Cass’s POV

"Cass!"

I bolt upright, a hand pressed to my mouth. Blood stains my palm. I didn't bite my tongue off, but the pain is sharp and persistent.

Colt pulls away, his face etched with terror as he pins me down. "What happened?! Why are you bleeding?!"

"Ezra," I gasp, my speech slurred. "It was him. In the dream. It... it wasn't just a dream, Colt. It was real."

He stares at me, his skepticism fading as he sees the small, unhealing pinprick on my finger—the exact spot where Ezra’s needle struck me. He remains quiet for a long time, the gears in his mind turning. "I wanted to dismiss it," he mutters finally, checking the clock. "Five a.m. Once the house wakes, we tell them everything."

By the time we reach Warrick’s office, my tongue has mostly stopped bleeding. We relay everything to Warrick, Bryn, Miles, and Dash, but they are as clueless as we are.

"Poppy, bring Lotus," Warrick commands.

Lotus enters, looking apprehensive. When we explain the phenomenon, she pales. "Witches. I told you they were real."

"What do we do?" Warrick demands.

"We find a Light Witch," Lotus says without hesitation. "They deal in enchantment and hexes—the polar opposite of what Ezra is using. I know of one, but it’s a two-hour trip to Ellsworth."

Ellsworth is a charming, colonial-style town that feels worlds away from the violence of the pack. Under Lotus’s guidance, we navigate the quiet streets until we reach a shop near the lake.

Honora, the witch, is an older woman with sharp, observant eyes. She studies us intently, her gaze lingering on me. "You look just like your mother," she says, her voice softening. "A gentle lady, but with a will of iron."

She senses the dark tether on me immediately. "You are dealing with a dark witch, child. Ezra is using a link—a lingering connection from your former mate bond—to invade your dreams. He’s tethering himself to your psyche."

She hands me a golden amulet with a green center. "Wear this when you sleep. It will break the enchantment and restore your freedom of movement." She then hands me a blue flask. "This potion will sever the tether completely, but it’s bitter. Use it only when you’re ready to end the link."

Before we leave, she catches my eye. "Your power... it’s curious. I may not be able to undo your current affliction, but I can help you learn to control it."

"Not now," Lotus intervenes quickly. "Let’s deal with the threat first."

Back at the pack house, I prepare for the final confrontation. I refuse to let anyone watch me sleep except for Colt.

In the room, Colt watches me with profound anxiety as I fasten the amulet around my neck. "Ready?"

"Ready," I whisper.

I pull him onto the bed, curling into his warmth. I can hear his steady, rhythmic breathing as I drift off.

When the white room manifests, it’s exactly as I left it. Ezra sits on the sofa, knife in hand, looking bored. He stares at me with that sickening, familiar smirk. "You kept me waiting."

"I wasn't exactly looking forward to it."

"Yet, here you are."

He kneels, placing the knife on the floor. I consider lunging for it, but I need information. "Why this? Why not just attack us in the real world?"

"I'm an impatient man, Cassiopeia," he says, his voice dripping with malice. "Waiting for your pack to attack the River Packs takes too long. If I can ruin you here, I will."

He crawls on top of me, his lips grazing my neck. I hate that his skin feels like Colt’s. I hate that his eyes share the same color.

"Are Kacey and your mother still alive?" I ask, distracting him.

"Why do you care?" He kisses my stomach, his focus drifting. "But yes."

"Why did you kill Lauren?"

"It wasn't planned," he sneers. "But I’d do it all over again, knowing how much pain it brought you."

That’s it. The fury is cold, calculated.

"I’m going to kill you," I whisper.

He laughs, eyes darkening. "And how are you planning to do that when you can't even lift a finger?"

"Can't I?"

I see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Before he can react, I bring my knee up with all my strength, slamming it into his groin. He roars, rolling off me.

I scramble for the knife on the floor. He lunges, dragging himself toward me, but I elbow him in the face and seize the blade. I pivot and plunge it into his side, right where his waist meets his hip.

He screams, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. But before I can finish him, the air in the room ripples.

A woman appears—black hair, black eyes, small and human-looking. She stares at me, her face contorting with rage.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" she shrieks.