The lock shattered under my hands.
I didn't know I had that kind of strength. Didn't know the White Wolf could lend me her power even before I'd fully shifted. But the metal bent like paper, and then I was running—down the hallway, down the stairs, my bare feet slapping against stone.
The dungeon entrance was guarded by a single Delta. He saw me coming and reached for his radio, but I was faster. My hand closed around his wrist, and I felt bones grind together under my grip. He dropped to his knees with a choked sound.
"The key," I said.
He gave it to me.
The dungeon smelled like mold and old fear. The stairs went down forever, each step colder than the last, and by the time I reached the bottom my breath was coming out in white clouds.
Kaizen's cell was at the end of the corridor.
I knew before I opened the door. Knew from the silence. Knew from the way the air felt too still, too empty.
He was lying on the stone floor, his body curled on its side like he'd been trying to get warm. His lips were blue. His eyes were open.
I dropped to my knees beside him and pulled him into my lap. His skin was ice-cold, his chest utterly still.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no—"
I pressed my hands to his chest, tried to push healing energy into him the way I'd been taught, but there was nothing there. No spark. No life. Just cold flesh and empty eyes staring at nothing.
"Kaizen, please—"
His hand twitched.
I grabbed it, pressed it between both of mine. "I'm here. I'm here, I've got you—"
His lips moved. The sound that came out was barely a whisper, more breath than voice.
"Burn it," he said.
I leaned closer, my forehead pressed against his. "What?"
"Burn it all... down."
His hand went limp in mine.
I sat there for a long time, holding my brother's body in the dark. I didn't cry. Couldn't cry. There was something hard and cold forming in my chest where my heart used to be, something that felt like the White Wolf's teeth.
The mate bond with Callan was still there, that golden thread connecting us. But it felt different now. Rotten. Necrotic. Like a wound that had festered too long.
I laid Kaizen down gently, crossed his hands over his chest. Then I stood.
There was a torch burning in a bracket on the wall. I took it down and held the flame to the hem of my dress until it caught. Watched the fire crawl up the fabric. Then I dropped it on the floor and walked out, leaving my brother's body in the cell.
Let them find him. Let them see what they'd done.
I had work to do.
---
I left the pack territory before dawn, carrying nothing but a small vial of Kaizen's ashes that I'd scraped from the dungeon floor and a silver dagger I'd stolen from the armory. The guards at the border were changing shifts. No one saw me slip through.
The Neutral Zone was a three-hour walk through the forest. By the time I reached the edge of pack lands, my feet were bleeding and my dress was in tatters, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
The White Wolf paced inside me, restless and hungry.
*Soon,* I told her. *Soon.*
The tavern was exactly where Elara had told me it would be, years ago when I'd healed her pup and she'd whispered secrets in gratitude. A squat building made of gray stone, sitting at the crossroads where three territories met and none had jurisdiction.
I pushed open the door.
The interior was dark and smelled like stale beer and wet dog. A dozen pairs of eyes turned toward me—Rogues, mostly, and a few Omegas who'd been cast out. The kind of wolves who had nothing left to lose.
I walked to the bar.
The woman behind it was ancient, her face a map of scars and wrinkles. She looked at me for a long moment, then her eyes widened.
"Little healer," Elara said softly. "What did they do to you?"
"I need to find him," I said. My voice sounded strange. Flat. "The Shadow King."
She went very still. "That's not a name you speak lightly."
"I know what he is." I leaned forward, my hands flat on the bar. "I know he's the late Alpha's bastard. I know he has Lycan blood. I know he was exiled for being too powerful." I met her eyes. "And I know he wants revenge just as badly as I do."
Elara studied me. Then she reached under the bar and pulled out a scrap of paper, scribbled an address.
"He's in the Wild Lands," she said. "Three days north. But child—" She caught my wrist as I reached for the paper. "The Shadow King doesn't help people out of kindness. If you go to him, you'll owe him. And his debts are paid in blood."
I took the paper.
"Good," I said. "So are mine."
