Chapter 279

Olivia

I squared my shoulders, a renewed sense of purpose and determination burning in my core.

“No,” I said firmly. “I will not agree to your monstrous deal.”

The witch cocked her head to the side, a hint of genuine surprise flashing across her eyes. “You would risk everything over this?”

“Do you still think my mother was foolish?” I asked, holding the witch's gaze. “You told me that she had the choice to take a deal with one of your kind to cure her cancer. She refused, and she died. You said that she was naive, foolish even. But I don’t think so. She was wise. She knew the dangers of tangling with your kind, the impossible costs, the unbearable sacrifices.”

The witch’s face twisted in anger. “Your mother’s choices are of no consequence to me,” she spat.

But I saw through her. My words had hit a nerve, and it made her volatile, unpredictable.

“You think you can sway me with threats and promises, but you forget one thing,” I continued. “We wolves value our freedom, our families, our pack. We would rather die on our feet than live on our knees. Especially when it comes to the whims of witches.”

The witch’s expression grew stormy. Her fingers danced in intricate patterns as she began to murmur incantations under her breath. I felt the very air around us thicken, charged with dark energy. The walls of the cave trembled, and I heard an ominous crack from above.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I screamed and dove to the side. An enormous stalactite, sharpened to a deadly point, crashed down where I had stood moments earlier. It impaled the ground with such force that the tip stopped a hair’s breadth from my face.

I lay there, still and panting, the icy point of the stalactite casting a cold shadow over my face. The reality of the near-death experience coursed through me, leaving my limbs trembling and my heart racing.

The witch’s laughter, cruel and mocking, echoed throughout the cavern. “You may be resilient, Olivia, but I wonder how many more times you can dodge fate.”

With immense effort, I pushed myself up, swiping a strand of hair away from my sweat-drenched forehead. My eyes never left the witch’s smirk, and I tried to channel every ounce of defiance I could muster.

“And I wonder,” I began, voice shaky but determined, “how many more games you’ll play before you realize I won’t be broken or coerced.”

The witch’s smirk faltered for a split second, but she quickly regained her composure. Her fingers played with a silver pendant hanging around her neck, her gaze darkening. “You test my patience. Will you take my deal or not?”

Drawing from an inner reservoir of strength, thinking of Aurora, Nathan, and all I held dear, I met her gaze unflinchingly. “I would rather face a thousand falling stalactites than surrender my daughter to the likes of you.”

The witch’s laughter, bitter and biting, filled the space around us. “Your resolve is admirable, Olivia. But sometimes, what we want and what we must do diverge. Allow me to...enlighten you.” She punctuated her words with a chilling smile.

The world spun around me, and for a moment, I was disoriented.

Then the fog lifted, and I found myself standing on the edges of a familiar clearing, bathed in the cold glow of the moon. The sight before me stopped my heart—Nathan, locked in fierce combat with Alvin. Their dance was lethal, a deadly ballet under the night sky.

Nathan moved with the grace of the practiced warrior, but the malicious gleam in Alvin’s eye was unsettling. As I watched, time seemed to slow, and my heart lurched as Alvin’s massive jaws found its mark, piercing Nathan’s side. There was a sickening crunch, and then he crumpled to the ground, his once vibrant eyes now dim.

“NO!” I screamed, though my voice held no sound, no power in this twisted reality.

The scene shifted, and a chilling claustrophobia set in. I was back in the cave, but its walls were closing in around me, relentless and unforgiving. My breaths came out in desperate gasps, each more labored than the last. The oppressive weight threatened to crush me, darkness tugging at the edges of my vision.

I tried to move, to shout, to do something, but the encroaching walls muted my every attempt. Panic surged through me.

The vision morphed again, painting an even grimmer picture. My Elliot, strong and independent, was all grown up.

But he was the Alpha of the Redclaws. He stood in front of a mirror, shirtless, and slowly turned; my eyes widened as I saw the whip marks covering his back. Years of torture had turned him docile and bitter. The pain and confusion in his eyes stabbed at my very soul.

Then, the distant, haunting cries of Aurora pierced the silence. I turned, my heart sinking further, to see her ensnared by the witch’s magic. The innocence and joy she usually exuded were now replaced with a shadowy dread. As an adult, she was beautiful, but she was also dark and devoid of emotion. A shell of the giggling baby that I held in my arms.

All around her, animal corpses lay littered across the ground. With a flick of her slender wrist, she made another animal bend to her will. She had no memory of me, Elliot, or Nathan. All she knew were the witch’s teachings.

And then, the final, most harrowing blow: the Elders, those who had once been allies, now ruled with iron fists. Friends, who had laughed and cried with me, were bound in chains, their spirit crushed under the tyranny of those they had once trusted. At the entrance of the Council chambers, Freya’s lifeless body hung from a rafter.

She had helped me try to resist, and now she served as an example for anyone else who dared to try the same.

Tears blurred my vision as the horrifying tableau faded, replaced by the cold, damp cave and the witch’s satisfied expression.

“Now, Olivia,” she cooed, her voice dripping with malicious delight, “do you understand the weight of your choices?”

I tried to steady my breathing, the vividness of the visions leaving me shaken. “Those...those were just illusions. Tricks of your twisted magic.”

The witch leaned in, her face inches from mine. I could see the age lines etched into her skin, every wrinkle a testament to centuries of dark arts.

“Every vision you saw is a possibility, a fragment of a future that can very well come to pass. The first vision is happening now, as we speak.”

My eyes widened. I imagined Nathan outside the mines, grappling with Alvin. What if he died before I could get to him?

Her words weighed heavily on me. “But there has to be another way, some other solution that doesn’t involve giving up my daughter,” I said, the panic becoming evident in my voice.

Her eyes, cold and calculating, studied me for a moment. “There is only one possibility to change the course of these visions,” she whispered. “Become the Ancient Wolf. Harness that power, and perhaps you can change this foreseen fate. But you see, I am holding the final key to completing your little ritual.”

“But…” I hesitated, the implications of her words swirling in my mind.

Sensing my inner turmoil, she added, “You can have until Aurora turns three. Spend those years with her, cherish them. But after that, she is mine.”

The walls of the cave groaned, an eerie reminder of our precarious situation. And then, barely audible over the rumbles, my wolf spoke, her voice echoing deep within me.

“We have to survive now, Olivia. Accept her terms. We’ll find another way later.”

The visions I’d seen, the potential future of pain, loss, and betrayal, haunted my every thought. The choice, though impossibly hard, became clear.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, I nodded slowly, tears streaming down my face. “I’ll do it,” I whispered, sealing mine and my daughter’s fate.