Chapter 3

Cain stepped in front of her.

"Rex sent a feeder," he said. "Didn't even send someone good."

The creature lunged.

Cain moved first. He sidestepped, drove his elbow into its skull, and kept walking as the crack echoed down the shaft. The thing slammed into the wall and dropped.

Ivy stared at its twitching fingers. "What the hell was that?"

"A failed wolf."

"A wolf?"

"Someone who couldn't handle the bite. Their body keeps changing, but the mind's gone." Cain rolled his shoulder. His mouth tightened. "They're easy to point at someone and forget about."

"That's what'll happen to me if you bite me, isn't it?"

"I'm not biting you."

"You said your wolf might kill me."

"Killing's faster." He glanced toward the deeper tunnel. "Move. They know we're here."

Ivy looked once more at the feeder. Its fingers scraped against the stone.

Then she followed Cain.

The tunnel sloped down. Cain didn't need a flashlight, but Ivy did. She stayed close enough to see his back and close enough to smell blood under the rust and rot in the air.

"How far to the exit?" she asked.

"There's a junction ahead. We'll rest there, then take the east shaft."

"And after that?"

"We cross the ridge."

"You said thirty days."

"I remember what I said."

"Hunters are after me. Rex is sending monsters after you. Your wolf keeps trying to kill me or claim me. You want me to trust a thirty-day escape plan?"

Cain looked over his shoulder. His eyes flashed gold in the dark.

"No. I want you to keep up."

The junction opened into a wider pocket of rock. Old crates leaned against one wall. Cain shoved one aside and sat down, his shoulders sagging as if he'd been carrying twice his weight.

Ivy stayed on her feet.

"You're bleeding again."

"I know."

"The silver's still in there."

His pale eyes lifted to hers. "What makes you say that?"

"You aren't healing. I saw the wound when we signed the pact. If you're really what you claim to be, it should've closed."

Cain gave a short, humorless laugh. "You calling me a liar?"

"I'm calling you stupid. Get it out before you collapse."

His jaw flexed. "It's fine."

"You're sweating through your shirt, and you look ready to pass out."

"I've had worse."

"Good for you. Do you want a medal, or do you want to live long enough to get rid of me in thirty days?"

That stopped him.

Cain studied her like he was choosing between throwing her out of the mine and letting her keep talking. Finally, he reached for the knife at his belt.

"You know how to dig out a bullet?"

"It's not a bullet."

"Same principle."

Ivy took the knife. The handle was warm from his body. "Take off your shirt."

He pulled the torn fabric over his head and tossed it aside.

The wound in his shoulder was worse than she'd expected. Blackened skin curled around the opening. Something metallic glinted deep in the muscle.

"Jesus."

"Silver stops us from healing. Leave it in long enough, and it poisons the blood."

"How long have you had it?"

"Three days."

"Three days?"

"Use the knife, Ivy."

She crouched beside him. "This is going to hurt."

"Everything hurts. Just do it."

Ivy pressed the blade into the wound.

Cain went rigid. His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist.

Pain bit into her skin.

"Cain."

"Keep going."

"You're crushing my wrist."

His grip loosened by a fraction. "Don't stop."

She dug deeper.

The silver fragment was lodged tight. Ivy worked the blade beneath it while Cain's breathing turned rough and uneven. His pulse hammered against her fingers. When she looked up, his eyes had gone bright gold.

"Almost," she whispered.

"Don't whisper. Pull."

She hooked the blade under the metal and pried.

The fragment came free with a wet scrape. Blood spilled over her hand.

Cain released her. His other palm slammed into the wall, and his teeth flashed when he sucked in a breath.

Fangs.

Long. Sharp. Inches from her face.

Ivy jerked back. The knife clattered across the stone.

Cain stared at her, chest heaving. For one terrible second, his body leaned toward hers.

Then he wrenched his head aside.

"Get back."

"I—"

"Get. Back."

Ivy scrambled up and shoved the crate between them.

Cain stayed where he was. His shoulders shook. The wound in his shoulder began to close, slowly at first, then fast enough to make Ivy's stomach turn. Black skin peeled away. Fresh skin pulled over the torn muscle.

He kept his face toward the wall and his fists locked on his knees.

"You good?" she asked.

"No."

At least he didn't lie.

Ivy kept one hand on the crate. "Are you going to attack me?"

"Not if I can stop it."

"That isn't reassuring."

"I wasn't trying to reassure you."

She watched his breathing. In. Out. Slow. Measured. His control returned inch by inch.

When Cain finally looked at her, his eyes were gray again. He looked exhausted.

"That's twice," he said.

"Twice what?"

"Twice I should've ripped your throat out and didn't."

He stood and picked up his ruined shirt. He didn't put it on. He just held it at his side.

"My wolf knows your scent."

Ivy's stomach dropped. "What does that mean?"

Cain's gaze moved over her face, then stopped at her mouth for one dangerous second before he looked away.

"It means you smell like my mate." His voice stayed flat, but his fingers tightened around the shirt. "My wolf wants me to claim you."

The word hit harder than the creature had.

"Claim me?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not claiming anyone."

"You don't get to decide that alone, apparently."

His eyes sharpened. "The bond's a mistake. We finish the thirty days. You disappear. My wolf shuts the hell up."

"And if it doesn't?"

Cain stepped around the crate. He stopped close enough for Ivy to feel the heat coming off his bare skin, but he didn't touch her.

"Then one of us doesn't make it to day thirty."

Ivy lifted her chin. "You keep saying that like I'm supposed to be impressed."

"I'm saying it so you understand the stakes."

"I understand them. You want me gone, but your wolf wants me close. Rex wants you dead. Hunters want me dead. And I'm supposed to cross a border beside you while pretending none of that matters."

"Now you're catching up."

She bent and picked up the silver fragment. It was no bigger than her thumbnail, dark and pitted from blood.

"Who shot you?"

"Does it matter?"

"You said Rex sent that feeder. Is he the one who wants you dead?"

Cain's jaw tightened. "Rex wants my territory, my pack, and my throat between his teeth. He's not picky about the order."

"He was your second."

"He thought he was my second. I never named him anything."

Cain grabbed his canteen and drank. A drop ran down his throat before he wiped it away.

"He challenged me six months ago," he said. "I beat him. He didn't like losing. Now half the pack thinks I'm too dangerous to lead, and the other half's too scared to tell him no."

"So you left."

"I was exiled. There's a difference."

"If you went back—"

"They'd kill me, or I'd kill them. Either way, the pack's finished."

He turned toward the tunnel.

"We need to move. Rex won't stop at one feeder."

Ivy nodded, then stopped.

Something hard pressed against the inside of her pocket. She pulled it out.

Her mother's pendant.

The chain was broken. The clasp had never worked right. Ivy had carried it for years anyway, even though her mother had refused to explain the symbol etched into its face.

Cain went still.

His gaze locked on the pendant.

Ivy closed her fingers around it. "What?"

"Where did you get that?"

"It was my mom's. Why?"

He didn't answer.

"Cain."

He crossed the space between them in two strides and caught her wrist. His grip was firm, not painful, but his thumb pressed against her pulse.

"What's your mother's name?"

Ivy's heartbeat kicked harder. "Why does it matter?"

"What is her name?"

"Iris Crowe. She's dead. She died when I was ten."

Cain released her as if her skin had burned him.

He took one step back and dragged a hand through his hair.

"That's not possible."

"What isn't possible?"

He pointed at the pendant. "That mark. I know it."

Ivy looked down. The worn symbol was still clear: a circle cut by three lines.

"Then tell me what it is."

Cain's face went pale beneath the blood and dirt.

"It's a bloodline seal," he said. "The kind that died out twenty years ago, when hunters burned the last of them alive."

Ivy's fingers closed around the pendant. "What does that have to do with my mother?"

Cain didn't answer fast enough.

The mine groaned behind them. Stone dust pattered from the ceiling. Somewhere in the darkness, a second set of footsteps scraped across the rock.

Cain reached for the knife.

Ivy grabbed his arm. "You know who Iris Crowe was."

His eyes met hers. Gold spread through the gray.

"I know what she was," he said. "And if you're carrying her seal, then you're not just—"

A howl ripped through the tunnel.

Cain shoved Ivy behind him and raised the knife toward the dark entrance.

"Stay here," he ordered.

Ivy tightened her grip on his arm. "Finish that sentence. What am I?"