Chapter 234

Ah, Shit.

โรง

Macey

The first thing I became aware of was sound. A deep, dull hum that wasn’t quite steady. A rhythm

that rose and fell, like tyres against uneven ground. Then came the ache. A pulsing, stiff burn

through my shoulders from my arms being twisted painfully behind my back. When I tried to move,

something bit into my wrists. Yep, that’s rope, or maybe cable ties… My heart stuttered once, then

began to pound. I opened my eyes, but there was nothing but darkness. There was something rough

and heavy over my head, rubbing against my cheek every time the vehicle bounced. My breathing

came in faster, hot air collecting beneath the material, making it hard to get a full lungful.

Okay, Mace, I told myself, the words trembling in my head. Think. Feel. Listen.

I could smell oil and metal and something faintly sweet, almost chemical. The floor beneath me

vibrated with each turn of the wheels. Somewhere to my right, low voices murmured, they’re too soft

to understand and too far away to sound real. I stayed still. Every instinct screamed at me to move,

to kick, to fight, but I forced myself not to. Whoever they were, they thought I was out cold. That

was something I could use. The car hit a bump, sending pain flaring through my shoulders again. My

fingers tingled from lack of blood flow. I swallowed hard, fighting down the panic that clawed at the

back of my throat. Time lost all meaning. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. All I

had was motion and sound – the rattle of loose metal, the murmur of voices, the thud of my own

heartbeat in my ears.

Then the rhythm changed, and the engine growled lower. We were stopping. I heard doors open –

one, then another -followed by the crunch of boots on gravel. The next sound was closer. A heavy

clunk, and metal hinges straining. Then, fresh air hit my skin, sharp and cold through the bag’s

fabric. My lungs filled in a shuddering breath before rough hands caught my arms.

“Get her up,” a voice muttered, low and harsh.

I was yanked upright. My knees buckled, but they didn’t care; they just hauled me forward, my boots

scraping across dirt, then gravel, then something smoother. No one spoke again. No one needed to.

The silence was worse than any words could have been. Every sound became magnified: the drag of

9:40 Mon, Sep 7

Ah, Shit.

my shoes, the rasp of my breathing under the bag, the dull echo of footsteps bouncing off

something… Walls, maybe. A tunnel? A building? My stomach twisted as I tried to count steps, turns,

anything that could help me later, but my head throbbed too hard to focus. Finally, they stopped.

Someone gave a short, clipped command I couldn’t make out, and the hands on my arms shifted.

Then they pushed me down. My knees hit the ground first, hard, sending a shock of pain up my

thighs. Beneath me, the floor was smooth and cool through my pants-maybe concrete or stone. I

could feel the faint grit under my palms where they’d tied my hands. The silence pressed in around

me, so damn thick and suffocating. I could hear only the sound of my own ragged breathing under

the bag. And then, from somewhere just beyond that darkness, a voice broke the quiet.

2

“Welcome!”

My blood ran cold, and then I felt the scrape of the bag leaving my skin, the rough fabric dragging

through my hair before it was torn away. Then came the light, it was harsh and blinding after so

much darkness. I blinked hard, squinting until the shapes started to make some sense. Stone, that’s

what was under my knees, that’s what I saw first. Then, when my eyes adjusted fully, I realised I

wasn’t alone. There were people. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Standing shoulder to shoulder in

a crowd below me, their faces lit by firelight and shadow. Some wore torn clothes, others bits of

shitty armour, but they all looked the same. Rough, dirty, and hungry. And all of them were staring

at me. My pulse thudded so loud I could barely hear the murmurs rolling through the crowd.

A sound behind me made me flinch boots scuffing against the stone. Then his voice came.

“Well, look who’s awake.”

–

I turned, my stomach flipping when I saw him. Dean. Fucking, dumb, dick-face, Dean.

He stepped into the torchlight like he’d been waiting for a cue, all smug confidence and perfect

posture. The smile he gave me was one of a pure self-satisfied douche canoe. He snapped his fingers,

and the sound of drums that I hadn’t even realised was there suddenly stopped. The silence that

followed was almost worse. Two men appeared behind me. I didn’t have time to react before one of them yanked the ropes from around my wrists. The other grabbed my arm and forced me to stand. My legs wobbled, but I stayed upright, my breath shallow and shaky. Dean reached for my hand. I didn’t give it willingly, but I didn’t have much choice, either. His fingers wrapped tight around mine,

Ah, Shit.

and he raised our hands high like this was some kind of performance.

“Rogues of the North,” he called out, his voice booming off the walls. “Rogues of the South. Rogues

of every land that cast us out!”

The crowd stirred with a low growl of excitement.

“For too long,” Dean went on, “we’ve been scattered, hunted and treated like animals by the packs

who think they rule us. But no more.”

He turned to face me again, his eyes bright and unhinged.

“No more!” he shouted, and the crowd echoed it back at him.

Then, quieter, more dangerous, he said, “Because I found her.”

My heart stopped. Dean grinned, squeezing my hand so tight it hurt. “I have found your Luna. The

one fate chose to lead beside me. The Queen of the Rogues!”

The crowd erupted with howls, roars, and the clash of weapons hitting stone. The sound shook

through me like thunder.

I just stood there, frozen, my body stiff and my mind spinning. Your queen.

Dean leaned in, his voice dropping low, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath

against my ear.

“Welcome home, Mace.”

Home. Ah shit. This isn’t good.