Chapter Fifteen — Lyra’s POV

Six years ago

My eyes slowly fluttered open, heavy with the lingering effects of whatever drug they’d hit me with. A dull ache pulsed in my skull as I groaned, pushing myself to stand. The dart was still lodged in my neck, a reminder of how I got here.

The memories of the last hours were a jumbled mess in my head, otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting there, waiting for my vision to adjust to the painfully bright room. I would have leaped out of that bed, searching for a way out of what I never could have imagined would become eight months of living hell.

When it finally hit me that I wasn’t in my room, the memory of being chased by a group of shifters resurfaced. I thought of the unfamiliar woman‘s voice saying, “She’s the one”, before I blacked out. My eyes snapped open, and I sprang out of the bed.

The room around me was a dark, suffocating shade of red, with no windows—only walls that seemed to press in on me. A single dim bulb flickered overhead, casting erratic shadows over the sparse furniture in the room. An empty table stood next to the bed, and a lone accent chair sat near the door. Off to the side, a door led to a bathroom with a toilet, adding to the claustrophobic feel of the space.

Instinctively, I rushed to the door, but it was locked. My eyes darted around every inch of the room: under the bed, along the walls as I searched for a vent or anything that could aid my escape. But there was nothing. This was like a prison. My prison.

I heard the jingle of keys outside and stepped back, pressing myself against the wall. My eyes locked on the door as the handle turned, and it swung open to reveal a man. He paused in the doorway, a satisfied smile on his face as he took me in. Tall and imposing, his sharp features assessed me. His midnight black hair framed his face, and the sinister smirk he wore told me all I needed to know—he wasn’t here to help me.

“Lyra Winters, is it?” he asked, stepping into the room.

I didn’t answer. I just watched him warily as he settled into the lone accent chair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been looking forward to this moment,” he said, his smile unfaltering yet unnerving. It left me confused and uneasy.

“What do you want with me?” I finally managed to ask. “Why did you bring me here? Where am I even?”

“You’re in Red Rock,” he replied, his voice smooth and chilling. “The home of the Blackwood pack.”

My body froze. The Blackwood pack. I had heard the rumors—their ruthlessness, wickedness, and complete disregard for anyone who stood in their way. They were said to be the most powerful pack, yet they were plagued by something they were desperate to escape. No one truly understood what haunted them, only that it was a desperate flight from a fate they didn’t want to embrace. Which brought me to my next thought. What did the Blackwoods want with me?

“My name is Thane Blackwood, the Alpha of this pack,” he said, his tone dripping with a sinister confidence. “And the rumors you’ve heard are true. But not for long…now that you’re here.”

That was the first conversation I had with Thane Blackwood, and it barely hinted at the kind of monster he was, not even a tiny bit. It wasn’t until the first day of what I came to call “The Test” that I discovered why they needed me and what they intended to do with me.

Day 7 of 242

I hadn’t seen the light of day in an entire week, nor had I breathed in fresh air. I was locked up in this room, this hell hole, trapped and spiraling into madness. They always slid my food through a small opening in the door, and it hadn’t been open until that night. The door flew open, and two fierce guards stormed in. I braced myself for a fight, and managed to land two solid punches on one of them before they injected me with something that sent me to unconsciousness.

When I woke up later, I found myself chained to a cold stone tomb. For a fleeting moment, I inhaled the fresh air, but not a moment longer as my eyes darted around to see the six girls standing over me with Thane looming behind them. Instinctively, I tried to break free of the chains, but they held tight. My next plan was to shift. I reclined in the tomb, feeling my bones begin to crack as my wolf fought to emerge, but then the needle pierced my skin. My eyes flew open, and I saw the woman’s face—the same woman who had touched my belly the day I was captured. “Don’t bother trying, little wolf,” she said.

Whatever she injected me hit me like a primal force a moment later, and I screamed into the darkness as the effects overwhelmed me. It felt as if my bones were breaking from the inside out, my body desperately trying to shift but unable to comply. It was as if whatever they dosed me with was severing the connection between me and my wolf, like trying to tear apart the body and soul.

“It’s wolfsbane,” she said. “I spelled it. It’s not going to kill you, but it will hurt your wolf enough to keep her at bay while we do what we must.”

Chants followed afterward. The six girls standing over me joined their hands together and began speaking in a language I couldn’t understand. The woman then slashed both sides of my arm, my blood spilling onto the tomb. Almost immediately, it felt like my entire body was on fire, as if I was suffering from an aneurysm. I screamed and wailed in agony, but they didn’t stop. The woman before me joined the chant, and the pain intensified.

“Please, please, stop…” I begged, but my voice was drowned out by their chanting, growing louder with each sentence, and the energy pulsing in the area.

The agony continued for what felt like forever, until finally, they ceased their incantations. My body shrank, as I heard my wolf whimpering. I was weak in the knees but I managed to see the reaction of Thane— he was furious.

The first of many tests had failed.

Day 221 of 242

I stared at my reflection in the mirror of the adjoining bathroom of my prison for the last six months. The sight was grim. My hair was a tangled mess that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in months— because it actually hadn’t. I’d once used the cutlery they provided with my meals to cut it short. But I’d also stuck that cutlery in one of the guard’s necks in a desperate attempt to escape.

Since then, they stopped giving me silverware altogether, meaning that I ate my food with my fingers, and couldn’t cut my hair anymore despite the fact that it grew longer by the day. The dark circles underneath my eyes had become a permanent feature of my face. They were not just from all my sleepless nights but also from the bleeding that accompanied each of their tests.

It felt like Thane Blackwood and his witch, Hecate, were trying to bake a certain kind of cookie, but didn’t have the recipe. All they had were the ingredients as they repeatedly tried and failed to achieve their goal. They soon realized that the missing ingredient needed to break their curse was the blood of my unborn child.

My hands went to my protruding belly, and my heart ached for what my baby had to go through even before entering the world. Just because they lacked the blood they needed to complete their ritual didn’t mean they spared me from torment. Whatever they were doing to me every week—the aneurysm, the bleeding, the wolfsbane, the magic—was all to slow the curse’s grip on Thane, who was growing weaker by the day. He was particularly vulnerable during every full moon. These “tests” provided him with just enough strength to pull through the week, but the rest of his pack was withering away as they waited for me to give birth. Once that happened, Thane would rid them of their curse and would no doubt eliminate me, since I’d then be of no use to him.

With trembling hands, I lifted the chalk and drew a line on the wall, marking day two hundred and twenty-one in this hell hole. The chalk slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor, while I collapsed, sobbing.

My daily routine of crying in the bathroom was interrupted when the door swung open. I returned to the room where I saw a young girl. She wasn’t the person who brought my meals every day, but I recognized her from every nightmare. The six girls—she was one of them.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I charged at her, gripping her neck with my feeble hands. But my strength was too depleted to cause any real harm. Without uttering a word, I felt a surge of heat in my head, an intensity that threatened to overwhelm me. I released my grip from her neck, and she stopped whatever she was doing as the pain subsided.

“My name is Meredith,” she said softly, helping me to the bed just before I collapsed onto the floor.

“Okay, Meredith,” I said wearily. “Listen to me carefully: I’m going to kill you and every one of those girls when I get out of here.”

She ignored my threat. “There is something happening. The plans have changed. Thane is growing impatient. He can’t wait another three months for you to give birth before breaking the curse.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a choice, does he?”

She was silent, her eyes revealing that he did indeed have a choice.

“What the hell is going on?” I snapped, a wave of terror washing over me.

“He has us working on a spell to deliver your child prematurely. He only needs the blood of the child, so he doesn’t care if it lives or dies.”

My eyes grew wide with horror. Thane was a different kind of monster, I had come to realize. But if he could show no mercy to an innocent child, then I had severely underestimated the depths of his monstrosity.

Meredith continued, “There’s going to be a party in twenty-one days—the day before Thane plans to force your child’s birth and break the curse. It’ll be a celebration of their last night being cursed. Everyone will either be distracted or drunk. I can help you escape then.”

I straightened up instantly. I had long dispelled any thought of escaping after my thirteen failed attempts, which always ended poorly for me.

“Escape?” The word suddenly sounded foreign to me. “How?”

She offered a half smile and rose to her feet. “I’ll come find you in twenty-one days. But you need to eat—for yourself and for your unborn child.” She gestured to the tray of food on the bedside table. Then she turned to leave, but I stopped her with a question.

“Why? Why are you helping me?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at me. “Leo would be disappointed if he saw the things I did to you.” She glanced back to the door and added, “And I know you’re a good person. Good people don’t deserve to suffer.”

With that, she exited the room, leaving me with a glimmer of hope—something I hadn’t felt in months.

Day 242 of 242

I had no faith in today. I didn’t know the plan, if there even was one. All I had clung to for the past three weeks were Meredith’s words. Sitting on the bed, waiting for her to burst through it and help me escape, I began to wonder if this was just another one of Hecate’s ways of torturing me psychologically. I knew there was a party, but I hadn’t heard from Meredith since that day. Morning turned into afternoon, afternoon into evening, and evening into night. Yet, no sign of her. I was just on the verge of breaking down in tears, having drawn the mark for the two hundred and forty-second day, when the door flew open. Meredith rushed in carrying a bag, and a pair of boots.

“Here, put these on,” she said, throwing the boots to the ground. “We don’t have much time.”

Without hesitation, I quickly laced the boots and slipped on the knitted cardigan she gave me. But when she pulled out a knife, I instinctively stepped back, holding my hand up.

Fear assailed me, but I was mostly distraught. “What are you doing?”

She looked confused as she answered, “Helping you escape. Give me your hand.”

I was wary but desperate, so I extended an arm and barely flinched when she carved a circle into my wrist. I was already accustomed to the pain of getting my wrist cut. As she chanted some spells, I watched the circle glow for a few seconds.

“That’s a cloaking spell my mother taught me. I’ve bound it to my life, so the Blackwoods will never find you with whatever spell they cast. But if I die, the mark will fade, and you’ll become vulnerable. They’ll be able to track you to any corner of this earth. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head in affirmation.

“Come on,” she grabbed my arm. “We better leave before the guards return from the party.”

Meredith guided me through the dark, dense woods, and I followed her, trusting her completely despite the uncertainty of our destination. She urged me to run faster, but I couldn’t. I had to be careful because of the baby. We continued running, until we reached the riverbank—the very place I’d been captured.

“You’re on your own now,” she said, turning to leave.

I grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “Wait, please.”

She hesitated but eventually halted. I wasn’t thinking, the only way I could express my gratitude was by wrapping my arms around her in a hug. “Thank you, Meredith.”

She shrugged her shoulders, pulling away. “Leo would have wanted me to do the right thing.”

“Leo?” I asked in confusion. This was the second time she mentioned that name.

“My father,” she replied softly. “Now go. Don’t stop running until your instincts tell you to.”

She cast me one final glance before disappearing into the night.