Crowned by Fate
<b>Chapter </b><b>179 </b>
Adrian’s POV
At my mother’s request, Maxwell’s Beta quickly gathered Victor’s personal file for us.
“Victor Reeves, <b>24 </b>years old,” I read aloud, scanning through the documents. “Ile was eligible to be Maxwell’s Beta four years ago <b>but </b>lost thepetition.”
“Says here he had been drinking wolfsbane liquor the night before the Beta selection,” Ryder noted, reading over my shoulder. “Maxwell punished him for that afterward.”
The file continued: He eventually became a regr patrolman in the Stormhowl Pack. This June, he joined the North American Werewolf Congress as an ordinary staff member.
None of this appeared out of the ordinary.
Ryder frowned. “From this information, Victor doesn’t seem to have any connection to <b>us</b>. Why would he want to kill you<b>?</b><b>” </b>
I shook my head, equally confused. “I don’t know.”
Maxwell looked defensive. “When I approved Victor’s transfer to the Congress<b>, </b>I only wanted to expand our influence there. Whatever he’s done has nothing to do with me.”
Leon’s face darkened with anger. “I despise men who take women hostage. He doesn’t deserve to call himself a warrior.”
Just then, my phone vibrated with a text from an unknown number. I opened it to find a photo of Skye.
My blood turned to ice.
She was wearing only an oversized men’s t–shirt, looking exhausted. Her arms and legs were bound with rope, not chains. Despite her condition, her silver hair was matted with blood at the temple, but her forest–green eyes remained spirited, burning with defiant anger.
“Son of a bitch,” I growled, my hands shaking with rage as I passed the phone to Leon. <fn4b28> N?w ?ovel chapt?rs are published on find[?]ovel</fn4b28>
His reaction mirrored mine–pure, unfiltered fury. “If he’s harmed her…”
The phone rang, disying the same unknown number. I answered immediately, putting it on speaker.
“Hello, Adrian.” Victor’s smooth voice filled the room. “I trust you received my little gift?<b>” </b>
“If you touch her-” I began, but he cut me off with augh.
“Toote for that, I’m afraid. She’s quite the fighter. Had to restrain her properly after she tried to escape.”
Leon looked ready to shift right there in the hotel room. I ced a warning hand on his arm.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
<b>10:31 </b>Fri, <b>Oct </b>3 <b>M</b>***
“November 25th. Port Artemis.”
The call disconnected.
Skye’s POV
Nadia once told me that a small frame is not a weakness, not if you know how to move with it. “Let their strength work against them,” she said, twisting her own body like water around a muchrger opponent. I had never been more grateful for those lessons.
The rope burned in my palms, soaked through with wolfsbane, the fibers cutting into skin already raw and blistered. But I held on.
He rammed us against the wall again. The back of my skull bounced off cold concrete, and I felt something sharp snap in my side. Pain tore through me, hot and white. I gritted my teeth and tightened the rope. His fingers dug into my wrists, trying to pry me off, but my grip didn’t loosen. He tried to grab the rope, but I pulled upward, pressing my forearm into the back of his neck, cutting off his air.
He bucked again, mming me against a steel beam. My spine screamed in protest. Something cracked. I might’ve cried out, or maybe the sound never left my throat. My legs, locked tight around his waist, began to tremble. But I didn’t let go.
His movements slowed, hands now iling instead of wing. He dropped to one knee, then the other. His head lolled forward, body shuddering. I held the pressure for another three seconds–Nadia had drilled that into me. Never <b>assume </b>he’s out until the limbs stop
moving.
1
When his arms finally went ck, I let go. He copsed face–first, body twitching once before going still. My fingers refused to uncurl, the rope practically fused to my palms. I staggered to my feet, nearly falling from the pain in my ribs, and stumbled toward the door.
It wasn’t locked.
The air hit me like a p–wet and cold and sharp. I sucked it in like I’d never breathed before. Night had fallen. There were no streetlights, no glow of city behind the trees. Just the deep hum of crickets and the far–off sound of waves crashing against rock. I could smell the ocean.
I ran.
Bare feet hit uneven stone. Sharp edges sliced into the soft skin of my soles. I barely noticed. Pain had be so constant, it was apanion now. The path was narrow, a crude trail through knee–high grass and sharp brambles. Branches tore at my arms. I kept running.
The stars blinked down, cold and uncaring. My breath came ragged. My chest ached where my ribs had cracked. But I didn’t stop. He wasn’t dead. He’d wake up soon. And when he did, he’de after me.
I couldn’t shift. Whatever sedatives he used were still dulling my senses. My body felt human, fragile. My muscles burned with effort. If I shifted, I could outrun him. Fight him. Maybe even win. But now, like this, I was just prey on the run.
The path curved, sloping downhill. Gravel gave way to mud. My foot sank into a puddle. I slipped, skidded forward, catching myself on hands that screamed in pain. I pushed on.
Somewhere behind me<b>, </b>I thought I heard a sound. A rustle. Maybe an animal. Maybe him.
My heart pounded faster.
<b>10:32 </b>Fri, <b>Oct </b>3 M
Then, through the dark, I saw it. A flicker of light.
A single bulb glowed in the distance, barely visible through a cluster of trees. A shack, maybe a cabin. The roof sagged on one side. One window was boarded, the other smeared with grime. But light meant someone was there.
I veered toward it, ignoring the sharp sting in my feet, the way my breath rasped like sandpaper in my lungs. Each step felt like fire. I imagined the little mermaid walking on des with her stolen legs. At least she had love waiting for her.
All I had was the hope that whoever lived there would open the door.