CHAPTER SEVEN
1208 Words
SELENE
Around thirty minutes past ten, I finally slipped past the men Draven stationed outside my door—shadows cloaked in flesh and muscle, breathing down my neck day and night like loyal hounds.
The air was crisp and damp, laced with the faint scent of cedar and stone. I was cloaked in a long black hood that swayed with every hurried step, pants stolen from the lavish wardrobe he so proudly gifted me, and black high-heeled boots that clicked softly against the cobbled ground as I darted into the night.
Nightbane was nothing like the Royal City.
Perched along the mountainside, the city twisted and layered like a maze carved into the rock. The streets were clean, expertly paved with marble and smooth tarmac. Every building mirrored the next—grey-bricked facades, flat roofs, and silver railings—almost too perfect. The only structure that broke the rhythm was his castle.
How anyone found their home here was beyond me.
But what truly caught my eye was the people.
Humans and wolves. Together. Not separated like in Royal City where blood determined your rank. Here, there was no visual hierarchy. No golden-threaded capes for wolves. No plain robes for humans. They mingled—traded, laughed, and even argued as equals.
Jessicah told me I could spot the Clock House no matter where I stood. “It’s the one place that refuses to blend in,” she’d said.
After nearly an hour of wandering the winding streets of Guilden, I finally saw it—tall and narrow, standing at the west edge like a watchful tower. Unlike the buildings surrounding it, the Clock House was painted a deep mahogany with golden gears turning on its outer walls, glowing faintly under the moonlight.
Just as I approached, a child stepped in front of me. She wore a simple blue robe and had the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
“Miss, care for some hot buns?” she asked sweetly, holding up a basket that steamed in the cold air.
I shook my head gently. “No thank you.”
I passed her, but I could feel the weight of eyes—watching me from windows, alley corners, and rooftops. It was like the city knew I didn’t belong. Like it could smell my desperation.
“You made it.”
Ducklein’s voice floated from the shadows near the Clock House, low and sharp like a dagger being drawn.
I turned swiftly.
He leaned against the cold stone, arms crossed, his smirk dangerous and unreadable.
“You said you could help me,” I said, steadying my breath as I took a step closer. “How do I get out of here?”
Ducklein didn’t move. He only chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “So quick to jump to the end, little sister-in-law.”
Before I could respond, he was behind me—so fast it made my skin crawl.
“I swear to God…” I whispered under my breath, heart thudding. This city was teeming with terrifying creatures.
“Getting into Nightbane is easy,” he murmured, voice right beside my ear. “But getting out?” His breath brushed my neck. “That’s the real fun.”
He stepped around me and held out a small, flat object. A black plate. No writing. No seal. Just cold metal.
“There are only four exits in all of Nightbane,” he said, placing the plate in my hand. “And all of them require passing cards issued by the crown. Guess who holds all of them?”
He grinned, eyes dancing with mockery.
“My brother.”
I swallowed hard.
“Ever since he took over, this city changed. Surveillance. Regulation. Control.” He clicked his tongue. “Still…”
His voice dropped to a purr, dark and chilling.
“There is a way.”
My fingers curled around the plate tightly. “What do you mean?” I asked, eyes narrowing.
“There are only two official exits,” Ducklein continued smoothly. “One—by air. Planes that fly once a week to Royal City. I doubt you have the clearance.” He smirked. “The other—through the Lost Plains.”
My breath hitched.
I’d seen dread in the Lost Plains.
“You’re saying getting out is impossible?”
Ducklein chuckled darkly, his laughter echoing through the narrow street.
“No, darling. I’m saying the known exits are impossible. Doesn’t mean others don’t exist.”
Then, without warning, his arm draped around my shoulders. His fingers slid to my throat—not threateningly, but with a possessive chill. His chin rested gently against my shoulder.
“Take the plate,” he whispered. “Head east from here. There’s a small town nestled on the border. Tonight, a bus departs from the Greyhound lot. Get on it.”
“Then what?” I breathed, barely able to hold his gaze.
“Check in at an inn called Rubis,” he said, his tone turning low and smooth. “Wait for me there. I’ll find you.”
It had been a full day since I checked into the room at the Rubis Inn.
The moment I flashed the black plate at the front desk, no questions were asked. Just a key, a nod, and silence. Ducklein’s name must’ve held more weight in this place than I realized.
I kept to myself, curtains drawn, lights off. Every creak of the floorboards outside made my heart race. Every gust of wind felt like it carried whispers meant only for me. He told me to wait. To hide. And I had done just that—until now.
The sky had dimmed to the soft gray of early evening when I finally dared to open the window. Just a crack, just enough to let in air.
And then—I saw them.
My heart leapt so fast I almost stumbled.
Kaith and James.
Standing just across the street. Right below my window. Their heads turned toward a passerby, lips moving rapidly, probably asking questions. Kaith’s coat was dusted with travel, his expression hard and focused. James looked just as worn, his brows furrowed with worry.
Relief surged through me, bursting like light through a dam.
My hands shot up, my mouth already parting with a breathless, “Kaith!”
But before the sound left me, an arm shot out from behind the heavy curtain. A rough hand clamped over my mouth, dragging me back into the room with terrifying force.
My scream came out muffled as a thick cloth was shoved against my face. The pungent, acidic smell of chemicals hit my nostrils—a septic, numbing scent that clung to my throat.
“No—” I tried to twist away, but the grip only tightened.
“Come on, little wolf,” a voice rasped beside my ear, wicked and familiar. “Breathe in for me.”
Draven.
His voice was silk soaked in poison, laced with triumph.
“I caught you, little wolf.”
The last thing I saw before my vision blurred was Kaith turning sharply, his head snapping up toward my window.
I wanted to scream, wave but..
Too late.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
- Writer
