His shift is almost instant.
It's the smoothest transition from man to beast that I've ever seen, and in seconds his black wolf is towering over me, snarling furiously.
He barely seems to notice the shard of glass in my hand, still snarling at me as he slowly stalks across the kitchen.
Ira wants me to be afraid. His eyes narrow in on my face and I can feel my arm shaking. My knees feel weak and my mind is racing. I'd call the flames, but I'm almost certain he'll feel it coming and leap at me before I can make a move.
The sound of a door slamming shut echoes through the kitchen and my breath catches in my throat. Callum.
Ira jerks his big head toward the entrance to the kitchen, one ear twitching in the direction of the sound.
His body tenses, and I can tell he's about to chase after my brother.
The instant he turns fully away from me I retract my arm, breathing in a shaky breath. I have to do this. It's me or Callum.
My heart is pounding and my hands are shaking. I press the jagged edge of the shard against the side of my neck, directly above the bandage covering his mark.
It's almost funny how history repeats itself.
In this case, it feels like the closest I'll ever get to justice. I steel myself, pushing the glass shard harder against my neck.
"Stop," I say.
Ira doesn't notice, licking his jaws and preparing himself for the chase.
I push the glass even harder, using the tip to pierce the skin of my neck and dragging it slowly across so that it cuts through the bandage and through the mark he left on my skin. It burns as I drag it across my neck, but I force myself to ignore it. For Callum.
Maybe it's the scent of blood in the air, or maybe it's our new supernatural connection, but his massive body freezes mid-bound and he spins around to face me.
There's not an ounce of humanity left in him as he growls furiously at me.
He takes a step forward, and then another. I throw up my free hand, trying to tell him to stop, to back up. I can't seem to form the words. He ignores it.
I'm his prey.
Taking a deep breath, I thrust the glass even deeper into my neck.
He freezes.
I don't move the glass, even as I feel the warm blood streaming down my neck. The world starts to spin around me, but I force myself to remain still.
"Is there anyone going after my brother?"
He doesn't move.
I take a deep breath. "I said is there anyone going after my brother?" I grip the shard tightly, even as it bites into the palm of my hand.
There's no coming back from this.
Either I bleed out, or he keeps me locked away for the rest of my life. I'll be lucky if I even end up with a window the size that Callum had.
But if he's safe, it'll be worth it.
Ira shakes his big head, his black eyes never leaving my own. He's waiting for me to move, to give him an opening. We stand like that for a while, though I'm not sure how long exactly.
My arm is shaking with the effort that it takes to keep pressure on the wound. My head feels strangely light and my hands are cold. It must be the blood loss, I realize. But it's too late to react.
The world spins around me and I feel my arm give out at the same time as my knees do.
I catch a flash of brown out of the corner of my eye, so fast I must have imagined it. I don't have time to think on it though, as the ground rises up to meet me.
*
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the cool sensation of metal against the skin of my wrists. Then the lumpy mattress beneath me.
I blink my eyes open, but everything is still bleary. What happened? Where am I?
The room is dark, but I'm not alone.
At the foot of the mattress, I can just barely make out the oversized form of Ira's dark wolf.
My arms ache, stretched out above my head on the mattress. When I try to move them, they're met with resistance and I notice a metallic rattle as I tug at my arms once more.
The sound makes me freeze.
It takes a second to gather my courage. I don't want to look-I don't want to see the chains keeping me in place. But I don't have a choice, either.
Slowly, so as not to further aggravate my already burning neck, I crane my head back to look at my hands. My wrists are bound by handcuffs, but the long chain connecting them vanishes into the floor somewhere past the edge of the mattress.
Taking in my surroundings, I see the same, small barred window from Callum's room. The tiny room is dark, the sun having long since set. A single light bulb dangles from the ceiling, but it isn't on. My stomach turns. This is bad.
Ira doesn't appear to hear me, so I assume he must be sleeping. How long have I been out? I take a deep breath.
Who knows what he'll try to do to me when he wakes up.
I don't have time to dwell on it. I have to act quickly, before I wake him. I close my eyes, reaching deep into myself, searching for the heat.
My body is weak and sore, and I'm not sure how much strength I have left. Briefly, I worry I won't be able to feel it.
But the fire is there. As always.
I pause briefly: how do I draw on it without alerting him? I'm not convinced I can.
Even so, I try anyway. I can't just give in. Not now. Not after everything that's happened. I don't have it in me to just give up. Without the threat to my brother hanging over my head, it's finally time to fight.
I embrace the heat, basking in the feeling as it fills my veins and my entire body warms dramatically. Closing my eyes, I force it to burn hotter. I focus all of my energy on the chain locking my arms in place.
I've never tried melting metal before, but even despite my exhaustion, I feel ready to rise to the occasion. I am so tired of other people trying to control me and bend me to their will. Tired of running, of fighting. I just want everything to finally come to an end. The fire is fueled by my frustration.
I'm drawn from the heat when Ira's jaws snap in front of my face. "Stop!" The word forces itself unbidden into my mind and my entire body becomes frozen in place.
He's still a wolf, but somehow, I can hear him as if he's speaking right to me. "You think you can get away from me?"
I can't move. I can barely even think, with his words echoing so loudly in my head. But how is he doing this?
The morning that Tiberius had tried to mark me by force comes to mind. He'd told me then, warned me that the mark would allow him access to my thoughts.
I could have never imagined just how invasive it feels.
I want him out of my head. I want to move, to fight. I am so tired of being controlled like some puppet. This animal has cost me so much of my life.
I struggle to move, to clench my hands into fists or kick Ira away from me. I want to be free. I need to be free.
Free to do what I want and go where I want and be who I want to be - not who Ira wants me to be, or who Jon wants me to be, or even who Tiberius wants me to be. I think of all the things I've given up and all of the things I've lost because of the wolf snarling above my head. I think of all the dreams I'll never get to pursue and all the time I spent alone and afraid.
For once, I don't need to think of Charlie, or my family, or all of the lives he has already taken from me to draw the fire.
I just think of myself, my own fear and anger and heartbreak. I won't let him break me.
With all of the mental energy I have left, I feel for our bond. I feel his unyielding rage more strongly than anything else and I push back against it. I send him all of my pain, all of my anguish, all of my hatred. I am consumed by the desire for freedom.
Then a bright light flashes before my eyes and my entire body is filled with sharp, stabbing pains. I can hear myself screaming.
Just as quickly, the pain is gone.
I lay on the mattress, gasping. My head feels fuzzy and my entire body is shaking. My wrists are still bound, the metal of the chain half-melted and thin.
At the foot of the bed, Ira's wolf is whimpering.
I can't feel him in my mind anymore.
I don't know what it means.
But I need to act quickly, before he recovers from whatever the hell that was. I focus on the metal again, drawing on the heat and willing it to surround what's left of the chain. It doesn't take long before I'm able to pull my arms away.
The cuffs are still wrapped around my wrists, and several inches of chain hang loose on each arm. The skin around my wrists is red, but I don't imagine they look any worse than the rest of me.
As I stagger to my feet, Ira's wolf stops its whimpering.
I stumble to the door, my body dragging with a strange lethargy. But my fear trumps my exhaustion as I open the door and force myself to scramble up the stairs. My foot slips midway, and I take the rest of the stairs at a half crawl, half run.
I don't hear him behind me until I hit the top step and propel myself through the open doorway.
Losing momentum, I careen forward, gasping as my face slams into the hard floor.
He's right behind me now, growling loudly.
I scramble to my knees, eyes wide as I turn to face him. But he isn't facing me - he's facing a wolf with rich, dark brown fur. A wolf planted firmly in front of me with its hackles raised.
When it glances back at me, I'm met with a set of fierce hazel eyes. Eyes I'd recognize anywhere.
Nora.