Page 110 of Dark Awakening

"He took her, and so now I'm going to get her back, using any means fucking necessary. And once I have, I fully intend to rip his goddamn throat out myself!"

Just then, Lucian comes breezing into the room, reeking of cloyingly floral perfume. Oblivious to the tension saturating the air, he has the absolute gall to flash me a playful, flirtatious wink. "So sorry I'm late to the party, gentlemen. I'm afraid I got rather delightfully distracted by a particularly lovely barmaid downstairs."

I fix him with a genuinely scathing, withering look. "Now is not the fucking time for your bullshit theatrics, Lucian," I snarl. "Danica is with a bunch of murderous psychopath mutts. So please enlighten me why in the hell you seem to think a jocular tone is appropriate right now?"

Lucian's teasing expression instantly morphs into one of sincere contrition. He quickly holds up both palms in a gesture of peace and apology. "Those reprehensible heathens are holed up somewhere remote in the Cascades, correct?" he asks, all joking aside.

At my short nod of confirmation, his jaw locks tightly, a storm brewing in his eyes.

"Well, tickle my taint. It looks like we have a wolf hunt in our future, boys."

Erik stands swiftly, posture radiating authority and command. "It's decided then. We mobilize and depart the moment dusk falls. No excuses."

In the endless hours left until sunset, I'm trapped at the mercy of my thoughts. New visions of the depraved tortures and violations Danica could be enduring at this very moment continue to savage my mind without reprieve.

Is Azrael himself somehow involved in this plot as well? Is Marcus acting on direct orders from him? Or has he gone rogue? And most terrifying of all—what the hell could they want with her? These questions echo and scream out relentlessly inside my head, amplified by maddening helplessness.

Come nightfall, I will hunt for my angel.

Danica

57

The dank, musty air of the cellar feels oppressive as weak daylight filters through cracks in the wooden boards, casting feeble strips of illumination on the cold, damp ground. I blink slowly, my vision swimming as I struggle against the restraints binding me to the rusty chair. My head throbs relentlessly, and my mind is still fogged from whatever shit they injected into me.

I groan, my voice barely a rasped whisper as I strain futilely against the ropes digging cruelly into my wrists and ankles. Sick panic rises within me, my heart racing uncontrolled, as the terrifying gravity of my situation sets in. I have got to get the fuck out of here. No telling what these sadistic werewolf bastards have planned for me.

The loud creak of a heavy door echoes through the cellar, and my eyes widen in renewed fear as Marcus, the ruthless alpha leader of the pack, strides into view. His cold gaze meets mine, a twisted grin spreading on his lips.

"Well, well...look who's finally awake," he sneers, voice dripping maliciously.

My throat constricts, each swallow feeling like I'm forcing down razor blades. My muffled cries of desperation are met only with his mocking smile.

"What's that, girlie?" he taunts, exaggeratedly cupping his hand to his ear. "I can't quite hear your pathetic whimpering down there."

I writhe and twist uselessly against the ropes, every muscle burning in protest. Suddenly, he lunges down, viciously ripping the tape from my mouth in one savage motion. White-hot pain explodes, but I summon every ounce of defiance left inside me.

"What the hell do you want from me, you sick bastard?" I scream, my voice wavering uncontrollably.

Marcus slowly circles the chair like a predator toying with cornered prey, his heavy footsteps echoing through the confined space.

"You're a rare prize, my dear. One Azrael is most eager to acquire. Which makes you very useful leverage for me," he spits, eyes glinting with cruel excitement.

"Leverage for what?" I demand, my anger and frustration fueling my courage. "What could that snake possibly offer you?"

A sinister chuckle escapes Marcus's lips at my questions. "Let's just say he has something of great value that belongs to me. Something I aim to take back."

I grit my teeth as understanding dawns, the pieces of his vile game falling into place. "You're a goddamn fool if you think that bastard will just hand anything over to you."

Marcus throws his head back, laughing coldly at my response, the sound reverberating through the cellar and sending dread slithering down my spine.

"No, you naive little bitch," he says, amusement lacing his words. "Azrael's hunger for power is unmatched. And you..." He inhales deeply as if trying to catch some scent in the air. "You possess a kind of power he craves desperately."

My body tenses involuntarily at his words, a coil of unease twisting in my gut. I force my voice to remain steady, determined to gain any information I can. "What could he possibly have that's so valuable you'd exchange my life for it?"

Marcus resumes his slow, deliberate pacing, considering my question. After a few endless minutes, he drags a creaky wooden chair from the corner into the center of the room and sinks down into it. Even seated, his imposing, muscular frame dominates the small space. He leans forward, regarding me intently.

"Many years ago, Azrael and I made a solemn pact. A blood oath," he begins. "In exchange for granting me the dark power and strength to protect my pack, I promised to deliver a certain precious artifact to him. One of great worth."

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