Chapter 24: The Kitty Has Claws

The North Ridge was silent.

It shouldn’t have been. According to the scout, a massive Black Lion was rampaging here, challenging Kael’s authority and threatening to steal his mate. There should have been roaring. There should have been the smell of fresh aggression.

Instead, there was nothing but a swarm of flies buzzing around a lump on the ground.

Kael, in his massive tiger form, skidded to a halt, his claws tearing deep gouges into the earth. His chest heaved, white fur bristling with anticipation of violence.

He approached the “Lion.”

It wasn’t a lion.

It was a rotting piece of black bear fur, draped over a log, smeared with fermented lion dung and…

Sniff.

…Fox musk?

Kael shifted. Bones cracked and reshaped until he stood there in his human form, naked and trembling with rage. He kicked the log. It shattered into splinters.

“A trick,” Kael whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow.

He looked down at the bear fur. It was a scent-bomb. Crude, disgusting, but effective. It had drawn him three miles away from the cabin.

“Ren,” he gasped.

The blood drained from his face. The connection—the golden thread of the Mate Bond that usually hummed in the back of his mind—felt… muffled. Distant. Like she was underwater.

“NO!”

Kael didn’t bother to shift back. He ran.

He tore through the jungle, ignoring the thorns that whipped his skin, ignoring the roots that tried to trip him. He moved faster than he had ever moved in his life, fueled by a cocktail of adrenaline and terror.

If they touched her… if they hurt her…

He would skin every living thing in this forest.

The Cabin

Thirty minutes later, Kael burst into the clearing.

“REN!” he roared, his voice cracking.

Silence answered him.

The cabin stood dark and quiet. The fire under the pickle pot had burned down to embers. The jars of bamboo were stacked neatly on the porch, untouched.

But the ground… the ground told a story.

Wolf bodies were scattered everywhere. Vorn was face-down in the trench. Bark was curled up by the fire pit. They weren’t dead—Kael could hear their snoring—but they were out cold.

And the smell.

Kael’s nose twitched. The air was thick with the cloying, sweet scent of Viper’s Dream pollen. And underneath that… the cold, wet stench of Snake.

Kael walked to the center of the clearing. He saw the scuff marks in the dirt where Ren had made her stand. He saw the boot prints—her small ones, digging in deep as she fought.

He saw the spot where she had fallen.

There was no blood. But there was her scent. Her sweat. And the overwhelming stink of Syris.

Kael fell to his knees in the dirt. He let out a sound that wasn’t a roar. It was a wail. A raw, broken sound of a beast who had lost its heart.

“SYRIS!” Kael screamed at the sky.

The sound woke Bark.

The Wolf Leader groaned, lifting his head from the dirt. He blinked bleary eyes, drool hanging from his jowls.

“Alpha…?” Bark slurred. “Pretty clouds…”

Kael was on him in a second. He grabbed Bark by the scruff of his neck and hauled the wolf into the air, shaking him violently.

“WHERE IS SHE?” Kael snarled, shaking the wolf so hard Bark’s teeth clattered. “WHERE IS MY MATE?”

“Snake…” Bark whimpered, his eyes rolling. “Cold man… took her. Fog… too strong…”

“Did she fight?” Kael demanded, his golden eyes burning with madness. “Did she scream?”

“She… hit him,” Bark mumbled, trying to focus. “With the iron rock. But he… he caught her. Took the rock too.”

Kael dropped Bark.

He stood up, his breathing ragged. His chest felt like it was being ripped open. His mate was gone. Taken by the Cold King. Taken to the Swamp.

Kael looked South.

Most Tigers feared the swamp. The water was deep, the mud sucked you down, and the cold leeched the strength from their muscles. A Tiger in the water was slow. A Tiger in the water was vulnerable.

Kael didn’t care.

He walked to the cabin porch and grabbed his heavy ironwood spear. He grabbed a coil of vine rope. He grabbed a flint stone.

“Vorn!” Kael kicked the sleeping one-eyed wolf awake.

Vorn yelped, scrambling up. “Alpha! I—”

“Shut up,” Kael said, his voice deadly calm. It was scarier than the screaming. “Gather the pack. The awake ones. The sleeping ones. All of them.”

“We chase?” Vorn asked, tail tucked.

“No,” Kael said. He looked at the fire pit. “You guard the house. If I come back and a single jar of pickles is broken… I kill you.”

“Where do you go, Alpha?”

Kael turned to the South. The muscles in his back rippled as he gripped the spear.

“I am going to Skin a Snake.”

He didn’t shift into a tiger. He stayed in human form. A tiger was too big for the swamp boat. A man… a man could steal a boat. A man could sneak into a palace.

And a man could burn it down from the inside.

He touched the spot on his neck where Ren had bitten him just last night. The mark still throbbed.

“Hold on, Little Chef,” Kael whispered to the wind. “I am coming. And I am bringing hell with me.”

Meanwhile, The Onyx Palace

Ren sneezed.

“Someone is talking about me,” she sniffed.

She was currently trapped under the weight of a sleeping Python King in the middle of a frozen stone nest. Syris was heavy, cold, and apparently a very clingy sleeper.

She tried to move her arm.

Clang.

Her hand hit something hard next to the furs.

She froze. She felt around in the darkness. Cold metal. A handle.

Her frying pan.

Syris had brought it. He hadn’t left it in the dirt. He had actually carried her and her cookware all the way to the bedroom.

“Okay,” Ren whispered, gripping the handle. “That’s weirdly considerate for a kidnapper.”

She looked at the sleeping Snake King. His pale face was relaxed, his breathing slow. He looked almost innocent.

“Don’t fall for it, Ren,” she scolded herself. “He thinks you’re a toaster.”

She wiggled, trying to slide out from his grip.

Syris mumbled something in his sleep. His brow furrowed. He tightened his hold, his leg clamping down harder on hers.

“Cold…” Syris whined softly. “Don’t go… warm…”

Ren sighed. She was stuck.

But she had her pan. And she had her wits. And somewhere out there, she knew a very angry white tiger was probably tearing down the forest to get to her.

” Hurry up, Mittens,” Ren whispered into the dark. “Before I freeze to death. Or worse… before I have to cook breakfast for a reptile dysfunction support group.”

[System Notification: Kael has entered ’Berserker Mode’.][Status: He is currently punching a crocodile in the face.]

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