Labyrinth Wolves (Into the Labyrinth Book 2), page 36
The meeting on Cavenaugh. It wasn’t with a stranger.
“You were the one Father met with?”
Jorin frowned. “That should have been the end. But instead of handing them over, Gerald vanished in mysterious fashion, leaving the line of succession hazy. It was my biggest mistake not going to Haven anyway to make good on my word.”
Father vanished into the labyrinth to seek protection for us.
And Jorin, he had to watch Father’s heir show up four years later, without a clue who the real enemy was.
Jorin went on. “You’ve no idea what a surprise you were to me, Serenity. I liked you, I really did. But you stood in the way of my dreams, so I couldn’t let you stay.”
Vincent hadn’t pulled me into this labyrinth alone. Jorin was always there to help him. He’d even posted my letters to purchase keys. He happily led us to the place that should have been our deaths.
Jorin lowered his sword, water dripping from its edge, his expression a mask of cold resolve.
“What have you become?” Father asked.
“The man you taught me to be,” he answered simply. “A man who fights for my future.”
Before the weight of those words could settle, Vincent crashed through the gate behind him.
He stumbled for a moment, half slipping on the rain-slicked stone, then caught himself and threw back his shoulders with a ragged laugh. His coat clung to him, torn where the labyrinth’s branches had clawed at him, and wet hair hung wild across his brow. But his grin—sharp and alive—had lost none of its cruelty.
The sight of the clearing—the white tree looming like a god’s altar, the black cage cradling Gerald’s body, the four of us standing between them—lit something bright and cold in Vincent’s eyes.
He brushed a lock of drenched hair back from his face with the easy arrogance of a man who believed the storm came to greet him.
“Well, well,” Vincent drawled. “Look what the labyrinth dragged in.” His gaze swept past us, past the weapons raised and the rage burning in our eyes, and settled on Gerald. A slow, sharp smile curled his lips. “I almost missed you. How long has it been? Eight years?”
Gerald said nothing, but I saw his fingers curl faintly against the vines, a flicker of hatred sparking in his tired eyes as he looked between Jorin and Vincent. His enemy and his best friend, united together.
The storm cracked overhead, waiting for someone to make the first move, and my hands itched to be the one. But Clark was meant to come back. Him fighting alongside us would increase our odds.
Vincent removed his sword from its sheath with a hiss of steel. He rolled his wrist once, testing the weight as if this fight were nothing more than a warm-up.
“I have my other son back,” he said, voice rich with cruel satisfaction. “So no need to spare this one.”
Leif’s shoulders tensed beside me.
Jorin gave a single nod, calm and cold as ever. Then his gaze flicked past us to Tove. And for the first time since he stepped into the clearing, his mask slipped, just slightly.
“You’ll live if you stay away,” Jorin said. “You still have a home on the Silver Wings.”
Pain flashed across Tove’s face. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, the wrapped bandages darkening with rain. When she spoke, her voice was steady, but it shook beneath the surface.
“You’re a coward,” she spat.
Jorin flinched. His mouth pressed into a thin, regretful line. “So be it.”
Before the silence could stretch, movement stirred at the edge of the clearing.
Clark in wolf form came through the gate with a growl on his lips. The sight of him made my heart surge with relief. The only trick now would be getting Vincent to take Gerald’s place, which should be easy if we got him close to death. He’d do anything to spare his life. Then Gerald would be free, and all we’d have left to do would be bleed upon the tree.
Hopefully all before Dimitri showed.
Time was key now. I gave Clark a nod, and prepared to fight.
A second shadow appeared beside Clark.
The shadow took form. Dimitri. His pale gaze swept over us like a predator tasting the air. Clark stood at his side, the wolf at his master’s heel.
“There they are, just like I promise,” Clark told Dimitri. The shape of his meaning wasn’t hard to decipher. Here for the slaughter.
“Then let’s kill them, shall we?”
My relief collapsed into something hollow and cold.
He’d betrayed us.
Clark—the boy who once bled beside me, who once promised he’d protect me—had brought Dimitri straight to our door.
For the first time since seeing him alive in the labyrinth, I truly accepted that we’d lost him.
I raised my dagger and flicked it toward Jorin’s heart.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Jorin batted it away with his sword. The clang of steel sent the rest of the clearing into action.
The storm broke fully overhead, drowning the clearing in sound. Thunder cracked the sky wide open. The ground shook beneath our feet while wind tore through the bone-white trees, sending leaves and splinters whipping through the air like blades.
While the rest of us balanced ourselves on the moving ground, Jorin had been at sea longest, and found his footing first.
He took one fluid step, and the flat of his sword cracked against Tove’s temple before any of us could react.
Her gasp barely escaped before her knees buckled. She crumpled, hitting the earth hard, her braid trailing behind her like a fallen banner.
“Tove!” I lunged forward, but Jorin was already turning toward me.
The rain blurred the space between us, his figure shifting in and out of focus, sword glinting pale. Water streamed from his coat, from his jaw, as if the storm itself bled through him.
“Lay down your sword now, and I promise to let Tove live,” Jorin pleaded with me.
I raised my sword, gripping the hilt until my knuckles burned. “She was right. You’re a coward.”
Then we met.
The first clash rang out sharp and high, metal striking metal, a shockwave running down my arms. His blade pressed against mine, pushing me back on slick stone, boots sliding against moss and mud. I dug in, shifting my weight low, letting the ground catch me before I fell.
We broke apart in the next breath.
He lunged again, faster this time, rain slicing sideways across the clearing. I turned my blade to catch his strike. The force rattled my teeth.
Every strike of his sword came with precision—like a teacher testing a student—and I hated that I recognized his rhythm. That many times, not too long ago, we’d trained together on the decks of the Silver Wings.
Lightning flashed white across the clearing, turning us both into silhouettes.
I ducked low, swinging for his ribs, but he spun out of reach, his coat snapping behind him like the lash of a whip.
“Every bit of soldier that you are is because I made you that way,” Jorin said. “You can’t beat me.”
“We will see.” I brought my sword down hard.
He caught the blow and twisted, sending shock rippling through my shoulder. We locked blades again, faces close enough for me to see the water dripping from his lashes, to smell the bitter scent of steel and rain on his breath.
But this fight was only half the battle.
Across the clearing, Vincent had advanced with his sword dragging a shallow line through the mud as he went. Each step brought him closer to Leif and Harald, his grin wide, his shoulders relaxed, as if he were stepping into a family dinner instead of a fight.
“Come, boy,” Vincent called to Leif. “Let’s see if your blood remembers how to lose.”
Leif squared his stance with his blades crossed in front of him. Beside him, Harald shifted, adjusting his grip, rain running down the scar across his cheek.
But they weren’t alone.
At the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in the shadows where the white trees knotted thickest, Clark crouched. His body was low, muscles coiled, paws flexing against the earth.
His gaze locked on me for a moment—hungry, torn, waiting.
But Dimitri’s voice cut through the storm. “Not yet.”
Clark obeyed.
“Your time will come.” Dimitri stepped forward just a fraction. “Let them tear themselves apart first, then we claim the pieces.”
I waited for the Stone Gods to rescue us. Either they were dead, or they were enjoying the show. No one came.
The wind howled through the trees, and the labyrinth groaned on its chains, swinging hard enough that the earth beneath us tilted and buckled.
Another clash rang out as Jorin pressed me back, sword gliding along mine in a long, scraping hiss. I held my balance. My pulse thundered in my ears, too loud, too fast.
But I didn’t fall.
I would not fall. Not before my father. Not before any of them.
Jorin smiled faintly. “Let’s see how long you last.”
He came at me again.
Jorin drove me backward, strike after strike, his blade flashing. My arms burned with the effort of keeping pace. Every time I found my footing, he tore it away.
“Serenity—” my father’s voice broke from the cage, raw and desperate. “Stop. Stop this! Let him take me and be done with it. I’m the one he wants. Kill me, and spare my daughter!”
Jorin only smiled. It was a cold, hollow smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“The last of Dimitri’s line will fall,” Jorin said. His sword swung high, angled for my throat. “And this cursed story will end where it began.”
I braced for the blow—
But then Tove appeared.
She moved like a shadow through the rain. Before Jorin could bring his sword down, she was there—reaching out with one hand, her bandages undone.
Her palm pressed flat against his chest.
For a split second, his body locked. Sword still raised. Breath caught halfway.
Then death tore through him.
Jorin dropped without a sound. No final words, no grand fall. Just an abrupt, graceless collapse, his blade slipping from his fingers as he hit the earth. Rain splashed across his lifeless form, soaking the ground beneath him.
Tove stood over him, face pale, hands trembling at her sides, and cried bitter tears.
I had no time to breathe. Beyond the fallen body, I saw Dimitri. He wasn’t watching us. His gaze was fixed elsewhere, staring through the storm with something like delight. His lips curved in a terrible smile.
I followed his gaze.
To Leif.
Before I could cry out a warning, movement flashed beside him.
I turned just in time to see Vincent with wicked grin still plastered across his face drive his blade down hard across Harald’s arm. The crack of steel against bone rang sharp through the clearing. Harald staggered. His sword slipped from his grasp and blood poured red against the white stones.
Harald’s arm hung limp in shreds.
He clamored backwards, just as Vincent turned to Leif. Leif had already been struck down, and his sword wasn’t in his hand. A new kind of fear struck me, one that cut deep.
No, no, no.
I had to get to his side.
My legs wouldn’t move me fast enough. I sprinted across the stones with my axe raised, but nothing would get me there in time.
In desperation, I raised my axe above my head and threw it.
It stuck Vincent true.
As he went down, Clark jumped over Vincent’s body to dig his teeth into Leif’s ribs and tear.
FIFTY-NINE
I ran.
Ran past Vincent’s gasp of pain, past the echo of my own ragged breath, past the white tree and the black cage and the storm crashing overhead.
All I saw was Leif.
He was down on one knee, one hand pressed to his ribs where Clark’s teeth had torn through flesh and bone. Blood streamed between his fingers, vivid and dark against the storm-washed stone.
And worse—the familiar heartbeat tattoo on my arm thundered wildly, pulsing so fast it blurred into a constant thrum of fear.
Clark stood over him, chest heaving, fangs slick with blood. His eyes met mine.
“Now he and I are even.”
“Even? He didn’t kill you. He offered you the antidote.”
But Clark’s eyes were wild things. “He was my enemy. Now he is dead.”
There was no warmth in him. And no forgiveness in me.
“Go!” I screamed. “Leave us, Clark. Now!”
He hesitated, claws flexing against the stones, as if some part of him still wavered—still listened. But the storm crackled above us, and Tove’s voice tore through it.
“Vincent’s dying!” she shouted. “If you’re going to set your father free, it’s now or never!”
Harald, injured as he was, knelt to Vincent’s side. The man was trying to staunch the bleeding, but his eyes were losing focus. I wasn’t certain he could hear Harald as he said, “Trade your place for Gerald’s and we will save you.”
It was a lie. A desperate one. But it was all we had.
Dimitri crossed the clearing in a flash to drive one hand against Vincent’s chest and close his fist against his throat like a vice. For a horrible moment, I thought he was going to save Vincent and we’d lose all leverage to free Gearld.
But he didn’t. He squeezed.
Dimitri smiled. “No trades,” he whispered. “No mercy.”
And he wrenched the life from Vincent’s body as if tearing out the heart of the labyrinth itself.
Vincent crumpled at his feet, lifeless.
In the aftermath, all I heard was the ragged sound of Leif’s breathing.
I dropped to my knees beside him, sliding through the mud, reaching for his face with trembling hands.
“Leif,” I whispered, choking on his name.
His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, but soft when they found me.
“Looks like I can’t save you after all.”
A desperate scream tore through me. “Dimitri!” I roared, voice cracking as I turned to where he stood, watching like a god amused by our ruin. “Save him! I’ll give you whatever you want! My life, my soul, my place in the labyrinth—anything!”
But Dimitri only tilted his head. His cold smile faded to indifference. He said nothing.
Beside me, Leif’s hand caught mine. “No,” he whispered. “Don’t you dare. Not for me.”
The words broke me.
I turned back to him to clutch his hand tight against mine. “Of course for you. Everything I am is for you.” The heartbeat tattoo on my arm still pounded, but slower now. Thready, uneven, fading like the light from his eyes.
I begged next to the sky. To the Stone Gods. To whatever cruel powers ruled this place.
But no one came.
No one answered.
Behind us, voices clashed—shouts, the clang of swords, the crack of thunder—but my world narrowed until it was only Leif’s face, pale and rain-slick, barely holding on.
“Don’t you dare leave me,” I whispered fiercely. I brushed his hair back from his brow. “Stay. Stay with me. Please.”
His breath hitched.
“Don’t close your eyes.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Not until I have to.” His words grew quieter. “I wouldn’t miss the last sight of you.”
Blood filled his throat, and he coughed, shuddering against my chest. I pressed his hand tighter against my cheek and ignored the heat of tears burning down my face.
“It’s okay,” I choked out. “Everything is going to be fine.”
But his eyes were growing distant.
His fingers trembled against my skin, still trying to comfort me even now.
“I love you,” I whispered, voice breaking apart. “I love you. Stay with me. Please.”
He managed a faint smile. His eyes fluttered once, twice.
“I know you do,” he breathed, the words barely there. “I’ve never deserved you, but maybe with this, I can be worthy.”
And then, like the storm’s final breath, he breathed, “I trade my place for Gerald’s, to be caged in the labyrinth.”
He reached toward cage. In a flash, Leif’s body disappeared, only to reappear inside the hold of the twisted vines. They held him loosely as if they knew this was not a prisoner who would put up a fight.
My father appeared at my side.
I threw myself at the cage to demand Leif returned, just as Delilah showed up. She stood in the space between us and Dimitri with a sad look across her perfect features.
“Delilah, please. I beg you to save him.”
“It is too late, fearless one.”
The tattoo on my arm had stopped beating.
SIXTY
Delilah knelt beside Harald to press her glowing fingers to the torn skin of his arm. I heard the quiet murmur of her healing magic beneath the storm’s hum like it belonged to a world far from this one.
When she finished, Harald tried to lift his arm and winced, the effort pulling a sharp breath through his teeth. His sword hand hung useless at his side.
“It’s the best I can do,” Delilah said softly, her voice carrying the weight of apology. “The damage is too deep.”
I watched them as if from underwater. Their voices were distant echoes in the hollow space where my heart had been beating.
My knees still sank in the mud beside Leif’s body, my hand resting against the cooling skin of his chest. His blood stained my palms, still warm but fading fast. I couldn’t seem to move. Couldn’t seem to breathe without breaking apart.
The storm kept raging as if the world hadn’t noticed he was gone.
Slowly, I turned to face Dimitri.
“It’s done,” I said, each word heavy as stone. “He’s dead. Just like you wanted.”
But Dimitri only smiled, his pale face calm in the chaos.
“Ah, but you weren’t the one to kill him, and that was the deal. As it is…” He spread his arms wide, as if delivering a simple fact, “I’ll have to kill you as well.”
The wind screamed overhead. Relentless rain battered my shoulders.
