Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“He’s the one who’s been herding us,” I realize.
“Yes.” She takes my hands in hers, her skin cold against mine. “He still wants me, Aubrey. Wants me to surrender completely to the hunger, to join him as his…mate, I suppose. He has just enough intelligence, I think because he fed from my blood at first. When I fight the transformation, when I cling to my humanity, it enrages him. He’s punished me for it, repeatedly.” She pauses. “He still wants my blood, still tries to take it as power for himself.”
I glance at her arms, now seeing the scars I missed before—marks of violence, of cruelty. Rage builds in my chest, hot and fierce. “I’ll kill him,” I say, meaning every word. “For what he did to you, I’ll kill him.”
Lainey shakes her head, a sad smile touching her lips. “You can’t. He’s too strong now, too protected by the others. And besides…” She trails off, something like resignation settling over her features. “I don’t know how much longer I can fight this. The hunger grows stronger every day. Sometimes I lose days, weeks—coming back to myself covered in blood, with no memory of what I’ve done, who I’ve killed.”
“There has to be a cure,” I insist, squeezing her hands. “A way to reverse this.”
“I’ve been searching for three years,” she says softly. “These caves hold secrets, ancient knowledge about the curse, but nothing about how to end it. The best I’ve found is a way to temporarily suppress the hunger—a mixture of certain minerals and mud found deep in the cave system. It buys me time, clarity, but it’s not a cure.”
“Then we’ll find one,” I say with determination that surprises even me. “Together. Or at least a way to control it better. You’ve survived this long. There must be a way.”
There has to be.
Lainey studies my face, something like hope flickering behind those alien blue eyes. “You don’t hate me? Fear me? After seeing what I’ve become?”
“You’re my sister,” I say simply. “I’ve spent three years searching for you. I’m not giving up now just because things are more complicated than I expected.”
A lot more complicated than I expected.
A sound echoes from deeper in the cave system—a strange, high-pitched call that raises goosebumps along my arms. Lainey tenses immediately, her head snapping toward the sound, body going rigid with alert wariness.
“They’re coming,” she whispers, releasing my hands and backing away. “Adam. The others. They know you’re here.”
Of course they do.
This was their plan all along.
33
JENSEN
Ifollow the echo of Lainey’s voice through winding passages, the beam of my flashlight bouncing off wet stone walls as I move deeper into the cave system. The air grows colder with each step, carrying that metallic tang that seems stronger in the depths. My mind races with questions, with the impossibility of what I’ve heard. Lainey Wells, alive after three years in these caves. Not just alive, but singing—clear evidence of remaining humanity, in stark contrast to what Hank became so quickly.
The passage widens slightly, allowing me to move faster. Every instinct screams to hurry, to find Aubrey before something else does. Before Lainey—or whatever she’s become—finds her first. The guilt that’s been my constant companion for three years intensifies with each step. I should never have let them enter these caves. Should never have agreed to guide them in the first place. Should have searched harder, longer after they disappeared.
I round a corner and the passage opens abruptly into a chamber. My light catches movement—two figures facing each other in the center of the space. One of them I recognize immediately: Aubrey, her gun drawn, face set with determination. The other…
“Lainey,” I breathe, the name escaping me.
Both women turn at the sound of my voice. Aubrey’s face floods with relief, but it’s Lainey’s reaction that stops me cold. Her features—changed but still recognizably hers—shift through a rapid series of emotions: surprise, recognition, and something more complex I can’t immediately identify.
“Jensen McGraw,” she says, my name in her mouth sending a chill down my spine. Her voice is both familiar and strange, the timbre altered by whatever transformation she’s undergone. “You came back.”
I step forward cautiously, my light fully illuminating the scene. Lainey stands at Aubrey’s side, close but not touching, her posture somehow both protective and predatory at once. The changes in her are immediately apparent—the unnatural paleness of her skin, the blue cast to her eyes, the subtly altered proportions of her face and limbs. But unlike Hank or Red, she’s still recognizably the person I remember.
“Never stopped blaming myself,” I manage to get out. “Lainey, I’m so sorry. I should have—”
“Don’t,” she interrupts, raising a hand that ends in slightly too-long fingers, nails curving into points. “You couldn’t have known.”
Aubrey moves toward me, bridging the distance between us. Her hand finds mine, squeezing briefly before releasing, the simple human contact grounding me in this surreal moment.