“There are no guarantees. But if you follow my instructions, you should be safe,” Gwen assures me.
By this point, I’m ready to trust her implicitly, but a chorus of low growls rise up as soon as she finishes speaking. The other three wolves stalk forward, teeth bared and hackles raised. Clearly, they’re not on board with the idea.
“We have to try.” I turn to face them, meeting their growls with a plaintive look. “We’re closer than ever to getting answers. We can’t stop now.”
I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that I can’t communicate with them via mind speak when I’m in human form. I have a feeling if I could speak to them right now, all I’d hear would be a cacophony of arguments against this.
Instead, the whole debate plays out almost silently, punctuated only by soft growls as I hold their gazes for a long moment.
Finally, Ridge huffs in a mixture of agreement and frustration. Archer drops to his haunches and whines in agitation while Dare and Trystan continue to stare darkly at Gwen.
To her credit, the witch has barely given them notice. That’s probably a good thing, since if she reacted to their obvious hostility, we could end up back in a fight like the one outside her cabin.
“Okay. What do we do?” I ask, turning back to her once I’m sure the men won’t attack.
“Give me your hands.” Gwen holds out her own hands, palms up.
The wolves all shift a few steps closer, and despite my worry that one of them will take a chunk out of Gwen’s arm, I’m grateful for their protective presence.
I place my hands in Gwen’s and scoot to the edge of my seat, my heart racing.
“What I’m going to do is use just a little of my own magic to put you in a trance,” the witch explains. “Don’t be frightened. You’ll be the one manipulating the bond, not me. All my magic will do is give you a push to a mental plane where you can travel through the link and into this other person’s mind. Do you understand?”
I nod and attempt to project to my mates that I’m confident and unconcerned, even as my fear bubbles beneath my skin along with my magic.
“I’ll guide you the whole way.” Gwen’s voice is low and steady. It might even be reassuring if I weren’t so terrified. “Ready?”
At my nod, black smoke begins to rise from her hands, curling up my arms like growing vines. It takes everything in me not to break away from her grip. I’ve been conditioned to fear witch magic ever since I learned it existed, and that’s never been so obvious as it is in this moment. I gave her my full permission to use her magic on me less than a minute ago, but now want to run for the hills.
“Steady,” Gwen murmurs, as if sensing my unease. “Close your eyes.”
I do as she says, entirely focused on the tickle of her magic sinking into my arms. I feel as if she’s reaching into the sigils cut into my skin, merging her magic with the magic that exists inside the bond between me and this nameless, faceless person.
“Deep breath in, deep breath out. Six times.”
Following her instructions, I think of all the times I’ve done breathing exercises to power through my fear and anxiety. I don’t even feel like that girl anymore—the girl who could be completely destroyed by her panic. I’ve stood up to angry shifters. I watched my uncle die. I fought a witch.
And now, here I am, about to do some serious magic with her help.
I can do this.
I have to.
“Sable, can you hear me?” Gwen’s voice comes from far away, distant and muffled.
“Yes.”
“Look around you. Can you see a dark tunnel?”
I didn’t realize until just this moment that the normal darkness behind my eyelids has adjusted and changed. I stand in a dim, hazy room that swirls with black smoke. An arched, open doorway leads away from the room, smoke lining the walls.
“Yes, I see it.”
“Walk down it.”
I hesitate, staring down the maw of the abyss. All of my nightmares where I’ve traveled down dark hallways or black caves have given me real fear of doing this. I swallow and take two deep breaths, reminding myself that this isn’t real. I’m not really here. My body is still seated firmly in Gwen’s kitchen chair, surrounded by my mates.
So I throw back my shoulders and take a step forward.
The tunnel stretches for what seems like miles, so black I can’t see my hand in front of my face. But I can feel the smoke swirling around me—the magic coating the tunnel and forging the link between me and this other person. I can’t tell how much time is passing here. Time seems meaningless now.
“See anything yet?” Gwen asks, just a distant whisper now.
“A light at the end,” I reply. I can’t tell if I’m really speaking or just thinking the words, but I hope she understands them. “I’m nearly there.”
The closer I get to the light, the more blinding it becomes. I shield my face as I leave the tunnel behind in a flash of brilliant illumination.
Then I’m no longer in my own consciousness. I’m inside someone else.
I am someone else.
A burly man with massive fists stands in front of me. As I try to orient myself, he rears back and throws a heavy punch at the face of a man tied to a chair. The wounded man cries out, his head whipping backward as knuckles crack against flesh. His eyes are swollen and bruised, and rivers of blood traverse his face from numerous injuries, but I recognize him immediately.
Lawson.
Oh my God, is the North Pack torturing him? Ridge would be furious if he knew about this. That’s not how the packs operate, and Ridge, of all my mates, isn’t one for needless violence or vengeance.
But then
