Page 72 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
Suddenly, her eyes glow, the ground shakes, and the rocks blocking us in rattle against the entry. Slowly, one by one, they drop and roll across the cavern floor, rattling away the blockade trapping us.
Chapter Fifty-Five
A tremor courses through the stone underfoot, the world shaking as the weight of a mountain moves above us. My heart pounds in sync with the drumming of rocks against rock, the harsh clatter echoing the terror that clenches my gut. I watch as Leila stops when we hear the first crack, just as Kelly said. “You’ll know when you hear it.” Leila’s eyes dart to mine as if looking for confirmation that I heard it too. “Hurry, move faster,” she urges, but the second crack comes quickly.
I pass Lyon’s limp body to two women. “Use me!” I tell Leila while the coven stares at me oddly, trying to see through the dust. Leila grabs my arm, and I gasp as she weaves her magic. Tendrils of shimmering power extend from her fingertips, wrapping around the tumbling rocks, trying to hold back the mountain.
“But we mustn’t . . .” Her voice is barely a whisper in the chaos. Her eyes, emerald gems aglow with determination, flicker toward me. Not only that, but her magic wanes and swells like a struggling flame.
Then, something changes. With a determined grit of her teeth, she looks at me again. I feel a pull, an irresistible tug that anchors me to her. It’s like diving into an ice-cold ocean, sinking into the depths, gasping for air that’s not there. Suddenly, I’m not just watching her—I am part of her, tethered by threads of power, drawn into her magic. I feel her desperation, her strength, the pure magnitude of her power that shimmers around us.
“Get out of here, take them with you,” she says. The coven stares at her in shock, but Leila forces the surrounding witches to act, her voice commanding them. “Go!” she bellows, and an authority I’ve never seen flashes across her face. “Now!”
The hardest part is watching as her grandmother is dragged away, her hands outstretched toward us, her pleas reaching me just as her hands grip my arm. The despair in her eyes tears me apart, but I’m powerless, locked within Leila’s magic, unable to reach out.
“Don’t leave her,” her grandmother cries, her words piercing through the deafening noise. Her voice breaks, the sound of it a raw wound. “Promise me you won’t leave her. Promise you’ll get her out!”
“I won’t,” I reply, my voice echoing around us. “I won’t leave her.”
With a final regretful look, her hands are pried from my arm. She wails as she’s dragged away, leaving Leila and me alone among the chaos that will erupt the moment she drops her magic.
The world around us hangs in a deadly balance. Leila’s face, illuminated by the eerie glow of her magic, is ashen. After the first ten minutes, I see the strain on her. Sweat beads along her temples, and I watch the way her eyes squeeze shut. Her nose bleeds, and each drop of crimson is a chilling show of the brutal weight of her power. And yet, she holds on. There’s a desperate kind of resolve in her eyes, a fierceness that both scares and enthralls me.
“You must go,” she whispers, her voice worn thin, her gaze pleading.
“No,” I say, the finality in my voice echoing through the surrounding stillness. “Not without you.”
A shaky exhale escapes her lips as she falters, her knees threatening to give out. “I . . . I can hold on, Theron. Just . . . go.”
“I’ve been a bystander my whole life, Leila. I won’t be one now. I’m not abandoning you.”
A second later, a growl pulls my attention away from her and makes me turn. The remaining vampire guards are fleeing. I hastily get to my feet, which isn’t easy. Her channeling me drains my energy and makes me stumble as the guards advance toward us. The predatory gleam in their eyes is familiar, chillingly so.
“Stay behind me, Leila,” I command, stepping protectively in front of her. The beast within me stirs, responding to the threat. My hands curl into fists, my senses heighten, and my body prepares for the onslaught.
As the guards rush forward, I meet them head-on, my fists landing with ruthless ease. Each hit knocks them back.
A part of me knows that our chances are slim, but I refuse to surrender. I won’t leave Leila here to die alone, no one deserves that.
Between the crushing weight of the mountain threatening to come down on us and the relentless attacks of the guards, a brutal game of life and death teeters on the balance. Now It’s just waiting to see which kills us first, the guards or the crumbling mountain. Sweat pours down my face, my muscles scream in protest, and my breath comes in ragged gasps. But I hold on.
Chapter Fifty-Six
My veins thrum with the power of generations past. It courses through me, a river of ancestral magic so potent it feels as if I am being torn apart and stitched together at the same moment. The connection is profound, dizzying, and utterly terrifying. But through it all, I feel my granny’s comforting presence, her whispered words echoing within my very soul.
“You are a woman, Zirah,” her voice, soft yet steely, resonates within me. “You have a will that can move mountains, a heart that can calm the fiercest storm, and a spirit that can wage war against man and beast alike . . . and still, you stand as a queen, as High Priestess.”
The tunnel shakes around us, rubble falling like hail, but her words empower me, wrapping me in a cocoon of determination and resilience. With a shout, I channel this newfound strength and will the mountain to bend to me, mapping out the vast tunnels, feeling and looking. The vibrations fall to a hollow, revealing a hidden pathway, an alternate exit leading us to safety.
“This way,” I tell Regan at the fork we come to with the wolves at our heels. A loud crack echoes like thunder, making me stop. I peer up when Regan grabs my arms, only to hear another.
“Run,” Regan snarls, ripping me out of my stupor and pulling me down the tunnels. “Faster, Zirah,” Regan snaps, shoving me ahead. I stumble but pick up my pace as we race toward the glimmer of lights ahead. Breaking through the opening of the cave, I grip my knees trying to catch my breath, feeling relieved when I hear murmurs. Lifting my gaze, I see the coven, Zeke, and Lyon—who is still fighting instinct to fight and kill.
The taste of freedom is short-lived. Once we reach the coven, the sight that greets us is grim and full of despair and uncertainty. Zeke and Lyon.
“Where’s King Theron? Where’s Leila?” I demand, my gaze sweeping over the uneasy faces of the coven members. The silence that follows is damning. We’ve left two of our own in the mountain.
“They’re still in there?” Regan asks. “But they were with you,” he growls.
