Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
The lodge came into view, dark and quiet, exactly as she expected. She parked and jogged up the stairs, not surprised to find the door unlocked.
The enforcers fanned out around the structure, silent and efficient. Nadia moved inside and flipped on lights as she went. She reached the kitchen and scouted until she spotted a door near the back deck that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years.
She opened it, flipped on the light, and started down the stairs.
Cold air hit her immediately. She stopped for a second, breath fogging, surprised she’d had no idea this space even existed. At the bottom, she turned on more lights and stared.
The room stretched long and wide, packed full of junk. Boxes were stacked in one corner. Old desks sat crooked against a wall. Steel cases lined the far side, dull and scarred. She went to those first. Inside were slabs of slate etched with different designs, small statues, pieces wrapped in cloth she didn’t unwrap yet. She moved on to another bin and found knitted goods, carefully folded. A pink hat sat on top, soft and absurd, and it made her smile.
She actually would create a museum with all of this. They should have one to better know their history.
This was more fun than she’d expected.
She kept going, box after box, until she finally found one full of books. It was about time. She opened the first two and frowned. She couldn’t read a word. The pages were old, leather-bound, scuffed, some of them missing entirely.
“Well,” she muttered, recognizing the script. “This is the old language.”
A spiral notebook caught her eye, half-buried beneath loose papers and folded notes. She lifted it carefully. This one was more modern. Not recent, but not ancient either. Twenty years old, maybe thirty. The cover was bent, the wire along the spine dull with rust. She flipped it open.
Her breath caught.
At the top of the page, written neatly and underlined, were just two words.
Translation Key
“Holy crap,” she whispered.
She leaned closer, her heart starting to race as she scanned the page. One line was written in the ancient language. Beneath it, clean and precise, was the key from the ancient text into English. It appeared to be old English, but she could work with that. The very top had already been translated:
By trial given and challenge borne,
The Alpha stands, the rest are torn.
Not by blood nor oath once sworn,
The pack is kept by strength hard worn.
She let out a short breath and pressed her fingers to the page. “Solomon is going to lose his mind,” she murmured. So much for him being the only wolf in the know. This was excellent.
She flipped forward, scanning the next few pages. The same structure repeated. Ancient text. Then translation. Notes in the margins, tighter handwriting, corrections scratched out and rewritten. Then the key—just how to translate the rest. It appeared as if somebody had started to translate the text and then moved on. But the information was all right there.
It would take some time to translate those several chapters, but now she could actually do it.
Two more notebooks sat beneath the first. She grabbed all three and stood, brushing dust off her jeans. The cold had crept deep into her legs and fingers while she’d been reading. She shifted the notebooks and shoved them into her oversized purse, the weight settling solidly against her hip. The strap went over her shoulder, familiar and grounding.
It was freezing down there, and she needed to move.
She turned toward the stairwell, already replaying the lines in her head, already planning to read for the entire night. If she returned home early enough, Bussy and Margaret wouldn’t even know she’d gone.
She took one step toward the stairs.
“Hi.”
She froze.
Luca stood at the top, blocking the way out. Blood dotted his face and streaked down one arm, already drying dark against his skin. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, and one side of his jaw was swelling fast.
“Holy crap,” she said. “What happened to you?”
“Rough trial,” he growled. His eyes dropped to the purse on her shoulder. “What are you doing down here?”
She frowned. None of this made sense. “What are you doing down here?”
He winced, like the words hurt. “I’m sorry. I knew you were here.”
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Well,” he said slowly, “I saw the SUV outside when I was going by.”
Nadia shook her head. “Are you finished with your trials?”
He picked at a bruise by his ear. “Two more to go.” His green eyes gleamed under the lights. One was puffy and half-closed.
“The trials have been bad?”
“Yes,” he muttered. “Let’s get you out of here. It’s not safe.”
She followed him up the stairs and through the lodge, her fingers tight on the strap of her purse.
Halfway across the room, Luca stopped and turned toward her. “I’m really sorry about this.”