Chapter 2

The fire.

It wasn't natural.

It burned too hot, too fast, driven by an unnatural wind.

It devoured the Silverwood, our homes, our people.

I saw the flames reflected in Jax's eyes at a press event just days later, him talking about the "tragic accident" and his plans to "revitalize" the area.

I had confronted him there, a ghost from his past he thought was buried in the cinders.

"You did this," I whispered, my voice raw.

Surprise flickered across his face, then something harder.

His men were on me in an instant, quiet, efficient.

They brought me here, to this lodge built on the edge of our smoking, ruined land.

He wanted to clear the land, Tiffany wanted her revenge, and the fire was their solution.

My tribe, peaceful, small, gone.

I was the last Spirit Keeper, the only one left who knew the old ways, the rituals, the songs.

The weight of it pressed down on me, heavier than my physical weakness.

Jax finally turned from the fireplace, his eyes sweeping over the room, landing on me.

No recognition of our past, no flicker of the love I once saw there.

Only cold assessment.

"Welcome, Elara," he said, his voice smooth, carrying across the room.

"Glad you could join our little celebration."

Tiffany smirked beside him, her eyes glittering with malice.

A man, the host for this sick gathering, stepped forward.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice booming, "tonight, we celebrate a new acquisition! And we have a special entertainment."

He gestured towards me.

The murmurs in the room quieted, replaced by an eager, predatory silence.

My stomach tightened.

This was more than just captivity.

This was a performance.