If he did, he risked connecting with Christy again. He wanted to find her more than anything. But he wouldn’t let that happen. He’d protect her with his dying breath.

“You alright, boy?” Magda croaked.

He glanced over at the old witch as she stared at him through the cell bars. “Tired,” he muttered.

“Get some sleep. I’ll shield you.” Her brows drew together. The strain of fending off constant attacks had taken a toll on her. “No, you rest.” He reached out, squeezed her gnarled hand. “I’m fine. Stop trying to protect me.”

Magda brushed her long matted grey hair off her ashen face, rubbing at the dark smudges under her eyes. “Can’t stop – I won’t let them use you to find Christy.”

“How can they?” Ronan asked. “Why do they think I know where she is?”

“You’re an outsider. Oren senses the bond between you and Christy.”

“Bond?” He frowned. “What bond?”

He had heard stories of the legendary bonds between male and female shifters, but everyone dismissed it. “Bonds are just a myth, Mags.”

She let out a snort. “There’s more magic in your world than any of you shifters can imagine, my boy,” she rasped. “You’ve always felt connected to Christy, haven’t you?”

He shrugged. “She’s the only real friend I’ve made here – aside from you.”

Magda’s green eyes looked black as they flashed with anger. “Ronan, stop pretending you don’t have feelings for her. You’re going to need them and the bond to get through this.”

“I gave into my feelings and look what’s happened! If I hadn’t...” He sighed. “I should have gotten her out of there.”

“She escaped. That’s what matters,” Magda said. “The bond...”

“Enough, Mags! I don’t care about any bond!” His hands balled into fists. He’d stay away from Christy if it meant keeping his safe from Alec finding her.

The old witch sat up, gripped the bars so hard her knuckles turned white as her gaze bored into him. “Ronan Walker, you listen to me right now. You do not get to give up. You’re a beta, a clan leader, betas don’t give up on their mates or clans.”

Ronan folded his arms, straightened up against the wall. “Magda, my clan was wiped out a long time ago. I’m no beta, and how the hell can Christy ever be my mate?”

She let out a breath. “You must believe. Christy will need your strength too – just as you need hers,” she rasped. “You’ll both have to work together. It’s the only way to save the future of the clan and the island.”

“Which clan? The Stargaza is gone – just like my people were erased too,” he snapped. “You’re talking nonsense. I can’t reach Christy from in here.”

“You’ve seen her in your dreams, haven’t you?” Magda raised her chin, giving him a questioning look.

“Even if I have, I can’t control them, and I won’t dare risk leading Oren to her.”

“Focus. You have power too.” Her eyes shot to the end of the passageway.

The sound of the door creaking open banished all fatigue. Ronan sat up, heart pounding. Was Magda right? Was that how he saw Christy in his dreams? Maybe that was why Oren kept torturing him with visions.

Oren entered the dungeon, the orange rays from the torch chasing away the shadows. Oren’s dark eyes glittered as he wrenched the cell door open. “You look tired, boy. Haven’t you had any rest?”

Ronan glared up at him, feeling rage heat his blood. His inner wolf demanded revenge. This man had taken everything from him. His family, his clan. He remembered being a five-year-old boy, watching Oren. Smoke filling his lungs, the flash of red as fire had engulfed his home when Oren had burned it to the ground.

“I won’t sleep,” he snarled. He let the wolf gain control, felt his muscles start to shift – and doubled over in agony. “What did you do to me?” Ronan demanded.

“I bound you so you can’t change shape. You’re strong – powerful too.” Oren grinned. “I look forward to taking your magic from you.”

Oren raised his hand, forcing Ronan’s eyes to snap shut.

“Stay strong, Ronan,” Magda hissed. “I’m with you.”

“Quiet, witch!” Oren snapped.

Blackness swallowed Ronan up, he tried to resist, knew it was pointless. Instead, he found himself standing inside the kitchen of the flat he’d shared with Christy in London. Bright rays of sunlight glared through the window, the groan and snarl of traffic echoed in the background, just the way he remembered it.

Oren enjoyed tormenting him with this memory of the place he and Christy had been happy in.

“Hey, what you standing about for?” Christy came in, hooking her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.” Dressed in her usual red leather jacket and jeans, she looked as real as his surroundings.

“Go where?” He frowned.

“To see the others. Come on, Ronan.” She reached up, kissed him. “They’re waiting for us.”

“Who?” Ronan glanced around the room, the white cupboards started to blur. “This isn’t real.”

She laughed. “Ronan, come on. Stop being silly. The other outsiders are waiting for us. Show me where they are.”

“No!”

Ronan forced himself out of the dream. His temples throbbed, head pounding. The dungeon’s gloom swam back into view, along with Oren’s curses.

“You can’t keep her location a secret forever, boy.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know where she is.” He clutched his head, wincing from the pain.

“You’re a mongrel, you know where the other mongrels are on this island,” the warlock said. “You’ll give up their location, but first...” He turned to Magda. “Enough of your meddling.”

Magda screamed, doubled over in pain, hands on her stomach.

Ronan scrambled up, forced back by an invisible power when he tried to grab Oren through the bars. “What did you do to her? Stop it, you bastard, or I’ll kill you!”

Oren laughed. “You have no power over me, Ronan Walker. The witch’s powers are bound now. She can’t shield you any longer. I’ll be back later. If you don’t feel like talking...” He glanced at Magda. “She’ll suffer for it.” He turned, stormed out.

“Magda, are you alright?” Ronan put his arm through the bars, touched her knee.

She took a few deep breaths, nodded. “I’ll live – you have to start using your own power. Oren can’t touch it since you’re a beta – but that strength won’t last much longer.”

Ronan looked away. He didn’t have power, not real power. Sure, he knew a bit of magic, but nothing like Christy or Magda could do. It hadn’t saved his family either. “Magda–”

She gripped his wrist. “Do you want to see Christy again?”

He thought of the beautiful brown-eyed brunette he’d loved for so long. “Of course.”

“Good, then you need to use power inside of you.”

“What about the curse? I can’t use much magic,” he pointed out.

“Your connection to Christy lessens the curse’s effects.”

Ronan thought for a moment. If using this so-called power meant he could see Christy again and save Magda he’d use it. “What must I do?”

Magda started by teaching him to form a mental shield with his mind. “A basic shield will stop Oren from taking complete control. It allows you to know when something is a trick – like you did earlier,” she explained. “Imagine it forming.”

Ronan closed his eyes, tried imagining a shield. Nothing happened. What kind of shield? What’s it supposed to look like? Shields can look like a lot of different things.

“Imagine a shield of energy surrounding you, protecting you,” Magda continued.

He gritted his teeth. “I told you I’m no good with magic.”

“You can create fire – that takes strength and skill. Concentrate.”

After what seemed like hours, he slumped back against the wall, feeling exhaustion overwhelming him as he closed his eyes.

The dungeon faded as Ronan found himself back in the flat’s kitchen. It looked just as it had earlier.

Ronan gritted his teeth. Oh, not again! I won’t give you what you want, Oren!

“Ronan?”

He turned, saw Christy standing in the doorway. This time she wore a rumpled green sweater and torn jeans. “Just go to hell, Oren!” he snarled.

“What? I’m not Oren.” She came over, touched his face. “Ro, listen...”

“Don’t!” He shoved her hand away. “I know you’re not real.”

“Ronan Atlas Walker, don’t you dare tell me I’m not real,” Christy snapped, hands on hips. “I wouldn’t be putting myself at risk like this if I didn’t care about you.”

Ronan covered his eyes. “Go away, stop trying to torment me, Oren!”

She slapped his face so hard his head snapped back. “Ronan, listen to me. I need to know you’re alright. Tell me where you are.”

He blinked. The pain felt real as his face throbbed from the blow.

More real than anything else he’d experienced during captivity.

“Christy? How do I...”

She grabbed his shirt and kissed him, hard then pulled away. “Is that real enough?” she muttered. “Listen, I’m with–”

“No, don’t tell me. Oren has been getting into my mind. I won’t lead him to you.” Ronan squeezed her hand. “I need you to promise me you won’t come to find me.”

Christy’s mouth fell open. “How can you ask me that?”

“I mean it, Chris. It’s too dangerous.” He gripped her hand tighter.

She shook her head. “You’re not my guard anymore.”

“Maybe not, but it’s still my job to keep you safe though.”

She wrapped her arms around him tight. “I will get you out of there,” she promised. “Alec will pay for everything he’s done.”