CHAPTER 33

The room was cold. The only light came from a small window high on the wall. Zayne stirred and moaned as he blinked his eyes open. His head throbbed painfully. Every breath burned in his chest. His wrists ached. He looked down to see thick straps tightened over silver-laced shackles binding him to a wooden chair. His ankles were locked in similar cuffs, bolted to the floor. The silver stung, sizzling against his skin. He could feel its poison draining his strength, dulling his senses. He tried to shift, but even the smallest movement made his muscles scream. Then he caught the scent. Burnt herbs. He recognized it immediately—mossroot and silverthorn, both known for suppressing wolf strength. Whatever he was being kept under, it was intentional. It was designed to weaken him completely. Where was he? Zayne looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. He became even more confused. He reached into his subconscious, trying to remember what had happened. The last thing he remembered