This Coven Won't Break - Isabel Sterling Page 0,86

drags Benton into the cell and hurries out, slamming the door just as Benton makes it to the bars.

“Maybe this time, you’ll manage to kill the witch.” Riley sneers at Benton, already backing away from us, away from the cold. “Unless she kills you first.”

Then they’re gone.

And the temperature continues to drop.

23

BENTON STANDS WITH HIS back against the cell door, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He watches us, his expression streaked through with worry as he shivers uncontrollably. His breaths come out in little white puffs.

“They’re gone, Hannah.” Archer pulls away and bends until our faces are level. “We’re okay.”

I shake my head, magic still rushing out like water through a broken dam. Tears freeze against my cheeks. “I can’t. Not if Mom . . . Not if she—”

“We don’t know it was her. There was no reason for her to be at my house.” He tucks his arms around his chest, careful not to scrape the blisters on the backs of his hands. “Hannah, please. You have to try.”

Cautiously, Benton approaches us. “What happened? What did Riley do to her?”

“Your people murdered more of her family,” Archer snaps at the young Hunter. “We don’t know which ones, but—”

“What are you talking about? No one died.” Benton looks past Archer, and realization softens his features. He steps closer. “Riley lied, Hannah. The house was empty when the team rescued him. The team freed them and came straight home.”

“Riley lied.” I repeat his words, stack them into a wall to close off my power. Mom is alive. She’s fine. She’s okay. I try to believe the words, but the relief is slow to come. My brain hesitant to accept yet another new reality, the grief unwilling to release its grip on my heart.

“Your mom is safe,” Archer says, but his swollen eye and chattering teeth ruin the soothing effect I know he must be going for. He lays assurances at my feet, and piece by piece I come back to myself. The magic fades until his words can no longer be seen in the air as tiny puffs of white in the cold.

“Don’t lock it all away,” Archer warns as he releases me. “Your magic is our best chance at getting out of here.”

“I’ll try,” I promise, and when I’ve removed the last of the cold from the air, we stand frozen in the cell. Two witches face a forsaken Hunter, and none of us seem to know what to do. I rub my arms, trying to get feeling back into my limbs.

Benton turns and leans his forehead against the bars. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he murmurs to himself, but it’s so quiet in the cell that his words are crystal clear. He screams curses into the empty hallway and shakes the door, but it holds tight. He hits the bars again and again with the side of his fist before turning and sliding defeated to the cold floor. “Go ahead.” He wraps his arms around his knees. “Kill me.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Archer says while I stare at the boy who tried to kill me two months ago. He’s broken and bruised, and my mind plays a loop of his father’s fist cracking against his face because he told the older man to stop.

Why did he tell him to stop?

“I don’t understand what changed.” Benton runs a hand through his hair, making it stand on end before it flops back into place. “My parents raised me to hunt witches, but we only killed them because we had no other option. We have a cure now. We’re supposed to save you. We’re supposed to make you human, and we protect humans.” He goes silent and glances up at us. “Well, we had a cure until you two destroyed most of it.”

The reminder that there’s any left turns my stomach, but at least we have time before they can make more. Hopefully enough time for Lexie to translate David’s notes and create an antidote.

Or create a weapon against the Hunters.

But the thought of killing them makes me uneasy, despite everything they’ve done. If someone like Benton wants to save us, as twisted as his version of saved is, can’t we do something similar to the Hunters? Can’t we cure them of their hatred instead of killing them off?

“What do we do now?” I direct my question at Archer, but it’s Benton who says, “I don’t know.” He sounds miserable and lost and alone. I can’t