Emin roared.
The sound was a physical wave of Lycan fury. It rattled the car's glass in its frame.
"You arrogant waste of light! You dare trespass on Ironwood land?"
Damaris the Black didn't flinch.
He stood perfectly still, his pale grey eyes locked on Ravenna. His mental voice returned, cold and smooth, ignoring the Alpha's threat entirely.
I am here for the variable, little Hybrid. The property of prophecy. And you, Alpha, are in violation of multiple Coven pacts.
Emin didn't care about pacts.
He yanked the car door open and charged the shimmering blue barrier. He slammed into it with the force of a full-grown Lycan.
Thud.
The only result was a low thrum of power and a flash of light.
He tried to tear at it with his bare hands. The golden light of his shift bled into his skin, claws lengthening, seeking purchase.
Damaris sighed. An audible sound of tedious annoyance.
"Such a tiresome lack of grace."
He raised one gloved hand. He didn't chant. He didn't posture. He simply... thought.
A thread of pure, dark magic shot out.
It wasn't aimed at Emin's body. It went straight for his mind. A silent, agonizing control spell designed to hijack a Lycan's primal focus.
Emin froze mid-snarl.
His golden eyes glazed over. He dropped to his knees, clutching his head with a guttural, choked sound.
The spell severed the Lycan's link to his own discipline.
Ravenna watched, horrified.
The Mate Bond pulled her violently toward the downed Alpha. A deep, shared shame washed over her through the connection.
But then, Damaris's power—cold, sharp and clinical, pulled her just as strongly in the opposite direction.
The Warlock was winning.
Damaris finally turned his attention to her.
He stepped through his own barrier as if it were vapor. He opened her car door with a bored flourish.
"The Alpha's method is crude," Damaris said. His real voice was low and melodic. "Mine is merely necessary."
He reached for her hand.
His touch was cold and dry. The complete opposite of Emin's burning grip.
It didn't send a jolt of primal lust through her. It sent a spike of intellectual terror.
"Don't touch me," Ravenna whispered, scrambling away across the leather seat.
"Irrelevant," Damaris replied.
He pulled her out.
"You are an unstable variable that just announced itself to every dark creature in the region. I cannot afford to let you be destroyed. Nor can I allow the Lycan brute to contaminate your magic with his barbarism."
He glanced at Emin.
The Alpha was still kneeling, muscles trembling, his mind struggling against the Warlock's leash.
"You see? He seeks to dominate. I seek to optimize."
Damaris turned back to her.
"You will come with me to the Coven Spires. We will study the prophecy, analyze your power, and secure your place as the key to our victory. You will be safe. Predictable. Invaluable."
He saw the fear in her eyes. He gave her a chillingly fake smile.
"A much better existence than being the pet Luna of that creature."
Damaris's transportation was as clean and efficient as his magic. No rough SUV ride.
He led Ravenna a short distance away from the road, ignoring the struggling Alpha.
He performed a single, complex gesture.
A shimmering, nearly invisible portal opened in the shadows beneath a mossy archway.
"Step through, little Hybrid," he commanded. "The air on the Coven side is cleaner."
Ravenna hesitated.
The cold promise of optimization sounded far worse than the hot threat of purification.
"What if I won't?" she challenged, finding a sliver of defiance.
Damaris's expression didn't change. His grey eyes narrowed slightly.
He didn't threaten to hurt her. Instead, he simply tapped into the bond.
A wave of logical despair crashed into Ravenna.
It was a crushing realization. She was powerless. She was chaotic. His solution was the only reasonable path.
She stumbled. The weight of his logic crushed her will.
Damaris didn't need physical force. He used her fear of her own chaos against her.
He's right, she thought, the idea planted deep in her brain. I'm dangerous. He can contain me.
She walked through the portal.
The Coven territory was the exact opposite of the Wilds.
They emerged into a wide, sterile corridor that smelled of polished stone and ancient parchment. They were deep within the Shadowed Spires, the intellectual heart of Warlock power.
He took her to a laboratory that looked more like an art museum. White, sterile and cold.
He locked her in a chamber with walls lined with complex, arcane runes.
A magical cage. Designed to prevent her volatile Hybrid power from exploding.
"Rest now, Ravenna," Damaris said, stepping out.
He sealed the door with a soundless lock. "We will begin your education tomorrow."
Ravenna sank onto the cold stone bench.
She fought the urge to smash something. She wasn't just angry. She was profoundly violated.
Emin's claim was a primitive threat. But Damaris's control was a quiet erasure of her will.
I am not a tool, she thought. I am not a weapon. And I will not be anyone's Luna or their laboratory sample.
She pressed her hands against the cold runes on the wall.
She could feel the immense power holding her captive. She focused on the chaos inside her, trying to summon a tiny spark. Just enough to sizzle the lock.
Nothing.
Damaris's wards were perfect.
She looked around the room. On a small pedestal sat a gleaming, bronze orb. An energy scryer.
It was monitoring her power levels. Watching. Analyzing. Categorizing.
"I need to get out," she whispered fiercely. "I need to breathe."
Suddenly, the monitoring orb on the pedestal flickered.
Ravenna blinked. She sat bolt upright.
It wasn't a powerful surge. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible interruption. A brief static burst that lasted less than a second.
Then, she heard it.
A noise that didn't belong in the quiet of the Warlock Spires.
Crash.
The distinct sound of shattered glass from somewhere close by.
Followed by a low, musical, totally cynical whistle.
It wasn't Emin's rage. It wasn't Damaris's control. It sounded like pure, happy disrespect for all authority.
Thwack.
A sharp, silver object, no bigger than a dart, flew through a tiny, unnoticed vent near the ceiling.
It embedded itself precisely into the monitoring orb.
The orb sparked once. Shuddered. And died.
A moment later, a low, scratchy voice cut through the quiet. It was laced with contempt and amusement.
And it was too close to be coming from outside.
"Seems they got you trapped pretty good, little witch."
Ravenna froze.
"But only two kinds of people put up with chains," the voice drawled. "Sheep, and the dead."
The voice belonged to someone dangerous. Someone quite uncontrolled. Someone who had just expertly broken the Warlock's perfect wards.
Ravenna's pulse hammered with a new emotion.
It felt like excitement.
Her two despotic mates had just created an opening for the third.