The thudding impact came again, with a ringing clash of horns hitting metal. Hooves clattered against concrete as the hidden creature gathered itself for another strike.
“Shh, shhh!” Rose hurried over to the door, terrified that the poor shifter would either injure itself or make enough noise that someone would come to investigate. “It’s all right, I’m here to help. I’m going to—ow!”
She snatched her hand back from the door, sucking at her fingertips. The metal was cold, cold enough to burn. As she watched, ice crystals spread over the surface, sharp and bristling.
“Hungry.” The whisper sounded more like wind over a frozen glacier than any human voice. “Hungry.”
“I’ll get you out,” Rose repeated, though she was no longer sure that was at all a good idea. “Just wait.”
The wind-swept voice chuckled and moaned, like the sounds of a distant blizzard. Claws scratched against metal. The cold followed her as she backed away.
The next door was open. The cell beyond was as blank and featureless as an empty meat locker. Rose didn’t think it had been occupied for some time, if it ever had been.
The final door wasn’t a door. Just a solid lump of blackened metal, fused into the wall. The surface was frozen in lumpy ripples, thicker at the bottom, as though at some point the door had been subjected to such intense heat that the metal had started to melt and run.
The mate-call beat through her blood.
A wide observation window was set into the wall next to the not-door. Ice crystals frosted its surface, hiding the room beyond.
She put her hand to the glass. Cold numbed her palm as she wiped frost away.
Another cell. A narrow bunk, made up with a thin gray blanket. A small desk, bare, with a hard, straight-backed chair. In the corner, a toilet and washbasin sat in full view, unscreened from either the rest of the room or the window.
That was it. Nothing else.
Except him.
He was shirtless, doing push-ups on his knuckles with mechanical, rhythmic precision. His bare back gleamed with sweat despite the freezing air. The tattoo twining around his right arm stood out stark against his pale skin, black ink flexing with every motion.
Her numb, blue fingers pressed against the glass. “My mate,” she whispered.
His steady rhythm faltered. He glanced up sharply. His eyes searched across the window, not focusing on her.
One-way glass. He couldn’t see out. Yet his whole cell lay bare to any onlooker. Not a scrap of privacy.
In one smooth motion, he surged to his feet. He took a single step toward the window, then seemed to check himself. His fists clenched at his sides.
“Corbin.” His voice crackled from a speaker grill set under the window. “You shouldn’t have brought her here.”
Who’s Corbin? Rose wondered. One of his captors, or a secret ally? Irrelevant for now—she was painfully aware that she was on borrowed time.
“No one brought me,” she said, hoping that he’d be able to hear her in return. “I’m alone. I’ve come to rescue you.”
His head jerked up, eyes widening in alarm. “No!”
“Listen, we don’t have much time,” Rose said urgently as he backed away from the window. “How can I get you out?”
He’d retreated to the far side of the small cell, as far away as he could get. His upper body was still canted toward her, though, betraying secret yearning.
“You can’t,” he said. “You mustn’t. I’m the Phoenix. This is where I belong.”
The bleak certainty in his voice made her throat constrict with pain. What had they done to him, what lies had they fed him, that he could think that this was how he had to live?
“That’s not true,” she said fiercely. “No matter what your animal, you’re still a person. There’s no justification for treating anyone like this.”
He shook his head. “Shifters have to be contained. Controlled. For the safety of humanity.”
“Is that what they’ve told you? The men in robes, the…wizards?”