would see it until evening check-in, if then.

The dried snow under her boots with every step she took.

Her heart skipped with every crunch sound it made.

It felt like an announcement.

“Traitor leaving the pack.”

Liam would’ve hated this, her involvement with black magic, her desperation, her bargaining with darkness.

But Liam was dead, he was buried in icy ground, and the mate bond was a cold, it now felt like an empty socket in her chest, a space that reminded her how empty it was with every heartbeat.

She would trade her soul, her life, her everything if it brought him back.

One more chance to hear his laugh, feel his hand in hers.

She finally got to the ranger station.

The ranger station was burnt beyond recognition, blackened wooden beams sagging under their own weight, the collapsed roof open to the sky, graffiti from bored teens scrawled across the remaining walls.

Clara bent her head as she passed under a fallen doorframe, the wood splintered and damp, and pulled out her map.

The hermit’s shack was another mile up the trail, it was just past the creek crossing.

She checked her watch, 2:19 p.m.

Sun set at 6:12.

Full moon at 6:47.

She had time, if she didn’t stop.

She unscrewed the whiskey she carried and took a sip.

It tasted harsh but she didn’t care.

She closed it, and stuffed the map away, she took a deep breath and kept moving, she didn’t have any time to waste.

Just then a twig snapped behind her.

She dropped flat behind a log, her heart slamming against her ribs, hand sliding to the knife at her belt.

It was nothing.

Just wind rustling the pines.

Or a deer. Or,

Another snap.

Closer.

Footsteps.

She crept forward on her belly, as silent as Liam had taught her on hunts, and peered around a thick pine trunk.

A man in his Mid-thirties, wearing a camo jacket that looked faded from too many washes, his rifle hung over his shoulder.

She didn’t recognize him, he didn’t even smell like he was from the pack.

He wasn’t a Crescent wolf.

She could tell he was one of Tyler’s scouts.

The man stopped and began relieving himself against a tree, one hand on his zipper, the other holding a walkie to his ear.

“North ridge clear.” He said into the phone.

“No sign of the girl yet.” He added.

“Tyler says burn everything if anyone gets close, over.” He added.

Clara’s blood went cold.

The girl? Was it Ariana? Or her?

She backed away, slow, silent, one step, two.

Just then she stepped on a twig, the crunch was as loud as a gunshot in the quiet.

The scout spun, quickly raising his rifle up.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!”

She ran.

Meanwhile, Fire Road

The fire road was a washout gauntlet, deep mud pits, fallen trees blocking half the path.

Eric’s truck bottoms it hard on a root, sparks flying from the under.

He swore under his breath, threw it into four low, and pushed forward, the engine growling in protest.

The radio crackled to life on the dash.

“Eric, report your situation, Gabe’s losing his shit here, " Static swallowed the rest.

Eric smashed the handset against the steering wheel until it went silent, the plastic cracking.

He adjusted the steering and slammed the brakes, tires locking, leaving fresh, deep, skid marks ahead.

There was only one other tyre mark on the road, he could tell they belonged to Tyler, Eric quickly followed, turning sharp, the truck driving down the road following the other tyre mark.