Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

brIAR

B riar floated in a hazy realm of darkness, her body weightless and numb, but slowly, the veil began to lift. Sensation returned in fragments—a sharp ache in her wrists, the rough texture of bark against her back, the smell of damp earth and pine. Her mind stirred sluggishly as awareness seeped in, and she realized with a jolt where she was.

The forest chapel.

Her eyes snapped open, and she fought down the surge of panic as it tried to overwhelm her. The canopy of ancient trees stretched high above her, their branches twisted and woven together to form a natural ceiling. Rays of dim light filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns on the ground below. This was a place she knew well—too well. It was sacred ground to her coven, used for rituals that bound magic and souls together.

Her heart pounded as she scanned her surroundings, her breath shallow. She was bound to a tree—the largest willow in the clearing, where they conducted ceremonies. Thick ropes bit into her body which had been tightly bound to the tree. Luckily, they had bound her arms in front of her. The rough bark scratched her skin through the thin fabric of the gown she wore, the ropes both around her body and those around her wrists were tight enough that her fingers tingled from lack of circulation.

Briar gritted her teeth, shifting slightly to test the ropes. They must have thought she would remain unconscious for longer, but the discomfort made it impossible to stay out for long. She could still feel the sluggish hum of magic beneath her skin—faint and buried, but not completely gone. They had taken off the iron restraints, replacing them with enchanted ropes that dulled her powers but didn't block them entirely.

A flicker of hope ignited in her chest. If I can just loosen these ropes…

She glanced around the clearing, her heart racing. Only one guard stood watch—a tall man she recognized as one of her mother's enforcers, a loyal follower. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression one of boredom as he leaned lazily against a smaller tree. He looked relaxed, unconcerned. They don't think I'm a threat anymore.

Her fingers twitched, testing the ropes again with subtle, careful movements. Every small shift sent fresh waves of pain through her wrists, but she didn't stop. She needed to be free, and she needed to be free now.

As she adjusted her posture against the bark, a cold and unsettling realization washed over her—a gown, she was wearing a gown and not just any gown, but a ceremonial one. They'd changed her clothes, which all by itself made her want to gag. The practical jeans and shirt she had worn earlier were gone, replaced by a soft, almost transparent gown that clung softly to her body. The gown was simple yet elegant, the white fabric embroidered with delicate golden threads, as if she were being prepared for a ritual.

Briar's breath hitched. They're going to perform the binding—over my dead body. She was already bound to the only man she wanted. Her mother's plan was still in motion. They intended to bind her to the warlock from the neighboring coven, joining the two covens and their magic in a union they thought could not be undone. But were they right? Could the bonding even be completed if she was bound to another?

Had they seen Colt's mark? She moved her arms from the elbow up to shift the gown's neckline slightly, her fingers brushing against the prominent scar close to the hollow of her throat where Colt's claiming mark lay hidden. It was a bite—a brand—marking her as his mate.

Surely, they wouldn't go through with this if they knew. A witch bound to a shifter was considered impure, tainted by what they considered to be an inferior species. It was forbidden—a scandal that would cast both covens into disgrace.

They hadn't noticed the mark. If they had, this gown would never have touched her skin.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat, but she swallowed it down. Idiots. But the knowledge did little to calm her rising fear. The covens wouldn't stop. They had invested too much in this union, and Briar knew firsthand how ruthless they could be.

Her mind raced. Both covens must be convening soon, she realized. If not the entire coven, then at least representatives from each—enough to make the union official. There wasn't much time.

Her gaze flickered to the lone guard again, her fingers still working quietly at the ropes. They had underestimated her, and if she was successful, it would be the last of their mistakes.

She focused on her breathing, forcing herself to stay calm. Panic wouldn't help her now. She had to think—had to use every skill, every ounce of magic she could muster to get free. Her magic stirred sluggishly, still dulled by the enchanted ropes, but she could feel it there beneath the surface, waiting.

I just need to stall long enough for Colt to find me. The thought of him—his strength, his unwavering presence—steadied her. She knew he was coming. He wouldn't stop until he found her.

But she had to give him time. She had to stay ahead of whatever ritual they were planning.

Carefully, Briar shifted her wrists again, biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep from wincing. The ropes were tight, but there was a slight give—just enough that she might be able to work them loose if she kept at it.

The guard yawned, stretching lazily. He didn't seem to suspect anything. Good. Stay complacent, Briar thought, her heart pounding. She needed every second she could get.

Magic hummed faintly beneath her skin, slow and heavy, but it was there. If she could just loosen the ropes enough to summon a small spell—a diversion—she might be able to break free. She focused her mind, drawing the threads of magic toward her, coaxing it to the surface.

It wasn't easy. The ropes sapped her strength, and every time she tried to pull the magic forward, it slipped just out of reach. Sweat beaded on her brow as she fought against the enchantment, her teeth clenched in determination.

Come on, come on...

Her fingers brushed against the bark of the tree, and she felt a tiny shift in the ropes. They were loosening, slowly but surely. A spark of hope ignited in her chest, and she redoubled her efforts, working the ropes inch by inch.

The guard shifted again, his gaze drifting lazily toward her. Briar stilled, her heart pounding in her throat. She forced herself to relax, her expression carefully blank.

The guard muttered something under his breath, then returned to scanning the perimeter. He hadn't noticed. Not yet. He thought the threat would come from somewhere beyond the forest. He was wrong.

Briar exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest easing slightly. She would get out of this. She would find a way. And when Colt arrived—and he would arrive—there would be no stopping them.

The ropes slipped a fraction more, and Briar felt the first stirrings of her magic begin to rise.

Just a little more, she thought, her heart racing. She could feel the magic thrumming beneath her skin now, stronger, sharper. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to create a spark. Enough to fight back.

Her gaze flickered to the guard one last time. He still wasn't paying attention.

Good.

Briar closed her eyes, gathering the threads of magic into a tight knot within her chest. When the time came—when she made her move—it would have to be quick. She couldn't afford to miss her chance.

Because this was her life they were playing with. And she wasn't about to let them take it from her.

Briar's heart hammered in her chest as she worked the ropes, her breathing shallow and ragged. Fear coiled within her, cold and unforgiving, but she forced it aside. Panic would only slow her down, and she needed her wits about her. With her wrists aching and magic beginning to pulse faintly beneath her skin, she knew she couldn't rely on brute strength alone. She needed to reach Colt—needed him to know where she was.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to focus. Her mind reached out, searching along the delicate bond that had formed between her and Colt when he'd marked her. The connection shimmered just out of reach, a gossamer thread stretched thin over the distance between them, but it was there. Faint, yet unmistakable.

‘Colt,' she whispered into the bond, pouring every ounce of urgency and hope she had into the thought. She could feel his presence—solid, grounding, like a steady drumbeat in the chaos. ‘ I'm at the forest chapel. They've taken me. Please… come quickly. But be careful. If the rest of the coven shows up, it could get ugly.'

For a moment, there was no response, only the faint hum of the connection between them. Then, like the first gust of wind before a storm, she felt his awareness sharpen. His emotions hit her all at once—a mix of fury, fear, and determination so strong it nearly took her breath away.

‘I'm coming, Briar.' His voice rumbled through the bond, low and fierce, filled with a promise. ‘ Hold on. I'll find you.'

A small flicker of relief bloomed in her chest, but it was short-lived.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Briar's eyes snapped open, her heart jolting as the guard pushed off the tree and strode toward her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Stop that," he ordered, his voice sharp. "Whatever it is you think you're doing, just stop. You're not getting away."

Her magic surged in response, raw and eager. She didn't have time for this—not with the threat of the rest of the coven arriving at any moment. Gritting her teeth, she focused on the nearest tree.

The willow's branches quivered as her magic reached out, coaxing life from the dormant wood. A thick vine slithered down from the canopy above, snaking silently toward the man. Before he could react, the vine whipped around his torso and yanked him off his feet, pinning him hard against the tree trunk.

"Hey!" he shouted, struggling against the vine as it coiled tighter around him. His legs kicked wildly, and his arms strained against the crushing pressure. "Let me go, you little…"

Briar's lips curved into a grim smile. She flicked her fingers, sending the vine squeezing just a bit tighter around his chest. The man gasped, his face turning red as the air was forced from his lungs.

"How's that feel?" Briar asked, her voice cold. "Enjoying yourself?"

He growled under his breath, trying to summon magic of his own. A spark flared in the air around him, but Briar's power surged forward, smothering his attempt with ease. His magic was no match for hers.

"You're not getting out of this," she warned, her eyes locked on him. "Save your energy."

The man wheezed, still struggling, but the vine held firm. He glared at her, hatred burning in his eyes. "You think this changes anything? They'll still come for you. You won't escape."

Briar ignored his threats, her mind already working on her next move. She needed a way to cut herself free—and fast. "Do you have a knife?" she asked, her tone sharp and impatient.

The man sneered. "Even if I did, why would I tell you?"

Briar rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll find it myself."

She closed her eyes, reaching out with her magic again. Another vine slithered down from the willow, creeping toward the man's pockets with eerie precision. He squirmed and cursed, but there was nothing he could do as the vine rifled through his clothing.

"Get off me!" he snarled, thrashing uselessly against the bindings.

Briar ignored him, her focus sharp. The vine slipped into one of his pockets and found what she was looking for—a small, sharp blade. The vine coiled around the handle, pulling the knife free with a swift, fluid motion.

Briar exhaled a small breath of relief as the vine brought the knife to her. She maneuvered the blade carefully toward her hands, gripping it awkwardly between her fingers. The position was awkward, and the ropes were tight, but she had no choice. She needed to move fast.

The blade sawed slowly but steadily against the rope, the tension beginning to ease with every stroke. Briar's heart pounded in her chest, feeling the gravity of the moment.

Come on… just a little more…

The rope frayed beneath the blade, the fibers loosening one by one. The sharp sting in her wrists dulled as the bonds began to give way, but every second felt like an eternity. She could feel time slipping away, the danger creeping closer with every heartbeat.

The man pinned to the tree continued to struggle, his face twisted with rage and fear. "You won't get far," he spat. "They're coming for you. You can't escape."

He was right. ‘They' were coming for her; it just wasn't the ‘they' he thought it was. Briar gritted her teeth, ignoring his taunts. The knife bit deeper into the rope, and she could feel the tension finally starting to break. Just a little more…

The rope snapped, and Briar's wrists came free. She sucked in a sharp breath, shaking out her hands as blood rushed painfully back into her fingers.

Without missing a beat, she scrambled to her feet, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She glanced around the clearing, her heart pounding. The forest seemed unnervingly still, but she knew better than to trust the quiet.

I have to move. Now. She needed to run, but doing so in the diaphanous gown would be tricky. Briar used the knife to cut the thing off just above her knees. That would make it easier to maneuver in.

The man thrashed against the vine one last time, his eyes wild with hatred. "Your fate is to bring the two covens together," he shouted after her.

Briar shot him a cold glance. "Watch me."

Without another word, she turned and sprinted toward the edge of the clearing, her heart pounding in her chest. The forest loomed ahead, thick and dark, but it was her only chance. She had to get away and hide before the rest of the coven arrived—before it was too late.

As she ran, her magic hummed beneath her skin, stronger now, sharper. The bond between her and Colt pulsed faintly in the back of her mind, guiding her like a beacon. He was coming for her. She could feel it.

But she couldn't wait for him. She needed to survive—and that meant getting as far away from this place as possible.