The Matchmaker
<b>CHAPTER </b><b>121 </b>
The air in the cell corridor clung to her skin like damp cloth–colder than the rest of thepound, thick with the scent of mildew and the faint metallic tang of confinement. Saphira stepped in beside Niks, her boots striking the stone floor with deliberate rhythm, each echo a reminder of the silence pressing in around them. The walls felt too close, as if the corridor itself was holding its breath.
She flexed her fingers once, then stilled them at her sides. <i>Stay </i><i>sharp</i>. <i>Stay </i><i>unreadable</i>.
They passed Ruby’s cell first.
Ruby sat cross–legged on the bed, spine straight, hands resting loosely on her knees. Her smile was too still, too precise–like a deid out on velvet. Her gaze found Saphira instantly,
unblinking, and held it with quiet menace.
Saphira didn’t flinch, but her breath hitched in her chest. <i>She’s </i><i>waiting </i>for <i>me </i><i>to </i>crack. <i>To </i><i>twitch</i>. <i>To </i><i>show </i><i>a </i><i>reaction</i>. Her shoulders rolled back instinctively, chin lifting a fraction. She kept her eyes forward, refusing to meet Ruby’s stare again. <i>Not </i><i>today</i><i>. </i>
The prickle at the base of her neck sharpened as they passed, but she didn’t look back. Niks didn’t nce at Ruby either–his stride never faltered; his focus already locked on the next
cell.
Damon sat inside, elbows braced on his knees, fingersced loosely together. His head tilted slightly, like he was sizing them up for sport. That same smile–amused, unreadable–curved his lips, and Saphira felt her stomach tighten.
<i>Same </i><i>look</i><i>. </i><i>Same </i><i>game</i>. <i>Different </i><i>yer</i>.
Niks stepped forward, his voice clipped and cold. “What do you want?”
Damon didn’t answer. He stretched slowly, arms overhead, joints cracking in the quiet. Then he leaned back against the wall, legs extended, posturezy. “Lovely weather today, isn’t it?” he drawled. “The pack seems lively. I heard the training grounds are busier than ever.”
Saphira’s jaw locked. Her gaze flicked to his fingers–tapping a slow rhythm against his thigh. <i>He’s </i><i>stalling</i><i>. </i><i>Testing </i><i>boundaries</i>. <i>Watching </i>us <i>squirm</i>. Her nails bit into her palms. <i>He </i><i>thinks </i><i>this </i>
is a game.
Niks’s patience snapped. He mmed his palm against the cell door, the sound sharp and jarring. “This isn’t small talk. Speak.”
Damon’s smile widened, slow and deliberate. “How’s Talia? Sam? Asher?” His voice was casual, but the wordsnded like a p. “You haven’t heard from them yet?”
Saphira froze.
Niks did too.
Her heart stuttered, then thudded hard against her ribs. <i>No </i>one <i>outside </i><i>the </i><i>pack </i><i>should </i><i>know</i>.
<i>No </i><i>one</i><i>. </i>
She reached out through the bond, her thoughts sharp and urgent. <i>“</i><i>How </i><i>does </i><i>he </i><i>know </i>it <i>was </i><i>those </i><i>three</i><i>? </i><i>That </i><i>we’re </i><i>waiting to </i><i>hear </i><i>from </i><i>them</i><i>?!</i><i>” </i>
Niks’s reply came fast, clipped with unease. “<i>I </i><i>don’t </i><i>know</i>. <i>But </i><i>I </i><i>don’t </i><i>like </i><i>it</i><i>.</i><i>” </i>
He stepped closer to the bars, his voice low and dangerous. “What do you mean?”
Damon chuckled, the sound low and grating, like gravel dragged across stone. “Maybe you should check in on them.” He turned his back to them, shoulders rxed, head tilted just enough to show he was still listening. “Just a thought.”
He didn’t look back. But theughter didn’t stop.
From the next cell, Ruby’sugh joined his–soft, mocking, a thread of sound that curled around Saphira’s spine like smoke.
Her stomach twisted. She met Niks’s gaze, and in that moment, no words passed between
them. They didn’t need to.
They turned and left the cells, their footsteps faster now, the corridor behind them echoing withughter that didn’t belong–and the weight of a threat neither of them could yet name.
Saphira mmed through the cell doors, the ng of metal echoing behind her like a warning bell. Her boots struck the stone floor with clipped precision, each step a deration of urgency. The corridor’s cold bit at her cheeks, but it was the frost blooming in her chest that made her breath catch. <i>Too </i><i>quiet</i><i>, </i><i>Too </i><i>still</i>. <i>Something’s </i><i>shifted</i>.
Niks was a shadow at her back, his jaw locked, eyes already scanning thepound like he expected it to erupt.
“What do we do?” she asked, her voice low, tight with restraint. Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching for direction.
Niks didn’t miss a beat. “We call a meeting. I want Raven to bring a few of her strongest
witches.”
Saphira nodded sharply, already pivoting. <i>No </i><i>time </i>to <i>unravel </i><i>Damon’s </i>threads. <i>No </i><i>time </i>to <i>bleed </i><i>over </i><i>what’s </i>been lost. <i>Just </i>move<i>. </i>
They sprinted toward the pack house, wind wing at her hair, tugging strands loose from her braid. Her heart thudded against her ribs, not from exertion–but from the weight of what she couldn’t yet name. Niks kept pace beside her, silent, but she could feel the tension radiating off him like heat.
The heavy door creaked open as they reached it, and inside, Jed and Raven were descending the stairs, mid–conversation. Raven’s hand gestured midair, her voice low, but both froze as
Niks’s voice rang out.
“Jed!”
They turned instantly. Raven’s brows drew together, her steps faltering. Jed straightened, his gaze sharpening as itnded on Saphira’s face.
Raven stepped forward, her tone clipped. “What’s wrong?”
Niks didn’t hesitate. “We need an urgent meeting. Can you gather a few of your strongest
witches?”
Raven’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “I’ll go now.”
The air thickened, charged like the moment before a storm breaks. Even the walls seemed to
lean in, listening.
“I’ll call Jasper back from warrior training,” Jed said, already reaching for hism crystal.
Saphira’s fingers flew across her device, her thumb trembling slightly as she typed. “I’ve messaged Finn, Amara, and Anastasia,” she said, breath shallow. “Just finishing a message to
Zafira,”
Raven turned, her cloak ring behind her as she strode off, urgency in every step. Saphira watched her disappear, then turned toward the office, her boots thudding against the wood floors.
Jed’s voice was low and clipped as he spoke into the crystal. “Get back to the pack house.
Now.<i>” </i>
Inside the office, Saphira moved to the table and pressed her palm t against the surface. The
wood was cool beneath her skin, but her thoughts were burning.
She looked up suddenly. “We need to keep Zafira and possibly Jasper calm,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “We can’t let them do anything rash.”
Niks’s brows lifted, then drew together. “Especially Zafira. She and Asher are newly mated. That bond will cloud her judgment.”
Saphira nodded, her throat tightening. “And she already feels like something’s wrong. That’s going to hit hard.”
The door creaked open.
Finn and Amara entered first, their expressions tight with confusion. Amara’s hand found Finn’s arm instinctively, her eyes flicking between Saphira and Niks.
Then came Anastasia and Zafira. Zafira’s gaze swept the room, her shoulders squared, but tension coiled in her stance. <i>She </i><i>knows</i><i>. </i><i>She </i><i>just </i><i>doesn’t </i><i>know </i><i>what</i><i>. </i>
Jasper followed, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were sharp–already calcting.
Finally, Raven returned, three witches trailing behind her. Their robes shimmered faintly, marked with sigils Saphira didn’t recognize. Power pulsed around them, quiet but undeniable.
Saphira straightened, her gaze sweeping the room, her spine rigid with resolve. <i>Whatever </i><i>Damon’s </i><i>done</i><i>, </i><i>whatever </i><i>he’s </i><i>hiding</i><i>–</i><i>this </i><i>is </i><i>where </i><i>it </i><i>begins</i>.
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