Morgan prowled her corner of the basement room, not trusting herself near the others. She glared at the wall-size mirror, wishing she had the ability to activate the spell without them so she didn’t have to wait.

Kincade and his group stood around a table at the center of the room, looking serious and deadly while they studied aerial maps and grid placements, going over strategies. She wanted to march over there and demand they hurry, but Kincade made it clear he didn’t welcome her help.

Not that it would do any good to speed them along.

They were waiting for the support team to finish their preparations.

Once Kincade and his team cleared the mansion, a second team would travel through the mirror, bring the wards back up, and prepare a triage. While she understood they needed to be prepared, they were also stopping her from helping MacGregor.

It had been twenty minutes since she’d learned of the attack, and every second counted in battle.

“How are you holding up?” Mistress McKay magically appeared at her side…although it could be that Morgan was so busy glaring at the others she hadn’t noticed her approach.

“Impatient.” Morgan welcomed the distraction, absently noting the tightness around McKay’s eyes, the strain thinning her lips.

McKay was worried, too.

Not good.

Morgan bounced on her feet, trying to rid herself of nervous energy.

She wanted to move now.

Every second they delayed could cost lives.

When she scanned the room for any signs of progress, she saw Kincade glare at her, rubbing his arm like she’d given him cooties or an STD or something. Pain ricocheted in her chest, and she wanted to march over there and smack him.

“He’s a good man. He’s just not used to anyone like you. It leaves him off-balance.”

“He’s an ass who doesn’t even bother to hide his dislike. It was there the first time he set eyes on me. He didn’t even try to give me a chance.” Morgan turned away when she remembered the rest of what McKay’s said, and grabbed the distraction with both hands. “What do you mean, like me?”

“I would say, since you’re still here, he is giving you a chance.” The small rebuke from McKay smarted, cooling off her ire a tad. “Kincade has been trained from birth to be the best hunter, but his time is limited. Sooner or later, he will be paired with a witch, and his duty will be to protect her.”

Morgan scowled. “What do you mean paired?”

“I see MacGregor failed to teach you everything.” Mistress McKay rolled her eyes, then sighed. “The magic inherent in a witch’s blood can cause a chemical reaction in a hunter. This reaction will bind the witch and hunter together.”

“Like slavery.” Morgan shuddered at the thought of being trapped in such a way after years of watching the witches at the coven treat their guards worse than dirt. “A hunter has no choice but to protect his female. I can’t understand why so many here look forward to it.”

“They don’t get a choice of who they’re pair with. They must trust fate.” She nodded to Kincade. “He knows his time is growing short.”

Morgan could understand his dread. The thought of him being tied to some female against his will made her physically sick. “How awful.”

“No.” Mistress McKay stepped in front of her. “Not at all. In the old ways, it was considered an honor. Some witches have perverted the pairing, but most take it seriously. When he’s selected, his DNA will alter, and he will want to protect her. Everything he’s been through is considered training for his true mission—to protect his mate.”

A deep yearning to be loved that fiercely tore through her, but Morgan didn’t trust it. She’d seen it go bad too many times to believe in fairy tales.

Though she didn’t actively practice magic, she was keenly aware that she had the potential to cast magic if it ever woke up. The thought scared the crap out of her. It was why she vowed never to choose a mate and risk it going so horribly wrong. As if picking up on her volatile emotions, the markings on her back rippled and stretched, wanting to hunt. Morgan bit back a groan of pain, not sure how much longer she could contain the magic.

“This is taking too long.” She glared at the mirror impatiently.

“MacGregor is tough. He won’t go down without a fight.” Despite her bracing words, worry shadowed McKay’s eyes. “He’ll hold them off.”

Morgan nodded, but she knew the old man wasn’t invincible. He hadn’t been actively hunting for years. She was also afraid that given an opportunity, Catalina would stab him in the back to clear the way for her to become the new head of the coven.

As her aggression swelled, the runes sank more heavily into her body, the magic seeping into her flesh and bones…spreading. The necklace she wore absorbed most of the magic, and the metal twisted and turned, spiraling up her neck until her throat was protected by a layer of chain mail.

“Oh, my.”

At McKay’s reverent whisper, Morgan reached up, covering her necklace self-consciously, cursing that she’d forgotten the woman’s presence. The torque almost never changed in front of anyone, and if it did, most didn’t notice when it happened. “The metal is imbued with magic, and reacts to my emotions to protect me.”

McKay tore her attention away from the torque, reluctantly looking up to meet Morgan’s gaze, her eyes shimmering with knowledge. “Yes, it is protecting you, but—”

“Time to go.”

Her blood turned molten at Kincade’s words, her curiosity regarding the necklace’s origin forgotten. The men headed toward the mirror, and Morgan prodded them to hurry.

“Bring him back to us.” McKay spoke to her alone, a fierceness in her eyes that matched MacGregor’s indomitable will. For the first time, Morgan saw how the two of them worked together…they would have been unstoppable.

Morgan nodded once. “I’ll do my best.”

McKay stepped between the towering men. Though she might be small in stature, the sheer power she gathered around her caused everyone to turn, parting for her as she strode toward the mirror.

As the magic built, it felt like the runes on her back were being peeled off her skin, fighting against being called forward. A flash of heat splashed into the room when the magic was released, the blast catching the mirror dead center, causing the silver surface to ripple. The sigils surrounding the frame glowed a bright gold as the spell sprang to life.

“Traveling through a mirror can cause motion sickness if you’re not used to it. Most people can’t handle the impact of pure primordial magic. It’s a hundred times more potent than the magic witches use, so you must be careful and not linger. The longer you’re in contact with the void, the more seriously it will affect you. Consequently, the purer your heritage, the fewer adverse effects it will have on you.”

Not caring about what price she had to pay, Morgan grabbed her weapons and charged forward.

“Morgan, wait!”

She dodged the arms reaching for her, raised her fists to shield her face, and leapt through the portal.

“Son of a bitch.”

The last echoes of Kincade’s voice faded as the mirror sucked her into the void. The darkness wrapped around her in welcome, the runes on her back growing heavy…but the expected pain never came. The markings became fluid, seeping under her skin, spreading, slipping into her bloodstream, lighting her on fire as it sped through her system.

Nothing she did halted the warm burn.

It felt…comforting.

And Morgan knew that was a bad sign.

She raised her hands, feeling like she was almost floating in a warm liquid, cocooned and protected.

Oddly enough, it felt like the home she’d never known.

Then a bright light blazed in the distance, jerking her forward, and she was spit out on the other side. Being kicked out of the void wrenched the warmth from her bones, shoving her back into the brutal world. Pain slammed into the marks along her spine like thousands of needles piercing her body as the runes rose toward the surface of her skin once more. The torque took longer to respond than normal, and she feared it was because the markings were growing in strength. Soon, the necklace wouldn’t be able to help regulate the pain at all.

She allowed herself a few seconds to mourn the loss of the peacefulness in the void, then shrugged it off and focused on the mission.

Finding and saving MacGregor.

Morgan was surprised to see the guys had arrived first.

Atlas was staring at the mirror, steadily flipping his knife, when his gaze caught hers. He fumbled the blade, slicing his finger. His perfect hair was ruffled for the first time, revealing his pointed ears.

They were…cute.

When she opened her mouth, Atlas tipped his head toward the center of the room.

Kincade prowled back and forth, everyone standing some distance away, dangerous energy snapping around him. His broad shoulders and impressive chest stretched his black shirt with his every move. His brows were lowered, his jaw clenched, everything about him lethal. He wasn’t handsome, more like striking, even more so with the pissed-off expression on his face.

Morgan stepped toward him, then stumbled when the world twisted away from under her feet.

After the void, this reality no longer felt familiar.

As soon as she stumbled, Kincade’s head snapped up. In seconds, he was at her side, catching her arm and yanking her up against him, knocking the breath out of her—no way would she admit she’d lost her breath for any other reason. Her palms tingled at the contact, the yummy static of him spreading up her arm. Her fingers craved to explore more, wanting to touch every inch of him.

This feeling was different from when she sensed magic.

Something more.

The scent of warm earth and hot stone eased the churn of nausea trying to twist her inside out. His pale green eyes scanned her face once, then again, as if to reassure himself. His arms tightened around her, and her heart skipped a betraying beat.

Then his brows slammed down, and he released her, dismissing the incident as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t feel the connection. “You should feel better soon. Vertigo is not an uncommon side effect of the void.”

Mortification burned her cheeks at the abrupt change, and she wondered if she’d imagined their connection. She jerked her eyes away from him to see Draven standing sentry by the door, the devil-may-care look gone. His blue eyes softened when they met hers, the dead look in them fading, and he gave her a quick nod of greeting. The black leathers he wore were slim, revealing his deceptively muscular body. Normally covered from head to toe, tonight he had his sleeves rolled up.

She gasped.

Every inch of his forearms was covered with scars.

Questions burned the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. It wasn’t her place to ask. Everyone had secrets. She had no right to pry, not unless she was willing to reveal her own.

Ryder stood by the windows, the big man nearly two heads taller than herself. His size should be impossible to miss, but he stood so still, it was unsettling. His skin was tinged a bit green, one hand gripping the window frame, and she wasn’t sure if it was to keep him upright or to keep him from ripping something apart. Instead of staring outside, his gaze was on her. His sandy brown hair was knotted, his whisky eyes practically glowing as he pinned her to the spot. Held tight in his right hand was her blade.

“Ryder?”

He blinked, his human side returning, and he dropped his gaze, turning away from her.

Instead of being relieved, his withdrawal only troubled her more.

Morgan turned away, surveying the room, and froze.

They had landed in MacGregor’s study, only the destruction was so complete, she hadn’t recognized it.

The total devastation gutted her as efficiently as a knife.

The once peaceful room was decimated. Books were yanked off the shelves, bindings ripped, pages shredded, the shelving snapped in half. The desk wasn’t in much better shape, the wood smashed into slivers no bigger than toothpicks. Even the bricks of the fireplace were broken and cracked. Everything that made the room her haven had been destroyed.

This went beyond rage.

This was complete annihilation.

As if, when they didn’t find what they wanted, they couldn’t contain their fury.

Her.

This was all because of her.

The room spun and twisted, breathing becoming a struggle.

She had to know. “MacGregor?” She winced at the hope in her voice. She knew exactly how unlikely it was for anyone to have survived.

Ryder eased closer to her, gently gathering her to his chest when she thought her knees would give out. She grabbed his shirt, barely managing to remain upright.

He ran his hands up and down her back soothingly, over and over, as if she was on the verge of shattering. She wasn’t sure he was wrong. He radiated heat, but it scarcely warmed the chill ghosting along her skin.

It took her a few moments to realize the rumbling in his chest was him speaking. “He’s not here. He must have gotten the witches out. He’s not here.”

Kincade’s sharp eyes scanned her face. “Ryder, stay here with her. The rest of us will scout the mansion and report back in five.” The men were already in motion when she shook her head.

Instead of abandoning her or cursing at her, Kincade offered her compassion.

“Wait.” She pushed away from Ryder, embarrassed by her meltdown. The wolf reluctantly released his hold, but remained within touching distance, and she wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or relieved. “I’ll be fine. We need to move fast. The longer we wait, the less likely the chance of finding survivors.”

Kincade strode toward her, his movements sleek and deadly. He grabbed her jaw, tipping up her face, his touch surprisingly gentle. He studied her, clearly undecided, and she knew he was going to leave her behind by the way his mouth tightened.

“If you leave, I’ll find a way to slip out of the mansion without you.” She jerked her chin away from his touch, her voice hardening. “I won’t wait for you to clear it. I’ve lived here for years, I’ve been ruthlessly hunted by the witches here, so I know every nook and cranny. From one step to the next, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but, much to her surprise, his lips curved slightly, and he nodded. “Lead the way.”

Without hesitation, Morgan headed toward the exit, her blades in her hands before she was aware of drawing them.

The door hung drunkenly from its hinges. She touched the wood, but the once-friendly magic had been completely drained. “Whoever attacked was organized and strong enough to take down a mansion imbued with magic, their sheer numbers overrunning the hunters.”

Kincade nodded in acknowledgment.

Taking his nod as approval, she shoved against the door, her blood whooshing in her ears as she slipped out of the study, terrified of what she would find.

As she crept into the foyer, the first thing she noticed was the powerful double doors had been ripped clear off the mansion, red dust exploding into the room, as if whatever managed the feat had torn the magic right out of it. The granite should have been indestructible, but cracks ran up to the ceiling, while sections of the floor were shattered. Scorch marks marred the once-pristine walls, evidence that the witches hadn’t given up without a fight.

The guys spread out behind her, Ryder and Kincade remaining close, the silence deafening as she processed what she was seeing.

Blood and guts stained the walls and ceilings, bits of human body parts strewn across the entryway. Following the trail, she saw the twisted bodies of the hunters littering the lawn like discarded toys, with their limbs missing and heads lopped clear off.

Then it clicked what she was seeing.

Only hunters.

“The witches are gone.”

The men glanced at each other, and she waved away their concern. “No, I mean all the bodies are men.”

Kincade cast a swift look at the remains, then swung around sharply. “Ryder?”

Without further prompting, Ryder closed his eyes and lifted his face to the air and inhaled, his large chest expanding, his muscles stretching impressively. “Whatever was here is gone. I smell blood and death, but nothing else in the immediate vicinity.” When he opened his eyes, the whisky color glowed as his wolf stared out at them. “I don’t sense any magic.”

Meaning the witches had escaped.

Possibly MacGregor as well.

“Spread out. Pair off. Keep each other in sight at all times.”

Morgan hurried toward the stairs, pausing at the bottom step when she saw Atlas disregard the order and head toward the basement alone. “Be careful. They have a lab down there where they run their experiments. If the creatures were set free from their cells, they may attack.” Morgan unconsciously rubbed her wrists. “Not all of them are exactly sane anymore.”

Kincade gave a jerk of his head, and Ryder quickly accompanied the elf.

With another hand signal, she watched Draven peel away and stand guard at the main door.

Then Kincade turned toward her and waited.

She took it as permission and leapt up the stairs two at a time. The damage upstairs wasn’t as thorough. At the top of the stairs, she headed straight toward the double doors. “This room was originally intended as a ballroom. The coven mimicked the original designs, but converted it to a gym and armory.” She gestured down the hallway. “There are two entrances, and this corridor wraps around the entire second floor. There are only about a dozen rooms along the way. The third floor has more.”

Kincade grimaced and reluctantly nodded. “I’ll take the third floor.”

She watched in amazement as he left, surprised that he actually accepted her assessment.

While Ryder might have confirmed no one inside remained alive, that didn’t mean there were no nasty surprises left behind.

Morgan opened the first door and began her own search.

Room after room, she found the same…nothing.

No bodies. No surprises. As she searched the last room on her floor, Morgan headed down the stairs, and walked toward Draven. “Nothing.”

She went to peer out the door, and Draven blocked her with his shoulder. “Don’t.”

Morgan swallowed hard, the brief glimpse she had of outside flashing in her mind. “That bad?”

He nodded, his face grim, his pale blue eyes dead.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Atlas and Ryder charged into the room. Both men were breathing heavily. Ryder’s eyes were a little wild, while Atlas’s usually hard eyes were soulless.

As Atlas came toward her, she gripped her weapons harder. “What the hell were they doing down there?”

Ryder’s attention snapped toward Atlas, and he took a step forward, ready to intervene, when she waved him off. The wolf studied her from head to toe, leaving her feeling exposed.

He saw too much.

He knew what it was like to be targeted by witches, how far they would go, and what little protection people like them had. She turned away from the promise of retribution in his eyes, refusing to allow herself to feel anything. It was a weakness she couldn’t afford.

Morgan narrowed her eyes at Atlas’s accusation, her heart going dead in her chest. “I don’t know. My guess, based on the time I spent chained down there as one of their experiments, is they were trying to find a way to harvest the magic from the creatures who escaped from the rifts—me included.”

He flinched, a telling sign when he normally revealed nothing.

Harvesting magic from a creature was a death sentence, a slow, agonizing way to die, much like having one’s soul ripped out.

“When I proved troublesome to them, resistant to their torture, MacGregor became curious and investigated.” Morgan’s smile was all teeth. “They lied and explained they were studying the creatures, cataloging their strengths and weaknesses. He, of course, didn’t believe their shit, and took me into his custody. Not everyone was so lucky.”

Morgan sheathed her blades, pulling her thick black hair off her back and trying it into a messy knot. “When a rift would open, I helped as many as I could escape, sending them back through the void. It only served to annoy the witches more.” She smiled up at Atlas. “You might say I was a pain in their asses. It was only a matter of time before they collected more. Rescuing them became trickier. More dangerous.”

“Jesus.” Draven’s voice was hoarse. “They could’ve killed you.”

Morgan shrugged. “Believe me, the witches tried. Good thing I proved to be hard to kill.”

Atlas blinked at her, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “He meant the creatures.”

Morgan paused, then placed her hands on her hips. “So, let me get this straight. Are you mad because I allowed the creatures to be held captive, or because I helped them escape? I’m confused.”

Draven edged between them, pushing a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “Morgan…”

She sighed the way his husky voice drew out her name, his affection melting her anger better than any siren magic. “I wasn’t in much danger. I had help. He wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

Her eyes burned as she remembered how Ascher had protected her, and how he ultimately suffered the consequences for it. She couldn’t allow these men to suffer the same fate. “MacGregor offered me what protection he could, but I’m a hunter. Your stupid rules make the witches untouchable. Don’t you think the others knew what was happening?” She pulled away and paced. “No one cares, not if it means they can access magic from the void. It’s pure. Undiluted.”

“That makes no sense.” Atlas frowned at her. “The magic in the void is too powerful. It would rip them apart.”

“Unless they can extract it from others—think of the subjects of the experiments like a filter. They take the abuse while the witches get the byproduct.”

Atlas glanced around the room, then peered out the door. “If what you say is true, it would be war. No one from the primordial realm would allow what the witches were doing to stand. This is retaliation.”

Morgan wanted to agree with him, but couldn’t speak the lie. “That’s one possibility.”

“What do you know?” Kincade’s deadly voice cut through the room, and the men parted to let him through.

It took conscious thought not to shift nervously under his hard stare. “I think they came for me.”

Kincade stopped only a foot from her, gripping his hair as if he would rip it out, his eyes on his feet. “You came here—insisted on coming—knowing they were hunting you?”

A tremor jolted through her at his ominous, rough voice. “I had no choice.”

His head snapped up as if he’d been jabbed with a cattle prod, a vein throbbing in his neck. “You put us all in danger with your selfish behavior.”

Her insides crumbled at his accusation, the words shattering her fragile hope for a future with them. The back of her throat aching that he would believe her capable of doing such a thing.

She thought they’d accepted her as one of them.

Ryder edged forward to come to her aid, but halted when Kincade snarled at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I came to keep you safe. I couldn’t let you walk into a trap.”

He snorted dismissively. “All you had to do was tell us.”

He spun away, as if unable to stand the sight of her, and her chest hollowed out at his rejection. “I was on my way to tell you when we were summoned. Then it was too late. I couldn’t tell you, because you would’ve left me behind.”

“Damned straight. You will stay here.” Kincade then proceeded to act like she didn’t exist. “Atlas, give the others the all-clear to bring the second team through. Ryder and Draven, scout the yard. We’ll move out in five.”

When he made to follow the others, Morgan stepped into his path, unable to escape the conviction that if she allowed him to leave without her, she would never see them again. “You need me to show you where the rift is located. If anyone survived, they would be there, trying to close the gate, and stemming the flow of creatures entering this realm.”

Morgan flinched when he lifted his head and looked at her.

His eyes were dead, devoid of all emotions. “No.”

“The longer you search for the rift, the more creatures will escape to wreak havoc.” She shoved away her foolish emotions, locking them down so she could do what she must, even if everyone on the team came to hate her. “If anyone survived, they are out there, waiting for help.”

“She’s right. Anyway, if we leave her, she will only figure out a way to follow us. She’ll be safer with us.” Atlas came to her rescue as he emerged from the office. “The others are on their way. We need to move.”

Kincade didn’t curse, didn’t react in any way as he studied her.

His skin rippled as something shifted beneath the surface, reminding her that he was something other as well. “You will remain at my side at all times. If you disobey, I won’t hesitate to knock you out, drag you back here, and shove you through the mirror back to the Academy myself. Understood?”

Morgan would have cheered if it didn’t feel like her heart was breaking. “Yes.”

She watched him walk out the door, but the distance between them was much greater.

“Give him time.”

Morgan gave a start when Atlas spoke from right in her ear. “What?”

“He’s worried about you and doesn’t know how to handle his protective instincts. Bringing you along goes against everything he holds dear, against how he was raised. He lost someone close to him, and it nearly destroyed him. You terrify him.”

Morgan snorted. “You’re wrong. I’m nothing more than a hunter, not one of his precious witches to be worshipped. It’s better he accept that now.”