Chapter 117: Killian’s Girl?
After Killian storms out of the door, leaving Nyra alone with his father.
The older man snorts mockingly before he releases her hair with a sharp shove, sending Nyra stumbling back against the edge of the bed.
She manages to catch herself on one hand before she hits the edge of the bed, falling onto the bed with a harsh bounce. The older man’s expression has gone flat and cold as he stares at the pained expression on her face.
"Because of your stupid little display of defiance," he says in a low, angry voice, "you can’t be used for the experiment today. The readings would be contaminated. But don’t mistake this for mercy. You need to be punished."
He turns his head toward the open doorway. Two guards step inside at once, as if they have been waiting for the signal.
"Take her to the experiment house. Secure her there for tomorrow. Give her only stale bread and water, so she learns."
Nyra’s stomach drops. She pushes herself upright, shaking her head. "No! No, please!"
The guards ignore her pleading and seize her arms. Their grips are like iron, fingers digging into the skin of her wrists.
She digs her heels into the tile, twists, kicks, but the residual weakness from the poison and the forced pill leave her too slow, and they manage to drag her toward the door anyway.
"Let go of me!" she snarls, trying to summon her wolf. "I said let go! You have no idea what you’re messing with!"
The guards laugh. "You’re delusional. Here, you’re absolutely nothing." They whisper, hauling her into the corridor.
The hallway is long and dimly lit, the same strange symbols faintly visible along the walls. Every step farther from the guest room feels like another door slamming shut on any chance of escape.
She tries harder to fight them, shoulders burning, bare feet sliding against the tiled, slippery floor. But all her fight is useless without her werewolf powers. She’s just a defenseless little girl in the eyes of these huge humans.
They’ve dragged her halfway down the grand staircase when they run into a familiar figure talking to a maid in the hallway.
Immediately, he sees them. He scowls and orders in a deep voice. "Stop that and let her go."
That soft expression from this morning has completely disappeared, his jaw tight with anger.
The guards stop in place, but they don’t let go of Nyra’s arms.
"Let her go," Killian says again.
One of them shifts uncomfortably. "Young Master, your father ordered--"
"Are you performing the experiment today?" Killian’s voice exudes a type of authority someone would not expect from someone so young. "No? Then why the hell are you dragging her to the cold dungeon today?"
The second guard clears his throat. "Sir... your father ordered it as punishment."
Killian’s gaze drops to Nyra. He sees the fresh cut along her hairline where she must have struck something in the struggle, the way blood has begun to trickle down her temple.
It makes his blood boil.
"I said unhand her at once. Do you dare to go against my orders!?"
"Sir... but your father-"
"I’ll deal with my father myself," he cuts them off with a flick of his wrist. "Now leave us."
The guards hesitate only a second longer. Then they release her and disappear the other way, probably to inform the boss about what happened.
Nyra’s legs give out the moment their support disappears. She drops to her knees on the stairs, breathing hard, one hand braced against the railing, trying to catch her breath.
Killian moves very quickly to help her. There is pure, genuine worry on his face, and Nyra can’t understand why.
She knocks his hands away when he tries to touch her.
"Your father was right," she says in a slightly breathless voice as she looks up at him, meeting his intense eyes. "I don’t know what you think this is, but I’m a mated werewolf. And my mate will come for me. I’m sure of it. So don’t bother."
Killian stills. For a moment, he simply looks at her. Then he exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly.
"I’m fine with that," he says quietly. "I’m not a man to cross boundaries."
Nyra huffs, unconvinced. She pushes herself to her feet on her own, swaying once before she finds her balance. The cut on her head stings. Her wrists ache. The mating mark on her neck feels strangely muted, and her wolf is still dulled by the drug.
Everything feels strange.
Killian watches her try to steady herself for a few seconds, then offers a different question.
"Would you rather be cooped up in that room... or stroll with me?"
She studies him. The offer feels like a trap. Yet the alternative is returning to the locked guest room--or worse, being dragged to whatever "experiment house" his father intends for tomorrow.
"Is this entire compound laced with magic?" she asks.
The edge of Killian’s mouth lifts, almost amused. "Will you come with me if I say no?"
Nyra rolls her eyes. She already knows the answer. The walls glowed the moment she touched them. There is no way to escape here. Not yet.
Still... information is a kind of power. Proximity to the son of the man who ordered her captured might be the only leverage she has.
She steps past him without another word and starts down the remaining stairs.
Killian falls into step beside her. He does not touch her again. He simply walks, matching her slower pace, and leads her toward a side corridor that opens onto a covered walkway overlooking the gardens.
Outside, the air is cooler. The fountain continues its soft, endless splash. Tall trees ring the estate, their leaves stirring in a light breeze. The symbols that cover the interior walls are less dense here, but Nyra can still feel the faint pressure of magic in the air.
She stays beside him as they walk, listening as he starts chattering about how different the human wolf is from the werewolf world.
Nyra forces herself to listen. She feels bad about leading him on, but getting close to Killian seems to be the only way out of this place.
She does not trust him. She does not like him. But right now, he is the only person who has stopped the guards from locking her in a dungeon, and that is more than anyone else has done since she woke up in that moving car.
So she walks closely, not pulling away when their shoulders brush a few times.
---
BACK IN THE BLACKWOOD MANSION
Adrian sits upright on the edge of the medical bed, finally free of the worst of the poison. His wolf stirs weakly beneath his skin, still sluggish but no longer silent. The oracle stands beside him, her hands glowing faintly as she finishes the last of the cleansing ritual.
He closes his eyes and reaches inward, searching for the familiar thread that has always connected him to Nyra.
Nothing answers.
The bond feels completely distant, as if someone has wrapped thick cloth around it and cut the ends. It’s even worse than the other time she disappeared.
"I can’t feel her," he says, voice rough. "It’s like the bond has been cut off."
The oracle sighs, lowering her hands. "I’m not surprised. If they managed to create a drug strong enough to weaken a powerful wolf from its host for this long, they are capable of far worse. Suppressing a mating bond is well within their reach."
Adrian’s chest aches. The absence of her presence leaves a hollow he cannot ignore. He stares at the floor, thinking about the last time they had found her after she went missing like this.
She had been a total mess. He wonders if these people are treating her much worse.
Suddenly, the door opens, cutting his thoughts off. Darius steps inside, his face lined with exhaustion. Behind him, Mr. Ramon waits in the hallway.
"We’re still trying to track down Caius," Darius says. "Finding him may be the key to locating Nyra. But in the meantime... Dorian is here."
Adrian’s head snaps up with a low growl. That backstabbing bastard.
He sees Dorian standing just outside the doorway, lips split and bleeding, one eye swollen. He looks like he has been through hell.
Darius places a steadying hand on Adrian’s shoulder. "Try to listen to him first."
But Adrian does not fucking wait.
He surges off the bed and slams Dorian back against the wall, forearm pressed to his throat.
"You betrayed us!" Adrian snarls. "You were the only one who knew about her. How dare you do that to her!"
Dorian does not fight back. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remain genuine.
"I didn’t," he rasps. "I swear I didn’t. I almost did because I was angry. But in the end, I couldn’t give them anything."
He turns slightly and pulls the back of his shirt up. Deep welts, bruises, and burns cover his skin. He looks like he has been tortured brutally.
"They worked on me for hours because I refused to talk," Dorian says. "My father is the one who told them. I don’t know how he found out, but he did."
Adrian’s grip loosens when he sees all the marks on his body.
Dorian meets his eyes. "Listen. I came here because I heard something that might help. One of them mentioned a city in human territory--Reshford. That’s where they were taking her."
His gaze grows even more serious.
"We can track her from there. But we need to leave now!!"