Tangled

270 Lisa: Bracelet

LISAT

I blink rapidly, my mind struggling to process what's happening.

The glint of the bracelet the Grand Sage slapped onto my wrist catches my eye. Could it be some kind of cloaking device? He does love his magitech. It would make sense that it has multiple

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That has to be what it is. These are all people who know me. They know my scent and my face, even if it is haggard after my incarceration. The bracelet must make it so I'm less noticeable somehow. Ryder steps forward, his brow furrowed as he looks at all of us.

He can see me, but it's like he doesn't really notice me.

Worry is etched into every line of his face. "Dr. Blackwell," he says, sounding relieved. "We're having problems with our phones."

"Yes, so I was informed." The Grand Sage looks at all the wolves with interest. "Shall we go inside? I'm going to need everyone's devices in order to check on the situation.

"Of course." Ryder snaps his fingers at the other wolves, who follow behind us without a word. Everyone seems on edge, shoulders tense and eyes wary.

As we step into the farmhouse, the sight before me steals my breath. Injured shifters lie scattered across the floor, their bodies arranged on blankets in a makeshift triage. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood, leaving me nauseated.

Two women I don't recognize flit between the injured, their hands steady as they tend to wounds. Their faces are grim, etched with determination and exhaustion. I'm rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of suffering before me.

Ryder's voice breaks through my shock. "I apologize for the mess, Dr. Blackwell. We're still setting up after our... retreat.

The hesitation in his voice speaks volumes. This wasn't a planned withdrawal; it was a desperate

escape.

The Grand Sage-Dr. Blackwell now, I remind myself-waves off the apology. "No need for that. We're here to help, after all."

Ryder nods, but his eyes narrow slightly. "Speaking of which, how did you get here? Our communications have been down, and we've had scouts watching the roads."

I tense, waiting for our cover to be blown. But the Grand Sage merely clears his throat, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, well, that's a trade secret, I'm afraid. Proprietary technology and all that."

Ryder doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he leads us to a battered kitchen table, pulling out his phone. "Well, whatever your methods, we're glad you're here. This

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270 Lisa: Bracelet

is my phone. Mia, Chloe, hand yours over too."

Chloe, the taller girl with striking green eyes, immediately reaches into her pocket and places her phone on the table. Mia, however, hesitates. Her red hair seems to bristle with suspicion as she eyes the Grand Sage.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Mia demands, her voice sharp with fear and frustration. "We don't even know this guy, and now we're just handing over our only means of

communication?"

Ryder's eyes flash dangerously. "Mia, he growls, his voice low and threatening. "Do as you're

told. Now."

The command in his voice is palpable, and I find myself shrinking back instinctively. Mia's shoulders slump in defeat, and she reluctantly places her phone on the table with the others. The Grand Sage gathers up the devices, his movements calm and assured. "You three will be fine for now," he says, his voice soothing. "I'll look into the problem and see what I can do."

As he speaks, his eyes meet mine for a brief moment. There's a glimmer of something there- reassurance, perhaps, or maybe a warning. I can't quite tell, and it does nothing to settle the unease churning in my gut.

I glance around the room, taking in the tense faces of the wolves. They're injured, cut off from communication, and now relying on the help of a stranger.

A stranger who isn't who he claims to be.

I really hope shit doesn't hit the fan.

As the Grand Sage examines the phones, I drift toward one woman tending to the injured. She looks up as I approach, her eyes tired but kind.

"Can I help?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She nods gratefully, handing me a roll of bandages. "Start with him," she says, gesturing to a young man with a nasty gash on his arm. "Clean the wound, then wrap it tightly."

I kneel beside the injured shifter, my hands shaking slightly as I work.

He hisses in pain as I apply antiseptic, and I murmur an apology. His eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of pain and gratitude. In that moment, I realize it doesn't matter why I'm here or how I got here. What matters is that I'm here now, and I can help.

It's so much better than sitting around mindlessly, not knowing what to do with my life. First as a prisoner, then as an escapee under the Grand Sage's tutelage.

This is the first thing I've actively chosen to do, of my own volition, in so long

As I continue to tend to the wounded, I keep one ear on the conversation at the kitchen table. The Grand Sage is speaking in low tones with Ryder, their words too quiet for me to make out. But from the furrowing of Ryder's brow and the tight set of his jaw, I can tell the news isn't good.

Mia paces nearby, her agitation palpable. At one point, she reaches for her phone, only for her

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hand to be slapped away by Ryder.

"Calm down, Mia. We've worked with Dr. Blackwell before. He's trustworthy."

"Sorry, Delta." She cradles her hand to her chest, stepping away from the desk with an air of chagrin.

Mia's attitude is odd. I mean, I get being wary of strangers, but Dr. Blackwell isn't exactly a stranger to them, is he? Ryder seems to trust him, at least.

And yet, there's something about the way Mia's eyes dart around the room, the tension in her shoulders, that sets off alarm bells in my head. It's like she's waiting for something to happen, something bad. 2 Chloc, meanwhile, stands still as a statue, her eyes fixed on the Grand Sage's hands as he works on their phones. The tension in the room is so thick I could cut it with a knife.

Chloe stands still as a statue, her eyes fixed on the Grand Sage's hands as he works on their phones. The tension in the room is so thick I could cut it with a knife.

It's only then that I see Chloe's not as calm as she's pretending to be. Her fingers are clenched into her palms, tight enough for blood to drip to the ground beneath her. Strange.