Her legs worked now. The pins-and-needles sensation had faded sometime between the medical bay and wherever they’d been dragged. She could stand. Could walk, if the ankle shackles allowed it.
Not that it mattered.
Two guards flanked the arched doorway—wolfmen, upright on their hind legs, sleek and well-groomed in a way that suggested discipline. Military precision. They wore nothing but dark wristbands with glowing blue gems embedded in the center, the same tear-shaped stones that had flashed through the forest before everything went dark.
Their ears tracked every sound. Their eyes—one pair amber, one pair a pale silver—remained fixed on the prisoners with predatory stillness.
Elsa forced herself to breathe. To think past the fear that wanted to swallow her whole.
Four prisoners. Two guards. One door.
The odds were laughable.
Heavy footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the archway. The guards straightened, ears pinning back in a gesture that looked like respect. Or fear.
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Nearly black fur caught what little light filtered through the high windows. Streaks of deep gray rippled across broad shoulders and a chest built for violence. Green eyes swept over them—the same cold gaze from earlier. These were cutting. Assessing. The sort of gaze that judged and discarded without hesitation.
He stopped in front of them, massive frame towering even over Rowan’s considerable height. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute authority.
“I am Xar.” The words rumbled through the chamber like distant thunder. “One of the Lux Knight Captains under Prince Ryxin. I’m tasked with keeping you in line until you are presented to the Alpha King.”
A pause. His green eyes lingered on Mia, who shook like a leaf in a storm, then moved to Elsa with something that might have been curiosity.
“Stay here,” Xar commanded. “Do not test my patience. I will see if the Prince is ready to present you to the Alpha King.”
He turned on his heel, movements precise despite his bulk. The guards remained at their posts, sentinel-still, as Xar disappeared through the archway.
The moment his footsteps faded, Rowan shifted beside her. The chains clinked softly. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Four of us. Two guards.”
Milo leaned forward slightly, the chain between his wrists pulling taut. “We could take them. Rush them when they’re not paying attention. Use the chains—choke them, bring them down with our weight.”
Elsa’s jaw tightened. She turned her head just enough to catch Rowan’s profile. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s our only chance,” Rowan hissed back.
“Our ankles are bound.” Elsa kept her voice low, controlled, even as frustration burned hot in her chest. “How are we supposed to rush them when we can barely shuffle?”
Rowan’s lips parted, but before he could respond, a sob choked out from Mia’s throat. Her shoulders hunched, chains rattling as her whole body shook. “We’re doomed.” The words came out broken, barely intelligible through her tears. “We’re all going to die. Like the others. This is it. These are our final moments.”
Milo glanced away, his expression twisting. His hands clenched around the chain, knuckles going white, but he said nothing.
Rowan exhaled sharply. He leaned toward Mia, voice dropping to something almost gentle. “Stop it. We don’t have to die here. Not if we fight back.”
“Be serious.” Elsa’s words came out sharper than she’d intended. The chain pulled taut as she turned toward Rowan, forcing eye contact. “Even if we could take them—and that’s amassive if—what’s your plan after that? You’re basically naked on a winter planet. You think you’ll just waltz out into the snow and make it back to the crash site?”
Rowan’s mouth opened.
“You’d freeze to death before you got close.” Elsa didn’t let him interrupt. “And that’s assuming they don’t hear you coming. Or smell you. Their senses are probably sharper than any Earth canine.” She paused. “Do you want to fight off a whole pack of them next?”
The room fell silent except for the faint hum of energy—some kind of power source running through the walls—and Mia’s quiet, hiccupping sobs.
Milo rubbed his shackled hands against his face, sighing deeply. The sound carried the weight of acceptance. Defeat.
Rowan clenched his jaw, his defiance dimming but not quite extinguished. His gaze shifted to the high window set in the far wall—small, frosted, barely large enough to crawl through even if they could reach it.
Elsa followed his line of sight.