Chapter 5 The Enemy Lurks

Zach didn't answer right away. He stared at the book, his expression hard. "We figure out what the prophecy means. And then we stop whatever's coming."

"And if we can't?" Lyorine asked, her voice barely audible.

Zach's gaze flicked to hers, his jaw tightening. "We don't have that option."

The room fell deadly silent. The crackling of the fire in the hearth was the only sound between them. Lyorine's heart thudded in her chest as Zach's words hung in the air, heavier than the weight of the prophecy itself. She knew he meant every word. Failure wasn't an option for Zach Killian, not as Alpha, not as a man cursed by destiny. But the unspoken fear lingered between them-what if they were already too late?

Before Lyorine could say anything more, the tension was shattered by a thunderous bang from the front door. The sound reverberated through the house, making her flinch. Zach immediately straightened, his body tense, his eyes sharp as a blade.

"Stay here," he commanded, his voice low but firm.

"What? No!" Lyorine shot up from her seat, her hands already glowing faintly with the beginnings of a spell. "I'm not just going to sit here while-"

"Lyorine, I'm not asking." His tone was cold, final. "Stay. Here."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced her. It wasn't anger-it was fear. Not for himself, but for her. She swallowed hard and nodded reluctantly. Zach gave her one last glance before striding out of the room, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor.

As soon as he disappeared, Lyorine clenched her fists. "Stay here," she muttered under her breath. "Yeah, right."

She crept after him, keeping to the shadows, her bare feet silent against the floorboards. Whatever was at the door, it wasn't going to wait for Zach to open it with a warm welcome.

***

Zach swung the door open, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. Standing on the porch were three figures cloaked in dark, tattered robes. Their hoods obscured their faces, but the air around them crackled with an unnatural energy. Witches.

"What do you want?" Zach growled, his voice low and dangerous.

One of the witches stepped forward, her movements smooth and deliberate. When she spoke, her voice was like silk laced with poison. "Alpha Zach Killian, we've come to collect what belongs to us."

Zach's eyes narrowed. "You have no business here."

"Oh, but we do." The witch tilted her head slightly, her hood slipping back just enough to reveal sharp, angular features and piercing green eyes. "Lyorine Josephine is ours. She was always meant to return to the coven. Did you really think you could keep her hidden from us?"

"She's not going anywhere," Zach snapped. His stance widened slightly, his presence radiating an unspoken challenge. "You can tell Kaelith that if she wants to take Lyorine, she'll have to go through me."

The witch smirked. "You're bold for a man who can't even shift into his wolf."

Zach's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "Leave. Now."

The smirk faded from the witch's face, replaced by a look of cold disdain. "You don't understand, do you? This isn't a request. This is a warning. You're meddling in forces far beyond your control, Alpha. Release Lyorine to us, or you'll regret it."

"Try me," Zach growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down Lyorine's spine as she watched from the shadows. She could feel the tension in the air, the power radiating off both sides like opposing forces of nature ready to collide.

The witch stared at Zach for a long moment before stepping back. "You've made your choice," she said softly. "Don't say we didn't warn you."

With a flick of her wrist, the air around the witches shimmered, and they disappeared into the night, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent of burnt herbs.

***

Zach slammed the door shut, his hands trembling with barely contained rage. He turned, only to find Lyorine standing in the hallway, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing with defiance.

"I told you to stay in the room," Zach said, his voice clipped.

"And I told you I wasn't just going to sit there," Lyorine shot back. She took a step closer to him, her frustration evident in every movement. "What the hell was that about, Zach? Who were they?"

"They were witches," Zach replied flatly, brushing past her toward the living room. "Kaelith's people."

"And they want me." It wasn't a question. Lyorine's voice was steady, but Zach could hear the edge of fear beneath the surface. "Why?"

Zach froze, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers. "Because you're one of them."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. "What?"

"You're a witch, Lyorine. You always have been." Zach's voice softened slightly, but his expression remained guarded. "They think you belong to them because of your bloodline."

Lyorine shook her head, her mind racing. "That doesn't make sense. I don't even remember my past-how could they possibly-"

"They don't care about your memory," Zach interrupted. "All they care about is your power. And trust me, they'll do whatever it takes to get their hands on it."

Her stomach churned at the thought. "What kind of power?"

Zach hesitated, and in that moment, she knew the answer was worse than she could have imagined. "The kind that could destroy everything," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

***

The silence that followed was suffocating. Lyorine sank onto the couch, her mind reeling. She had always known there was something different about her, something that set her apart. But this? A witch? A power that could destroy everything? It was too much.

Zach stood by the fireplace, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. For once, he didn't know what to say. He had spent years facing danger, making impossible decisions, but this-this was different. This was personal.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing," Lyorine said suddenly, breaking the silence. "If they're coming for me, I need to know why. I need to know who I am."

Zach turned to her, his expression unreadable. "And what if you don't like what you find?"

She met his gaze, her jaw set with determination. "I don't care. I can't keep running from this, Zach. I need answers. We need answers."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hated that she was right. But the thought of her walking into danger, of losing her to the witches or worse-it was enough to make his chest tighten with fear.

Before he could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Marcus appeared in the doorway, his face pale. "We have a problem."

"What now?" Zach asked, his tone sharp.

Marcus glanced at Lyorine before looking back at his brother. "The witches aren't the only ones after her. Amara's been talking to someone-someone outside the pack."

Zach's eyes darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Who?"

"I don't know yet," Marcus admitted. "But if she's working with the witches..."

"She's not working with them," Lyorine said suddenly, her voice firm. Both Zach and Marcus turned to her in surprise.

"How can you be so sure?" Marcus asked, his skepticism evident.

"Because if she were, they wouldn't have bothered to come here tonight," Lyorine replied. "They wouldn't need to. Amara's playing her own game, and we need to figure out what it is."

Zach nodded slowly. "Then we'll deal with her. But first..." He turned to Lyorine, his expression serious. "We need to figure out what Kaelith wants with you. And we need to do it fast."

Lyorine swallowed hard, her mind racing. She didn't know what lay ahead, but one thing was certain: her past was catching up to her, and there was no running from it now.

"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice steady despite the fear twisting in her gut.

Zach's eyes met hers, his jaw tightening. "We find Kaelith. And we make her talk."

The room fell silent once more, the weight of Zach's words hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, none of them spoke, their minds racing with the enormity of what lay ahead.

Then, Marcus broke the silence. "And if she doesn't talk?"

Zach's gaze flicked to his brother, his expression cold and unyielding. "Then we make her."