By The Light Of The Moon

Chapter 38

The Warlord took his time, deliberately using the suspense as another method of torture. I closed my eyes shut and tried to think of any option that didn't involve my death.

With him out for revenge and already convinced we were lying, talking wouldn't get us anywhere. That left escape as our only way of avoiding certain death, and that was very unlikely.

Even if all my chains dropped off, I didn't stand a chance of evading all the men in this camp. Shane could likely manage it, but they were using me as leverage, and even if he got such an opening, I didn't think he'd leave without me.

At the creek, when the warrior had held the sword by my neck, Shane hadn't revealed himself. But he could have let them shoot me by the pitfall trap and barged past all the crossbows in a bid for freedom and he hadn't. The more I considered it, the more I was convinced he wouldn't leave while I was still alive.

I exhaled slowly. I would have given him a stern lecture if he even thought of attempting what I was thinking about, but there was no way I was getting out of here alive. The inside of the tent was getting lighter, and the sun would be rising soon. His shift would catch the men off guard and give him a chance to escape – but he had to use that opening.

If we'd had more time, I would have tried to wait out the pain until the Warlord was called away or went to visit the latrine. Assuming the two watchdogs also left, which was highly unlikely, this necklace would finally prove its worth.

But we were running out of time.

Nor would we be left unguarded long enough for me to free Shane.

My forehead touched the floor as I realized something else. Even if Shane somehow distracted every fighter in this entire warcamp, I didn't think I'd be able to leave these mountains knowing my freedom had been bought at the expense of his life. The thought weighed heavily on me, even more so than the thought of my death.

If I died, they'd have no leverage to bring him back – he could shift and escape when the sun rose. But... was I willing to give my life for his? Did I really care about him that much?

The answer that rang through my heart finally let me understand why Shane had returned.

Yes.

I would give my life for him.

Because I couldn't imagine my life if I knew he was dead.

The necklace around my neck seemed oddly heavy, as if it wanted to fall to the floor like my chains had previously.

The Warlord's voice broke through my thoughts. "The werewolf obviously cares about you, but the question remains, do you care about him?"

I turned my head to meet Shane's eyes, letting my reply be for him. "Yes."

His gaze held the same emotions as mine, rending further words unnecessary.

"Ah, a confession of love. How precious," the blonde-haired warlord drawled out. "But how far does love go? I already know the wolf's opinion, but what about yours? Would you give your life in exchange for his freedom?"

It was an uncanny echo of my earlier thoughts. The tent became oddly silent, the noises outside fading away. It was so quiet I could clearly hear a raven caw in the distance. The necklace was a heavy, warm presence around my neck.

But it was time to break the silence. Time to tell the truth aloud.

"Yes." My voice was quiet, but firm, giving no hint that my muscles were trembling.

"Olivia, what are you doing?" Shane demanded, desperate concern in his voice.

Without breaking eye contact, I sat up, letting a handful of loose chains fall to the ground. Most remained intact, as if confirming my inability to escape.

"The sun will rise again," I told him, hoping he'd take the hint to run and not try killing three armed men in the name of vengeance. His wolf form was powerful, but not undefeatable. Perhaps he'd even take word back to my family so they wouldn't be left wondering about my fate.

The Warlord slowly walked toward me, each step heavy and ominous. He unsheathed his sword and examined the length of steel.

"Perhaps it would be an even trade," he mused, watching the lantern lights flicker along the polished blade. "He could experience some of the pain I felt at losing someone dear."

He stopped in front of me as if delivering judgment or waiting for me to retract my words. When I remained silent, he pulled his sword back for a strike.

Shane lunged against his chains, shouting, "No!"

Lightning crackled over every inch of his skin, and his muscles shuddered so hard they gave out, sending him to knees. As the sword started to swing, I closed my eyes tightly. It whistled through the air toward me, sending chills down my spine. My heart thundered in my chest as I braced myself for the final blow.

The necklace around my neck flared painfully hot.

Then the sound stopped.

The blow never came.

A green glow grew brighter, visible even through my eyelids. I carefully cracked one eye open. The sword – angled sideways, meant to bruise, not cut – had stopped a mere handspan from my head, held at bay by twining tendrils of green light that emanated from my chest – no, from the necklace.

The remaining chains fell off me in a musical rain of chiming. Not only had the locks and clasps come undone, but each link had separated from its neighbor, still undamaged and intact.

The Warlord released his sword and backed up. As if in slow motion, the blade clattered to the floor. But the tendrils of light didn't recede. They grew – stretching and spreading in a fashion that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. The two watchdogs backed against the tent fabric, watching in alarm.

"Olivia!"

My eyes went to the man I'd tried to save, whose necklace was glowing orange, and I whispered, "Shane."

At that moment, his necklace glowed brighter as ribbons of light streaked across the room, joining the green ones as they circled around the sadistic man. My necklace pulsed with heat, its familiar weight rapidly fading.

I glanced down, but of course, couldn't see the pendant. My eyes went back to Shane, whose necklace was disintegrating into light, which still streamed across the room to circle the man who had planned our deaths.

No. Not circling.

Binding.

The last trails of light encircled the flailing man, condensing around his neck. I lifted my hand to my throat, but the necklace was gone. I staggered to my feet as the green and orange glow faded.

Both necklaces now resided around the Warlord's neck.