Page 17 of Captive Witch

Brent stands against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching the six other hunters on his team lounging about the living room and joking with each other.

I walk to the stairs, feeling along the back of the first baluster until I find the small button no bigger than a pen cap and press it. There’s a click before the wall next to me on the other side of the stairs falls in slightly. Frank whistles behind me, signaling to the hunters to follow us. Following the dark hall, we’re led to my office, hidden below ground. There’s no other entrance into this area of the house, no cellar doors or windows. It isn’t on any blueprints or the house design. It’s the safe room I would’ve told Adara to get to before Monique showed up, if I could’ve told her before everything happened. The one Frank would’ve hid her in, if he’d have known it wasn’t me that day.

Sighing, I push the useless thoughts aside and take a seat at the long oval table. Waving my hand at the hunters, they each take a seat, Brent and Frank flanking me. “Report.”

“There isn’t much to report currently,” Brent says. “Aramin was spotted on her way to feral territory early last week, but never made it there. She hasn’t been seen since. Her wolf hasn’t been spotted anywhere, and her scent has all but disappeared.” He looks down the table. “Anything to add to that side of the report?”

Silence. My jaw clenches, my teeth aching.

Brent sighs and scratches his brow. “Unfortunately, I have even less to report on Monique. She’s been not spotted, scented, or heard of since leaving here, but if she can transform as well as we’ve seen…” He shrugs. “I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.”

I slam my fist onto the table. “Nothing? You havenothingafter hunting for a week?”

The hunters around the table barely flinch, all avoiding eye contact and staring at the table before them.

“Someone better have something, or you’re all reassigned,” I snarl.

“We do,” Brent says, “about the council.”

I scoff, shoving away from the table and moving to the shelves along the back wall. Grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey, I pour myself a double.

“Only two councilmen are alive—Rathmann and Grant. We believe the others were killed by witches.” Brent’s voice is quiet, which only stirs the rage inside me more.

“Witches?” Frank asks. “Why?”

Brent clears his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I… well, their bodies…” He sighs. “They were deformed. Some burned, some… twisted. Some were discolored. One even glowed.”

“But Rathmann and Grant are alive. You’re sure?” Frank asks, stroking his beard as Brent nods. “Interesting.”

Lowering back into my seat at the head of the table, I drink half my glass and wait for Frank to explain. My patience is wearing thin quickly, and I slam my glass on the table, whiskey splashing over the side. “Interestingwhy?”

Frank laughs under his breath. “Interesting because it’s only the two who were working directly with another that survived. Rathmann was involved with Aramin. Grant with Monique. All four are under our radar.”

Narrowing my gaze at him, I tap my fingers on the table. “You think they’re working all together?”

Frank shrugs. “If not all together, then at least in the two pairs, though not sure how Aramin would kill any councilman like that if she’s only working with Rathmann.”

I turn to Brent. “Where were the dead councilmen found?”

He looks down the table. “Parker, where’d you and Victor find them?”

Parker, a man with carrot orange hair buzzed close to his head, looks over Brent, locking his eyes on me. “The bodies were found near the Vermont-New Hampshire border, north of Littleton. They were tucked into the snowcaps, not well hidden honestly.”

“Deliberate, then.” I rub a hand over my eyes, frustration brewing inside me. “Tracking Aramin was like chasing the wind. Every time I caught a scent, it blew off and disappeared. It was a wild goose chase. A complete waste of my gods damn time.” I fling my arm across the table, sending the glass of whiskey flying into the cement wall and shattering. “New mission. Adara is going to visit her sister at the witches’ academy. One of you needs to be assigned to her, monitoring her at all times. I want to know where she is, what she’s doing, and if anyone else is tracking her. Understood? Brent, I want that assignment by tonight.”

Each man around the table nods.

“Good. Dismissed.”

Settling back into my chair, I watch as each hunter leaves until only Frank and Brent are left beside me.

“You really think all four could be working together?” I ask, my eyes glued to the dark, empty hallway.

Frank’s lips purse, and he runs a hand through his hair. “It sounds far-fetched, but… I don’t know. Something tells me it isn’t impossible. We shouldn’t rule it out.”

“Fine. Make sure the rest of the hunters are split into two teams. Half for Aramin, half for Monique. If those trails continue to come up dry, switch gears. Try tracking Rathmann and Grant instead.”

“You got it, boss,” Brent answers, rising from the table. “I’ll inform them all now.”

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