Chapter one

Teal binding stares at me from the table beside the bed. Mocking me. I'm torn between burning Monique's journal down to ashes and throwing the burnt pile as far from me as possible—just to get anything she's touched away from me—or cracking the cover open to discover whatever messed up secrets she's kept from me. At least ones I haven't already discovered.

Ruya's vision flickers through my mind every time I close my eyes, and tears burn at the back of my throat. Wren's blood soaked hair fanned out around her head, her too-still body lying on the castle floor at Monique's feet, Jules chained to the wall, screaming and sobbing. My heart splinters a little more each time it plays through my head.

Rolling onto my back, I hear the front door shutting softly, just loud enough for me to hear. For the last twenty-four hours, Brent and his team have been camped in the kitchen with Chloe, Mila, Frank, and Gideon—every wolf and witch we can use to track the mysterious castle down, and no progress has been made.

"Just open it."

My head whips toward the window, finding Kaylus perched on the ledge and tilting his head at me. He hops inside, nudging the journal with his beak.

"Maybe there's a clue to help us."

Chewing on my lip, I reach for the notebook, but as my fingers brush the corner, bile rises in my throat and blackness crowds the edges of my vision. I snap my hand back and shake my head. "Whatever is in there, it's… dark, Kaylus. I don't know if I can even touch it, forget about actually reading it."

I blow out a breath and stare up at the ceiling.

You can't sit here and do nothing forever, princess.

Scowling, I mumble back at my wolf, "What am I supposed to do? A tracking spell I don't know how to use? Or pick up a scent that doesn't exist?"

Her laugh is bitter as it echoes around my mind. So much progress in the last few weeks, yet here you are, still waiting for the world to become fair and simple. Listen to your familiar, and open the damn book.

My heart pounds against my ribs, making my chest ache. I glance again at the journal, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

Trust me to protect you, and trust your true strength.

Shoving my fear aside, I take a deep breath and grab the journal, pulling it off the table and into my lap. Vomit threatens at my lips, and the gray quilt covering my lap is the last thing I see before the darkness encroaches at the edges of my vision before swallowing me completely.

My eyes snap open, and I surge to my feet, only to trip over something caught around my legs. I twist and fall onto my side, the world spinning around me as I lay there gasping for breath.

"Adara?" Gideon's worried voice comes from the doorway behind me, his hurried footsteps moving closer. His hands grasp my shoulders, pulling me into his chest as he sits back on his heels. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I-I…" I swallow past the lump in my throat, working to take a deep breath through my nose, cedarwood and caramel swimming around me, and release it slowly out of my mouth. "I think I might be sick."

He tucks a thumb under my chin and lifts my face to meet his. Storm gray eyes bore into mine. "You touched it again." He says it like a statement—because he knows. It happened the last time I tried to read the journal when we realized he could see nothing but blank pages.

I could lift it, touch it, carry it around with me, but the minute the thought entered my mind to open it, everything changed.

"Adara," he says, his voice hard, "you—"

"I what, Gideon?" I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. "I should know better? I should remember what happened last time? I should trust that you'll all figure it out without me needing to look for clues in that evil woman's writing?" Palms against his chest, my wolf rising to the surface along with my temper, I shove him. "What am I supposed to do when my little sister is out there dying and no one here can read the gods damn book but her?"

His jaw ticks twice before he lifts his hands slowly, cupping my cheeks, one thumb swiping away a stray tear. "She's not dying, mia fiamma. I'll do anything—everything—to bring her back to you."

A sob breaks free from me, tearing its way through my chest. "I have to save them both. I… I can't just sit here."

Pulling me into him, he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight against his chest. His hands rub circles on my back as he rests his cheek on the top of my head. "We'll save them both. Together."

After a moment, he walks me into the bathroom and starts the shower. Steam fills the room. He runs a brush through my hair, then slowly takes off each piece of clothing and places a kiss on the top of my head.

"Take your time. We'll be downstairs when you're done." He brushes his thumb over my lips before closing the door behind him, leaving me alone in the fog-filled room.

I breathe out a sigh as I step under the hot water, letting it rain over me and relax each muscle.I try to let my mind ease along with it, but the feeling of the journal, rotten and wretched, is as seared into my fingertips as Ruya's vision is into my mind.

Instead of avoiding it, this time, I decide to lean into it.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I play back the vision to pick out any details I can.

Snow-capped mountains sit in the distance, a black shadow darting through the forest at its base.

Mist covered trees open to a castle, black spires reaching toward a storm-laden sky.

Blood drips from the point of a knife, splattering onto ivory tiles below. A pale figure grips its handle, their knuckles white below the hem of a black cloak. The face is shrouded in shadows, but a few stray blonde curls escape the hood.

The hooded figure's head snaps up, staring right at me, and the knife falls from her hand, clattering to the floor and landing beside a crumpled body. Black hair is fanned out in a halo, a pool of blood seeping through it, the crimson liquid coating the strands and making them shine eerily in the candlelight.

"Wren!" a girl screams, her voice breaking.

The cloaked woman steps aside, revealing a young girl, her arms chained to the wall above her head—Juliana. She thrashes against her restraints, screaming Wren's name over and over. Her blonde hair is matted on one side, mud caked onto her cheek with a long slash across the other. Sobs shake Jules's shoulders, her voice hoarse as she continues to wail, desperate to break free.

I suck my lip between my teeth and play it in my mind again, biting down hard as tears burn at the backs of my eyes. Then, again. And again. There's something in there that I'm missing. I know there is.

There has to be.

Because if there isn't, then there's no other clues to finding my sister and Wren. Monique will win. It'll be over.

Anger and heartache and frustration and all the emotions I've been keeping to myself for years surrounding Monique bubble up inside me. How life could be so cruel, so unfair to keep the only real family away from me, to keep Jules within Monique's reach, to threaten everything I've found and grown to accept as mine. This pack. This strength. This wolf. I throw my head back into the stream of water and scream, my wolf surging to the surface, my claws piercing my palms.

Burying my face into my hands, I take a few deep breaths and shut off the water. My mind races as I get dressed quickly, my thoughts and fears playing on a loop. Family, Jules, my pack, my wolf—I'm so frustrated with myself for not thinking of it sooner.

I nudge the journal into a small bag and sling it over my shoulder, rushing down the stairs. Gideon mentioned that Jules read the journal, so maybe it's something that's blocking only me. I didn't ask Gideon to try reading it again, not wanting to risk him tearing it to shreds if it pisses him off. When it pisses him off. Gods know Monique has a special talent for striking his temper.

Bursting down the stairs, I see Gideon standing at the kitchen counter, one brow quirking up when he sees me. The witches and wolves we've had here working to help us are at the table, pouring over whatever papers are spread out before them. I motion to the back door and give a small smile, watching as his eyes tighten, his lips pressing into a hard line as he comes toward me.

"I need to go for a walk, but I'll be right back," I tell him, raising onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"I'll come with you." He starts to turn toward the others, but I grab his arm.

"No," I say, a bit too harshly. Taking a breath, I search his eyes, pleading. "I just need to clear my head. By myself."

His jaw ticks. "I don't like this, Adara. I don't want you going out there alone right now. It isn't smart—"

"I promise it's only a walk. I'll be fine, and I'll be right back." I squeeze his forearm, trying to reassure him.

Shaking his head, he frowns down at me. "I want to come with you, to keep you safe. I can't protect you if you leave me behind."

Frank approaches from behind and claps him on the shoulder. "She'll be fine, boss. Come on, I think there's been some debates you should be listening to. See if you can think of anything to add." Gideon sighs, the mate bond in my chest loosening when he finally relents. He leans forward, kissing me softly. "Please stay safe." "I will. I promise." Squeezing Frank's forearm as I pass by, I make my way through the back door into the yard. Kaylus circles the air above me, swooping down to land on my shoulder, his claws gripping my shirt.

"I can't believe he let you leave all by yourself," he caws, the hint of a laugh lacing his words.

I roll my eyes and shrug him off, but he rustles his feathers and settles back against me. "He trusts me not to run off on him to fight battles alone… again. We're figuring it out together this time. I just… had an idea I wanted to try."

Looking up into the trees above us, the bare branches weaving together look like skeletal fingers reaching through the starry night sky. A chill snakes down my spine, and I shiver, trying to brush off the strange apprehension clawing at the edges of my mind. I know I could've asked Gideon to come with me—or anyone, really—to help me feel less vulnerable in the woods by myself. Questions about how Monique was able to take Jules and Wren swirl through my mind, making me question my own sanity for coming out here alone.

It doesn't matter how she took them,my wolf says. What matters is how we're getting them home.

The familiar lump in my throat comes back, and I swallow past it, holding back the tears that threaten to spill over. Gideon wouldn't understand, though. He hates the journal—wants to burn it to ashes, and I can't blame him because a part of me does too. But it could hold the answers that we need to find my sister, and I won't give up until she's safe. And to do that, this has to work.

This will work.