Chapter 106

Evelyn

Emma’s smirk faltered over time as we waited. Time stretched on and on, and an awkward silence had settled into the empty room as we waited for the rogue Emma had sent to return with Logan.

At first, the impatience on Emma was subtle. It was in the twitch of her lip, the way her eyes darted toward the door as though she could will him into existence any second now. Her lips pursed, her discomfort as time stretched on becoming more and more visible. With each minute that passed, her mask cracked a little more.

“Strange,” she muttered under her breath, though she tried to sound unaffected. “Logan must have been very busy.”

But I could see the unease seeping into her features. This wasn’t going the way she’d hoped.

My stomach churned. She was hiding something; that much was obvious. I could feel it like humidity in the air, heavy and oppressive. If Logan had truly chosen her, if he’d willingly abandoned me, wouldn’t he have come the instant she called upon him? My heart thudded with a new kind of hope, fragile but growing. Every minute that passed and made Emma squirm was more evidence to bolster my suspicions.

“It doesn’t seem like he was all that eager to come,” I pointed out. I was unable to resist this prodding.

Emma’s eyes narrowed, her smugness twisting into irritation. “You doubt me?”

“I only have to wonder why he would not jump upon the opportunity to clear things up and claim you if he was as eager as you claimed. But I guess he is just too busy, as you said.”

For the first time, she hesitated. I saw her fingers tighten on the armrests of that dingy chair, the faint shift in her stance. She was nervous.

My pulse quickened. It was more evidence of my assumption.

“Let me fetch him,” I said.

“No!” Emma snapped too quickly.

“If he has chosen against me, you have nothing to fear. I will not harm him or you. There is no need for blades or violence.”

I twisted away from the rogue holding the blade to me with some effort. But when Emma didn’t insist on the rogue resuming her stance, I was free to stride to the door.

“Let me go and find him so we can end this,” I said.

Emma reached out, trying to block me. “Wait—”

But I had already yanked the door wide.

My breath caught immediately.

Logan stood there, framed by the old wooden doorway, looking depleted.

He was bound, blood streaking his face and chest. His body had slumped slightly over his manacled hands, but his eyes were dark with fury and blazing with life.

So much became evident in a few heartbeats. He was alive. And he had been held captive.

He hadn’t chosen Emma after all.

“Logan…” My voice cracked.

Behind me, the rogue holding a knife to my throat stiffened in shock at his sudden appearance. And in that split second of distraction, my body moved on instinct. I knew that we couldn’t hesitate any longer. A million conclusions were made in an eyeblink.

I spun and lunged for Emma.

She cried out as I slammed her against the wall, the impact rattling the wooden frame of the house. I held my hands to her throat, squeezing until her eyes popped wide.

I pressed down hard with all of my anger, months of frustration, and slights building upon each other and leading to this moment. I choked her until her face turned red, then purple.

But then there was a wet gurgle and a thud from behind me.

I turned just in time to see Logan, still shackled and bloodied, twist his bound hands around the rogue’s throat and snap it with brutal efficiency. She collapsed to the floor, lifeless, and he stood over her, chest heaving, eyes locked on me.

I pressed harder against Emma’s throat, my claws slipping forward to add fresh pressure. My breath hot with fury. I had never felt so angry in my life.

“She dies tonight,” I concluded.

Emma made a horrible choking sound, trying to squirm free and claw at my hands, but I held her fast.

Logan’s voice cut through the haze of my rage. “No, not tonight. Not yet.”

My head snapped back toward him. “She deserves it!”

“I agree. And she’ll get it,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “Trust me. But not here. Not like this. I want the world to see. We need to make an example out of her. I want them all to know what happens to those who cross us. Her death will mean nothing in secret.”

He took a step toward me, putting a placating hand on my shoulder. “And you are a healer besides, Evelyn. Not a killer. Don’t become one now when her death can serve a greater purpose.”

His eyes held mine, steady and unyielding. And I knew that he was right.

My wolf snarled, furious at the thought of letting Emma live a second longer. My claws pricked her skin enough to draw blood, and she whimpered again.

Now we would both wear blood on our necks.

It would be so easy to end her. So easy to silence her forever. It was so, so tempting.

But Logan’s gaze anchored me. As much as I hated it, as much as every fiber of my being screamed for vengeance, killing her here would rob us of the chance to make her downfall matter.

Slowly, with a growl of frustration, I pulled back. Emma sagged, gasping and wheezing for air.

I leaned in close. “Enjoy every breath while you still have it,” I whispered. “Because when it ends, the whole world will be watching. This is over now, Emma. You’re finished.”

Her lips trembled, and fear colored her bloodshot eyes. Her smugness had shattered at last.

I stepped back. For now, I let Logan’s plan hold me. But deep in my chest, my wolf still snarled one truth: Emma’s life was already over. It was only a matter of when.

Scott

I woke to the sound of breathing that wasn’t mine. It didn’t sound like Logan’s labored breaths either.

At the unfamiliar noise, my eyes snapped open. A female rogue was crouched across the cell instead of Logan, watching me with a hesitant expression. She seemed almost fearful. I wished she had looked more scared, but I’m sure I posed a pitiful picture. Perhaps she thought I was still weak from the drugs they’d pumped into me and the injury from the arm they had taken.

And perhaps I should have been. But my will to survive was stronger.

My hand shot up, gripping her wrist before she could even think to react. She gasped, eyes wide, but I didn’t give her the chance to scream. With a violent twist, I slammed her against the bars, her skull cracking against iron. She struggled, snarling, but I was stronger. I slammed her head back again and again. And again.

Finally, she stopped fighting me. Stopped moving altogether.

My chest heaved. The smell of blood filled the cell, sharp and metallic. I didn’t waste another breath on her.

I turned to the bars, my pulse hammering. The lock wasn’t much. In fact, it looked like a cheap, rusted thing. All I needed was something small to needle through it. Fortunately, the female rogue had pinned her hair up.

She wouldn’t need the pin anymore, that was for sure. I freed it from her hair and slid over to the lock. It took an admittedly long time of playing with the lock and pin, fiddling with it, twisting and forcing as I listened. But eventually, just as I was about to despair, I heard a click.

The door creaked open on rusted hinges.

I gasped, then laughed incredulously. I was free.

And I didn’t hesitate, not for a moment. This was my one opportunity, and I knew it.

So I ran.

Branches tore at my arms, roots caught at my worn boots, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had had to keep running. Determination drove me, solidifying something hard and unmovable in my chest.

I would keep running and fighting, that was a promise. I would keep going until every last one of the people involved paid for putting me in that cage.