Bite the hand

Chapter 11: The ghost of Lila

The world was a blur of golden light and jagged, terrifying noise. I felt myself being lifted, my feet danging above the floor I’d been kneeling on. I couldn't stop the tremors racking my body. The smell of cedar and bourbon—Miles’s scent—was still cloying in my nose, but it was being drowned out by something else.

The scent of a rainy forest. The smell of death.

"Get her out of here. Now," a voice commanded. It was Leo, but his usual playful trill was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp-edged panic.

"Don't touch her," Finn growled. His voice was a vibration against my cheek. He was holding me against his chest so tightly I could hear his heart hammering like a trapped bird.

I buried my face in his neck, my fingers clutching his suit jacket as if it were a life raft. "Darius... please," I whimpered, the name tasting like ash and tears in my mouth. "Don't let them. I’ll go. I’ll leave. Just don't let them hurt the pups."

Finn made a sound—a choked, agonized noise that felt like a sob. He didn't answer. He just moved.

I didn't see how we got out. I didn't see the whispers of the guests or the smug, victorious look on Miles Thorne’s face as he watched his prize being carried away in pieces. I only felt the cold night air hit my skin, then the roar of an engine, and then... nothing but the dark.

When the fog in my mind finally thinned, I wasn't in a ballroom.

I was lying on a narrow, stiff bed in a room that smelled of dust, gun oil, and old blood. The walls were bare concrete, illuminated by the flickering light of a single bulb overhead. It was a tomb. A safe house.

Across the room, the two men were shadows against the wall, their voices low but vicious.

"She’s broken, Finn," Leo snapped. He was pacing the length of the small room, his movements jagged. He looked at me, and for the first time, there was no hunger in his green eyes. There was only a sharp, stinging frustration. "I didn't sign up to play nursemaid to a ghost. I wanted the Queen. I wanted the woman who could make me feel like my veins were on fire. This? This is just... a girl."

"Shut your mouth, Leo," Finn rasped. He was sitting on a wooden chair by the door, his head in his hands. He looked like he’d aged ten years in a single night. "You don't understand what they did to her. I saw it. I stood by and watched while they stripped her of everything. I was an enforcer, and I let my Alpha break her because I was too cowardly to move."

"And look where that 'mercy' got her," Leo hissed, stepping into the light. He looked at my shivering form on the bed. "She’s calling you his name. She’s looking for a man who wants her dead. She’s weak, Finn. If we don't wake her up, Miles is going to come through that door and finish what he started."

"She isn't weak!" Finn roared, standing up so fast the chair clattered to the floor. "She’s traumatized! She needs time. She needs to feel safe."

"We don't have time!" Leo shot back. "The Shadowbite is the only thing keeping us alive. If word gets out that she’s regressed into Lila Voss, every rogue in the city will be at our throats by morning."

I pulled the thin, scratchy blanket up to my chin, flinching at the volume of their voices. Lila Voss. The name felt like a bruise. Shadowbite. I didn't know who that was. That woman sounded brave. That woman sounded like she wasn't afraid of the dark.

I missed my home. I missed the way the sun used to hit the garden in the Silverfang estate before the blood had stained the grass. If I could just get back... if I could just tell Darius that it was all a mistake, he would see. He loved me once. He had to.

The two men continued to argue, their voices becoming a dull roar in the background. They were talking about me as if I weren't there. As if I were a broken tool they were trying to decide whether to fix or discard.

I waited until their argument moved into the small kitchenette down the hall. I waited until I heard the sound of a bottle opening and the heavy sigh of a man who had lost his way.

Slowly, I pushed the blanket aside. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else, but I forced them to move. I didn't look for my daggers. I didn't look for my mask. I only saw the small, high window at the back of the room—the only way out of this cold, dark place.

I dragged a crate to the wall, my breath coming in shallow, terrified hitches. I climbed up, my fingers scraping against the rough stone until I could reach the latch. The night air was freezing, but it smelled of freedom.

I have to go back, I thought, my mind spinning with a desperate, deluded hope. I have to explain. He doesn't know the truth. If I tell him, he’ll stop the hunters. He’ll take me back.

I squeezed through the narrow opening, my silk gown tearing on the jagged metal frame. I hit the wet pavement of the alleyway with a thud, the pain in my knees barely registering.

I didn't know where I was, but I knew the scent of the city. I knew which way lead toward the Silverfang territory.

I started to run, my bare feet hitting the cold ground, my heart screaming with the need to return to the man who had destroyed me. I had to get home. I had to find my Alpha.