Page 70 of The Midnight Death Match

The shadows still shift at the edges of the chamber. The unseen watcher remains silent.

But the wolves will return, and when they do, they’ll find this chamber empty.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

My heart poundsas I take in Harek’s physical condition. I have to move quickly to free him, but seeing my best friend in such bad shape is worse than a punch to the gut. I’d rather take a beating than for him to be like this.

Lys moves toward him, and that’s all it takes to snap me out of my stupor.

I run to Harek. Chains bite into his wrists, etched with faintly glowing runes. His breathing is shallow, but he lifts his head as I kneel beside him.

“Stay still.” I draw my blade.

His eyes widen. “I hope you know how to use that thing.”

I almost smile, but my throat tightens instead. “Try not to get yourself captured next time.”

The warded metal resists at first, but my blade flares faintly, then it slices through his restraints like cutting butter. The runes flicker and die one by one.

As the final chain falls away, Harek slumps forward.

My father catches him, bracing him upright. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Behind us, deep in the tunnels, the howls return. Closer this time. The pack has found our trail.

Lys glides forward, unnervingly calm. “They’re regrouping. The longer we stay, the more difficult your exit will be.”

I sling Harek’s arm over my shoulders as we half-carry him toward the narrow passage behind us. His weight presses against me, but somehow he manages to keep pace.

“Can you walk?” I ask.

“Yes. I’ll never let them see me crawl.”

I still let him lean on me, but he slowly takes more of his own weight on himself.

The tunnels squeeze tighter as we retreat, the walls vibrating with the low pulse of returning wolves. The oppressive weight of magic still hums through the air, but it’s weaker here. Less suffocating. It continues to improve as we slip deeper into the side passages Lys charted.

The faint scraping of claws echoes behind us. The wolves are closing in.

Einar throws a warded sigil across a narrow passage after we pass, sealing part of the tunnel behind us with a low pulse of blue light.

I’ll be happy if that buys us anything more than a few precious seconds. I doubt we’ll get even than that.

The unseen presence from earlier still lingers. I feel it trailing behind us like a cold breath against my spine. The passageway opens at last into a hollowed breach in the southern ridge, moonlight slicing thin across the exit.

My bones turn to rubber with relief. We’re free. Almost.

We break into the open air as the first shadows emerge behind us. The wolves don’t follow into the open. Not yet. We have to keep going. Can’t risk even a moment of rest for poor Harek.

We make it just past the ridge before we stop. It’s far enough to catch our breath, but not far enough to feel safe.

The trees stand like silent sentries, silvered in moonlight. The mountains’ jagged outlines press against the dark.

Harek leans against a boulder, breathing heavily, the bruises across his ribs darkening. His shirt is torn. Blood stains the collar. But his eyes are sharp again. My best friend is returning quicker than I expected.

Relief washes through me, and I want to throw my arms around him. But that will have to wait for later.

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