Frodo Peppins studied us for a long moment.
Not with fear.
Not with desperation.
Just quiet curiosity.
Like we were an unexpected interruption to an afternoon he had planned differently.
The chains rattled softly as he adjusted his position.
The movement looked exhausting.
Every breath seemed to cost him something.
Yet somehow he still managed a faint smile.
"Jordan Files."
Jordan stiffened. "You know me?"
"You're difficult not to know." He laughed mirthlessly "You have your mother's eyes. Moira was always a beauty."
Jordan smirked "You know my mother?"
"Of course, dummy " Frodo snorted with exhaustion "Moira and I took History together at grade school, twenty seven years ago. And yes I also knew your father". He made a face "A bougous nauseating seething pride. Ivan Files came from a long line of Alphas. He was my roommate here in the Academy. And yes, I couldn't stand his lordly qualities." He rolled his eyes with effort "I changed rooms the very next semester ".
The tired eyes drifted toward me.
"And Night Carter."
I asked quietly "How do you know my name?"
A corner of his mouth lifted. "I asked for you."
The cellar suddenly felt smaller.
I stepped forward.
Jordan immediately stepped slightly closer.
Protective.
Automatic.
Frodo noticed.
Everything about him suggested exhaustion.
Nothing suggested weakness.
The distinction felt important.
"You saw me in a vision."
It wasn't a question.
I swallowed. "Yes."
"I was hoping you would."
The answer hit me like cold water.
I stared. "What do you mean hoping?"
"Dark Magians see what death touches."
His voice was calm.
Matter-of-fact.
Like discussing weather.
"And lately death has been standing very close to me."
The chains shifted.
Metal scraping stone.
Jordan's eyes narrowed.
"Who did this to you?"
For the first time genuine amusement flickered across Frodo's face.
It transformed him.
Made him look younger somehow.
"Viviette would be horrified by that question."
The words stopped both of us.
"Viviette?" I repeated.
"Professor Tom?" Jordan was incredulous.
"Yes." Frodo smiled.
"No."
"Yes."
"Professor Tom chained you in a cellar." I folded my hands across my chest.
"Technically."
"Technically?"
Frodo nodded.
"I asked her to."
Silence.
Jordan looked at me.
I looked at Jordan.
Jordan looked back at Frodo.
"Respectfully," Jordan said, "that sounds insane."
"Most love stories do."
Frodo leaned his head back against the stone.
His skin looked pale beneath the lantern light.
Not sick.
Drained.
Like something essential had been slowly leaking out of him for years.
"Wolves aren't meant to be separated from moonlight for long."
Jordan's expression changed.
Immediately.
Because he understood.
I didn't.
Frodo noticed.
"The moon feeds us."
His voice was growing weaker.
"Not literally. Not the way food does."
"The way roots need soil."
Jordan's jaw tightened.
Frodo nodded slightly.
"You know this."
"I do."
"A wolf can survive months underground."
His fingers brushed one of the chains.
"Years if he's strong."
"Longer if he's Alpha blood."
His smile turned faint.
"But eventually the wolf begins to fade."
The words settled heavily in the room.
"You've been down here for years?" I asked.
"Many."
My stomach twisted.
"Why?"
Frodo looked genuinely confused by the question.
"Viviette."
As though that explained everything.
As though it should.
And somehow the look on his face made it almost make sense.
Frodo's eyes suddenly landed on Jordan.
Then shifted to me.
Then back again.
A knowing smile touched his face.
Small.
Tired.
Dangerous.
"Interesting."
Jordan immediately said "That word never leads anywhere good."
Frodo ignored him.
His gaze remained fixed on me.
"She knows?"
My pulse stumbled.
Jordan went completely still.
Frodo laughed softly.
The sound turned into a cough.
"Apparently not."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded.
His eyes softened.
"You carry his scent."
I froze.
Jordan exhaled carelessly. I felt like squeezing the air right out of his lungs.
Frodo smiled again.
"Wolf marks are difficult to miss when you've lived as one for centuries."
The cellar became catastrophically silent.
I wanted to disappear.
Jordan looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Which was irritating because I was currently having a crisis.
Frodo watched us.
Then his smile faded.
Slowly.
Thoughtfully.
"You should be careful."
That finally wiped the amusement from Jordan's face.
"Why?"
Frodo looked at the chains.
At the darkness.
At the years buried beneath a house.
Then back at us.
"Heavens" He exclaimed tiredly "You remind me of us ".
I stiffened. Jordan froze. But Frodo continued :
"When people are terrified of love..."
His voice was almost a whisper.
"They usually invent stories to justify their fear."