Chapter 31

Iam a storm.

I’m the wind rustling the boughs of trees, the lightning striking a deserted plain, and the thunder cackling up above. I’m the rain pelting your face, blurring your vision, and I’m the mud prohibiting forward momentum.

I am wrath. I am rage. I am vengeance personified.

Pace brisk, I hurry down the familiar halls of the Labyrinth. Gray stone walls turn smoother and wetter the farther we venture. Metal and lead pipes line the ceiling, sprouting in all directions. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a man laughing. A woman’s sated moan. Screams.

Damien follows silently behind me, an unwavering shadow. Not my shadow, but Nina’s.

“Stay behind me at all times,” I instruct curtly. The last thing I need is Blade’s lapdog in shifter territory, but I know arguing with the mage would be futile. Damien will not be deterred. “Don’t engage. Don’t talk. Just shut the hell up.”

With a nonchalance I know he doesn’t feel, Damien says, “You know, shifter, that I will kill you if anything has happened to her.”

My hands clench at the thought before I force myself to relax, my tight body loosening incrementally.

“Don’t worry. If she’s hurt, I’ll help you.”

We’re silent as we maneuver the maze-like basement. Shifter territory is opposite Blade’s. There’s an invisible line that no one dares to breach—a red rock that protrudes at an unnatural angle from the stone wall. Crossing said line is a declaration of war.

But it’s a line I’ll cross a million times if it means being with my fated mate.

I still remember the first time I saw her, despondently leaning against the wall. Her beautiful, heart-shaped face was downcast, but her milky eyes held a fierce determination. For a moment, I merely watched her. I balanced my human body precariously on one of the pipes, peering down at the beautiful female. Something in my chest tightened the longer I looked at her. A knot, almost, with the remainder of the rope connected to her. The longer I stared, the more persistent the tug became before I couldn’t resist the urge to crawl towards her.

If my own people have hurt her…

I don’t know what I’ll do.

They better fucking hope they can run fast enough.

Whistling beneath my breath, I shove my hands into my pockets and hesitate at a fork in the wall.

“Left or right?” I ask Damien, and the scary man scoffs.

“You don’t fucking know?” he roars.

I hold my hands up placatingly. “Calm your titties, magic boy. No one knows where to go in the Labyrinth,” I say, staring down one direction and then the other. Both seem to go on forever—an endless black abyss you could get lost in.

Is Nina down one of them, scared to death? Is she hurt?

My thoughts begin to swirl like a damn whirlpool, and I know they will only be settled by her magnetic presence.

“Let’s go,” Damien growls, shoving past me and walking down the right tunnel. I follow behind, my claws digging into the stone and leaving behind a trail.

After a few more right turns, we enter a cavernous room that serves as our cafeteria. Or, at least, one of them. We have three on our side of the prison, and Blade has two. This is the smaller one I took Nina to so many days ago.

Long, wooden tables are evenly distributed in the center of the room, all of them occupied. There’s a hole in the right wall, leading to a makeshift kitchen. While the cafeteria itself is powered by magic, capable of creating food whenever anyone enters its walls hungry, most of my shifters prefer to make their own. Only a year ago, we tore a hole in the wall and bribed the guards to provide us with stoves, microwaves, and other stainless-steel appliances.

Rowdy shifters talk amongst themselves. Some are in human form, fighting and fucking, while others are animals. I spot a monkey hanging from the pipes and an alligator resting in the corner.

A single cage is against the wall at the front of the room, the door hanging open on its hinges. It was my idea to have it in plain view of everyone. A way to shame and demean the person in question. Normally, we reserve it for out-of-control shifters or murderous assholes.

If they shoved Nina into that fucking cage, I’ll kill them all.

The shifters go deathly silent as I stalk forward, bending down to stare into the cage. Tapping into my enhanced senses, I inhale deeply. Piss, blood, and mold permeate the air. Underneath it all, subdued, is the familiar floral scent of my precious mate.

Fucking hell. Murder spree it is, I suppose.

Growls reverberate behind me, low and threatening. No doubt, Damien has entered the room as well. I glance over my shoulder as the tall, slender man moves forward with a grace and elegance that belies his predatory nature. He doesn’t seem at all perturbed that he has basically entered the lion’s den. Those cold, dead eyes of his survey each and every face with unwavering intensity. More than one shifter blanches, lowering their head.

Maybe Blade did something right keeping Damien on hand. I can see how appealing it can be to have my very own psychopath at my beck and call.

At that moment, he’s not the prey, but the apex predator.

“The prisoner who was here…” I nod towards the empty cage. “Where is she?” My voice is low and quiet, but it carries in the room as if I’ve been screaming. The dominance I exude is capable of bringing grown-ass men to their knees. Shifters, like all animals, follow a certain hierarchy. Power is key. You’re a predator or you’re prey. There is no fucking in between.

I have always, and will always, be the predator. The tiger pursuing the tasty selection of morsels spread out before him. The hunter. The monster.

Hermonster.

One of the men, an avian shifter, points towards the far hallway leading to the cells.

Without another word, I storm in that direction, not bothering to check if Damien is following me. For all I know, he was feeling cute and decided to get stabby.

Square cells are evenly spaced three feet apart. Some are nicer than others, bedecked in clean sheets, carpeting, and have a separate room for toilets and showers. Others are nothing but gray boxes with a sleeping mat, one scratchy blanket, and a chamber pot.

As I said before, there’s a hierarchy.

We pass a couple fucking, and both immediately cover themselves when we stalk by, eyes wide with fear. A bear shifter rears back on his hind legs when we invade his space, pauses, then ducks his head in submission.

At the end of the hall, we veer to the right and to a familiar block of cells. My inner circle.

Jerome, Klaus, Manny, and Braelyn. Four of the most ruthless, vicious shifters I have ever laid eyes on. They had arrived in the Labyrinth with chips on their shoulders, and I had worked tirelessly to fuel their anger and rage. I provided the tinder in order to create a brilliant, all-consuming fire.

And while they’re loyal, they’re also fierce haters of Blade and his gang. If they’ve gotten to Nina…

Cursing, I pick up my pace, shoving lone shifters out of the way. Damien, sensing my unease, moves to stand beside me, a dagger in each hand. I don’t bother to tell him to hang back; the man needs blood just as much as I do.

The door swings open on silent hinges, and the sight in front of me makes my blood run cold. The ice squeezes my heart, crushing it.

My mate—my motherfucking mate—is tied to a table in the center of the room. Her black curls are matted with dirt and sweat, cascading off the side. Her eyes are closed, head lolled to the side. A form-fitting silver dress is ripped, revealing her creamy white thigh. Dirt discolors her beautiful face.

Standing around her are members of my inner circle. Braelyn is smiling slightly, a knife held loosely in her hand. Jerome and Klaus rest against the door, the latter appearing uneasy. Manny is tying the last rope around her ankle.

“You have three seconds to move before I kill you,” Damien says in a deathly calm voice. Braelyn’s head whips up, and she flashes me a smug smile. That smile falters when she catches sight of first my—and then Damien’s—expression.

“Rion. You’re back,” she breathes. Manny drops Nina’s ankle, slowly backing up. Smart man, going under the assumption that he values his good-for-nothing life.

And…

Just kidding.

Damien’s knife embeds itself cleanly in Manny’s eye. The shifter’s mouth opens in shock, blood gurgling, before he falls to the ground, dead.

“Anyone else?” the mage asks, holding up his second knife. Jerome and Klaus turn on their heels and run out the door.

They can run… It’ll make the hunt all the more exciting later on.

Braelyn hisses, feline eyes hurling daggers at me.

“Rion!” Her voice is high-pitched in accusation and anger. “How could you?” Normally, I would have agreed with her. What leader shows up at their home with the enemy? But alas, I’m going to have to murder her, which is a shame. She was a damn good vice president.

“Step away from my mate,” I whisper darkly.

Braelyn’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, flickering between me and Nina and then back to me. Slowly, she backs away, hands raised, as if fending off a dangerous predator.

A funny and accurate analogy, if I do say so myself.

“Mate?” she asks, notable terror in her voice. Good. She should be afraid. Friend or not, she was going to hurt my mate. Hell, she might’ve hurt her already.

“Why else do you think I’ve been gone for so long?” I purr, stepping forward.

“I thought?—”

“Lies. You have no thoughts. I imagine it’s kind of lonely in that little head of yours.” I rap my knuckles against her forehead, and she winces, despite the fact I hardly applied pressure. Braelyn really has been an asset to the team. It’s such a shame I have to kill her. “You don’t ever question my decisions, Brae.” I tilt her chin up to meet her eyes directly. “I told you I would be gone for the foreseeable future. I told you the reasons were personal. You had one job to do and one job only: look after this place and my people.” I tighten my grip on her—not to the point of pain, but enough to get my point across.

“We came across an opportunity,” she stutters out. “Our sources told us that this girl is Blade’s lover?—”

“Shifters have been known to share their mate,” I cut in, giving her a pointed stare. Her eyes widen at my revelation, but smartly, she doesn’t respond. “From now on, we will work on making peace with Blade’s people. Blah, blah, blah. I’m boring myself with this talk.”

“Can we kill her?” Damien cuts in savagely.

I glance over my shoulder as the mage steps back into the room, dripping with blood. I didn’t even hear him leave. Interesting. He really lives up to his reputation: an esteemed serial killer and assassin. I’ll give him a solid five-star Yelp review.

“Did you just kill my last two inner circle members?” I ask, morbidly curious but not at all upset. I’m actually a little peeved I didn’t get to kill them myself. Sigh. Another day.

Damien shrugs once before moving towards Nina’s side. He lifts a hand, as if to stroke her hair before immediately lowering it. Instead, his eyes caress her body with a warmth that melts his frosty exposition. Awww. The little psychopath actually has a heart. I’m touched.

“Now, how should we kill you?” I muse, turning my attention back to Braelyn. She trembles, her fear contaminating the small, barren room. Fear always has a distinct scent—a heady combination of sweat and piss.

“Don’t,” a frail voice calls, and I spin towards Nina, my mate. Her blind eyes are open and staring at a spot on my shoulder. She opens her mouth, snaps it closed, and then opens it once more. “Don’t… Don”t kill her.”