Page 68 of The Midnight Death Match
I suck in a shallow breath. “Yeah.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Take a deep breath.”
I give him a doubtful glance. “You can’t be serious.”
“While I’m no shifter, I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with strong hunter urges. Trust me, it helps.”
To humor him, I take a deep breath. Surprisingly, it does help a little.
He insists I take a few more, and then if nothing else, I’m at least distracted enough to carry on.
The last curve of the tunnel opens into a cavernous chamber, half-collapsed like the entrance, but still thrumming faintly with power. The smell of damp stone mingles with old blood, and old etchings glow faintly.
It has to be the rogue den.
I swallow hard as my eyes adjust, then I take another deep breath.
Einar gives me a knowing look.
At the center of the chamber, shackled against a jagged stone pillar, is Harek.
My chest tightens at the sight of him. His wrists and ankles are bound with heavy, enchanted chains etched with unfamiliar symbols. His head hangs low, but his chest rises in slow, steady breaths.
He’s still alive. But barely, from the looks of it.
I lunge for him.
Einar stops me, a steadying backward pull. “Not yet.”
“Are you crazy?”
“It’s a trap. There’s no way it’s this easy.”
“You call going through those tunnelseasy?”
Lys studies the perimeter. “They left him exposed. Your father’s right. It’s a lure, of course.”
Disappointment hits me. “They know I’ll come for him.”
“They know you already have.” Lys’s voice stays soft, eyes narrowing. “And they also know we’re here.”
The hairs on my arms rise. Suddenly, the den feels wrong. Not just because of Harek or because of the rogue pack’s lingering magic.
It’s something else.
A presence. Someone is watching, but from where? There isn’t anywhere to hide. A hole in one of the walls, perhaps?
I scan the darkness at the edges of the chamber, my pulse on fire. The collapsed tunnels, the broken archways…
I see nothing other than shadows.
Yet I can’t deny the feeling making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand tall.
Could it be the curse itself? Or something worse? Anything is possible at this point.
