POV Natalie
Consciousness hits me like a freight train made of pure agony. My head feels like someone used it for batting practice, and there’s this metallic taste in my mouth that’s either blood or the lingering aftermath of whatever knocked me out.
I try to move and immediately realize I’m fucked.
Silver chains. Of course. Because regular restraints would be too easy for a vampire, right? The metal burns against my skin like liquid fire, sending waves of weakness through my entire system.
The room I’m in looks like something from a medieval torture manual. Stone walls, no windows, and the delightful aroma of centuries-old suffering. Really setting the mood for whatever fresh hell I’ve landed in.
“Good. You’re awake.”
Björn’s voice cuts through my assessment of the décor. He’s standing in the doorway like some kind of discount supervillain, and honestly? The whole dramatic entrance thing is getting old.
“Let me guess,” I say, because apparently near-death experiences don’t cure my smart mouth. “This is where you tell me your evil plan before torturing me for information I don’t have?”
“Oh, I’m not interested in information.” His smile is the stuff nightmares are made of. “I’m interested in breaking you.”
Before I can ask what the fuck that means, he turns a valve on the wall.
Water starts streaming from pipes I didn’t even notice, and the second it hits my skin, I’m screaming.
Not just any water. Running water. Holy water, maybe, or blessed by some pack shaman—I don’t know and I don’t care because it feels like acid eating through my flesh.
The pain is indescribable. Like every nerve in my body is being electrocuted while simultaneously being set on fire. I’m convulsing against the chains, which only makes the silver burn worse, which makes me convulse more.
“Stop!” I scream, but my voice cracks and comes out as this pathetic whimper.
“Are you ready to listen?”
The water stops. I’m gasping, shaking, trying to process the fact that I’m still alive despite feeling like my skin just tried to divorce itself from my body.
“Avery—” I start, because she’s the only coherent thought I can manage.
“Will save you?” Björn laughs, and it’s the ugliest sound I’ve ever heard. “Bold of you to assume your enemy—the one who was literally supposed to kill you—is going to risk everything to save you.”
The words hit harder than the water did. Because he’s not wrong. Why would she save me? I was sent to capture her. She was sent to capture me. We’ve been playing this twisted game from the beginning.
“She’s not my enemy,” I whisper, but even I can hear how desperate it sounds.
“She’s not your friend either. She’s a tool. A weapon pointed at your heart by people who understand exactly how to manipulate your weaknesses.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” He moves closer, and I can smell the violence on him like cheap cologne. “Let me tell you a story, little bloodsucker. About how this whole war between our species started.”
The water starts again. I scream until my throat goes raw.
“Fifty years ago,” he continues conversationally, like I’m not currently being dissolved alive, “there was peace. Tentative, fragile, but real. Vampires and werewolves had learned to coexist.”
Stop. Please stop.
“But peace is boring. Peace doesn’t consolidate power or eliminate rivals or create the kind of chaos necessary for someone like me to rise to the top.”
The water stops. I’m sobbing now, tears mixing with whatever’s left of my dignity.
“So I orchestrated a few… incidents. A vampire attack on a werewolf family here. A werewolf massacre at a vampire gathering there. Nothing too obvious. Just enough to reignite old hatreds.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? How do you think I knew exactly where to find you tonight? How do you think I knew about your little romance? I’ve been watching. Waiting. Planning.”
My blood goes cold. “The summit.”
“My handiwork. Beautiful, wasn’t it? Both sides sending their problem children with orders to sabotage the peace talks. I made sure the violence was spectacular enough to cement the hatred for another generation.”
The pieces click together with the sound of my world imploding. The convenient timing. The perfect orchestration. The way everything went to hell just when Avery and I were starting to figure things out.
“You killed those wolves.”
“I killed everyone I needed to kill to ensure the war continues. Wolves. Vampires. Doesn’t matter to me.” His smile gets wider. “Do you want to know the best part?”
I don’t, but he’s going to tell me anyway.
“My wives. The ones who died so tragically. They weren’t accidents.” He leans closer, and his breath smells like decay. “They were sacrifices. Blood offerings to an old god who grants power to those willing to pay the price.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m effective. Every dead mate makes me stronger. More influential. Better able to shape the world according to my vision.”
“And Avery?”
“Will be number five. But not until she’s given me an heir or two. Waste not, want not.”
The casual way he talks about murdering her makes something snap inside me. The pain, the fear, the hopelessness—all of it crystallizes into pure, undiluted rage.
“You’re a piece of shit!”