Chapter 47

• Damon's POV
• "The spell will keep her mates from feeling her," the witch said, her hands moving over the steaming cauldron. The room smelled of herbs and something acrid, like burnt hair. I stood at the edge of the table, arms crossed, watching her as she worked. My mother leaned over the table, watching her like some damn shadow.
• "No tugs of the bond, no sense of where she is. For now, she's invisible to all of them," the witch added. "What her mates feel is equal to a painful death. Their wolves are weak, mad. They’re irrational, merciless, no less monsters. I suppose you've heard about what's happening in the north?" She raised a brow, and my mother stepped closer.