Chapter 95: The Hunt for Viktor

The forest had learned to keep Viktor's secrets. Every path split twice. Every scent trail died in water, ash, or blood. Elena moved through the trees with Mara on her left and two Blackwood wolves ghosting behind them, but she was the one holding the lead. The locket warmed whenever Viktor's bloodline magic brushed the air, a pulse beneath her fingers that turned his tricks into breadcrumbs. Damon was not with them. That fact beat against Elena's ribs with every step. He remained in the medical wing, half-conscious, Morwen cutting the poison down with silverleaf, old prayers, and sheer refusal to let an alpha die on her table. The first dose had slowed the black veins, but it had not stopped them. For that, Morwen needed Viktor's blood. "We should have brought more wolves," one of the enforcers whispered. Mara did not look back. "More wolves make more noise." Elena stepped over a root wrapped in silver wire. "And more targets." The locket flared hot. She froze. Ahead, the ground looked ordinary: damp leaves, broken twigs, a thin drift of fog. But under the fog, magic tightened like a snare. Elena crouched and brushed away the leaves with the edge of her knife. A rune burned faintly in the dirt. "Trap," she said. Mara's eyes narrowed. "For wolves?" "For anyone carrying alpha blood." Elena glanced toward the ridge. "He expected Damon to come." "He got you instead." "Good." Mara studied her for a heartbeat, then nodded as if accepting an order she disliked. "Signal?" Elena lifted the locket. "When this turns white, hit the lodge from both sides. Until then, no heroics." "That is usually my line to you." Elena almost smiled. Then she moved. Viktor's lodge crouched in the hollow below, all black timber and shuttered windows. No guards paced outside. That was worse than guards. Elena circled wide, following the locket's heat toward a cellar door half hidden beneath dead vines. It opened before she touched it. Viktor stood at the bottom of the stairs, one hand bandaged from Damon's grip, the other holding a glass vial filled with dark liquid. He looked amused, but the tightness around his mouth said the duel had cost him more than pride. "You came without your dying alpha," he said. "He won," Elena answered. "You ran." "Survival is not shame." "No. Poisoning a duel is." He lifted the vial. "Antidote. One sip and Blackwood lives." Elena did not move. "Set it down." "You know my price." "Your price died in the arena." His gaze dropped to her belly. "The seed has not. You can save Damon with this vial, but that only returns you to the larger problem. The child will still carry the hook. When it blooms, it will not care who won a duel." Elena took one step down. "Then you should want to live long enough to solve it." Viktor smiled. "Threats now?" "Math." She threw the knife. Not at his throat. At the lantern above him. Glass burst. Flame hit the ward circle painted across the cellar floor, and the hidden ink flashed bright enough to blind. Viktor cursed and turned his face. Elena lunged through the light, shoulder slamming into his chest. They hit the floor hard. The vial skittered away. He was stronger than she was, but he expected fear. Elena gave him fury. She drove her elbow into his broken wrist, twisted beneath his guard, and pressed a silver pin into the soft skin below his jaw. "Move," she said, "and I open something important." Viktor went still. Mara's charge exploded through the western wall. The lodge shook. Blackwood wolves poured through smoke and splinters. Viktor's hidden guards broke from their alcoves too late. Mara dropped the first with a silver chain and kicked the second into a ward Elena had already cracked. Elena grabbed the antidote vial and tossed it to the nearest runner. "Medical wing. Now." The wolf vanished up the stairs. Viktor laughed under the pin. "You trust that vial?" "No." Elena cut his palm. His blood welled dark and hot. Morwen had given Elena a crystal ampoule etched with cleansing marks. She filled it, sealed it, and handed it to Mara. "Second dose," Elena said. "In case he lied." Mara's expression softened for a fraction of a second. "Damon will get it." Then she was gone too. Elena stayed crouched over Viktor, the silver pin steady at his throat. "Now we talk about the child." His amusement faded. "You need the Heartstone." "Where?" "Beneath the old Vance estate. In the cave where your mother's blood was first used to bind the spirit's anchor." Her fingers tightened. "My mother's blood." "Preserved vials," Viktor said quickly. "Not your mother alive in chains. I know that lie has been used on you before." The fact that he knew made her want to cut deeper. "The ritual requires a tether," he continued. "My bloodline opens the channel. Your locket anchors it. Damon's alpha blood stabilizes the child. No marriage, no romance, no old-law claim, whatever story you think I wanted to sell in front of your wolves." "You did want to sell it." "I wanted leverage." His eyes met hers. "Now I want not to be the idiot who lets an ancient spirit use your child to open every grave my family failed to close." Elena searched his face. The locket warmed, not in warning, but recognition. He was still dangerous. Still selfish. But this part was true. Her comm crackled. Morwen's voice came through, strained but clear. "The blood is working. Damon is breathing." For one second, Elena closed her eyes. When she opened them, Viktor was watching her with something like respect. "Get up," she said. "Where are we going?" Elena pressed the silver pin harder. "Back to my healer. You are going to explain every word of that ritual while chained to the floor." Viktor's mouth curved. "And if I refuse?" The locket flared in Elena's palm, washing the cellar in white light. "Then I let Morwen translate you piece by piece."