Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 158

Someone put me here, bound me to this table, and left me alone in this stinking, freezing space. But why? And how long do I have before they come back? Before Rhett returns and finishes what he started?

In the flickering half–light, I open my eyes again, the shadows seeming darker, sharper, as I stare up at the bare bulb. A single thought takes shape in my mind, cold and clear, cutting through the panic with an icy certainty: I need to get out of here. Now.

I strain against the bonds, twisting my wrists and ankles, searching for any weakness. The restraints bite into my skin, metal and leather digging in with each attempt to pull free. My heart pounds faster as I realize just how tight they’ve been fastened, as if whoever put me here knew I’d fight. I close my eyes, trying to reach for my wolf, hoping to shift, to force my way out of this, but there’s… nothing. A hollow absence. It’s as though she’s been locked away, cut off from me, leaving me more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt.

Panic surges, sharp and hot, and my mind is a foggy mess, memories swirling and tangling like smoke. I try to grasp at them, to piece together how I ended up here, but each attempt sends a fresh wave of pain slicing through my skull, sharp and relentless. I force myself to slow my breathing, to focus, even as nausea threatens to overwhelm me. Inhale. Exhale. Think through the pain, through the panic. I can’t afford to lose control now.

Lopen my eyes and force myself to study the room, my gaze

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Chapter 158

1288 Vouchers

over every detail despite the

The walls are bare concrete, rough and stained with dark streaks I hope are only water damage but suspect are something else. There are no windows–just cold, gray walls enclosing me in a box. One heavy metal door stands on the far side, its surface marred with patches of rust that

to me.

my helplessness. As it sways, my shadow seems to writhe, a dark echo of my trapped form, shifting and swaying as I struggle to free my wrists. A chill runs down my spine, a sense of dread settling deeper into my bones. This room wasn’t designed for comfort–that much is clear. No, this room was designed to hold

slicing through the oppressive silence. My heart leaps into my throat, my pulse quickening as I strain my ears, trying to catch every word. Twisting on the metal

snaps, laced with fury. Bianca. I recognize her tone, sharp and biting, each word filled with contempt. “You think marking her is the answer?”

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