Chapter 6: Things fall Apart

Eamon

I marched out of the dungeon with tension coiled around my shoulders. The girl irritates me. She somehow always managed to get under my skin, and I lose my cool.

Why!

Punching the air, I take deep breathes, trying to calm my nerves.

I shouldn’t have done that. I have no right to call her names. It’s not my place. But her words dig into me like she’s disappointed in me—in the man I’ve become.

Who is she to judge? Who is Hannah to tell me how I should grow? What does she know about the hell I’ve been through just to stand here?

I try to shake off the guilt, but her scream still echoes in my head. It’s not the scream of someone being whipped or tortured. This one is raw, broken like it’s torn straight from her soul.

My steps falter as the realization crashes down on me—I’ve done this. I’ve broken Hannah Welsh.

I turn back toward the prison, ready to apologize, but a maid intercepts me. She bows, excitement lighting her eyes.

“Prince Eamon, your fiancée, Lady Vivian, is awake and asking for you.”

Her words hit me like a cold slap. Vivian. My mate. My chosen Luna. How could I even think of apologizing to the woman who put Vivian in a week-long coma out of jealousy?

I reel from my thoughts. Have I been too close to Hannah? Have I lost my senses? Or has she charmed me somehow?

“Where is she? Is she all right? Does she need anything?” I demand, already moving toward the pack hospital to the south.

“She is still at the hospital, my prince. Yes, she is right. No, she only asked to see you,” the maid says, struggling to keep up with my pace.

“Thank you,” I say, offering her a fleeting smile before pushing open the hospital room door. My heart tightens at the sight of Vivian. She’s pale, too fragile, and I can’t stop the surge of anger. I wish I could make Hannah suffer twice as much as Vivian has.

Vivian has been my light in my darkest moments. She was there when I went into exile, accused of a crime I wasn’t even sure I committed. She fought off rogues to save me, nursed me back from the brink of death, and never judged me, even after I told her my darkest secret.

And now, because of me, she lies here, broken.

I vowed to protect and love her, and I’ve already failed the first. I have to make this right. I must find out who gave Hannah the poison.

Hannah… She never seemed capable of such evil. But what do I know? Friends can betray you in an instant, leaving you holding a dead girl covered in her blood.

“You’re here. I’ve been asking for you,” Vivian’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I’m at her side in an instant, holding her hand. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Should I call the doctor?” I ask, helping her sit up.

“I’m fine. What happened? One moment I was eating fruit, and the next, I woke up here. I asked the nurses, but no one told me anything.”

Guilt crushes me. I avoid her gaze and squeeze her hand. “I’m so, so sorry, Vivian. This is all my fault. Everything. But I promise I’m doing everything I can to fix it.”

“What do you mean, your fault?”

“You were poisoned. By my rejected mate.”

Her face turns as pale as her gown. I try to soothe her. “She was trying to poison me, but you ate the fruit meant for me.”

“But you gave me the fruit,” she whispers, pulling her hand from mine and clutching it to her chest.

The pain of her withdrawal stabs me, but I hold her other hand tightly. “I didn’t know. I swear. Please, forgive me. I’ll do anything to make this right.”

“I don’t understand… I need time,” she murmurs.

“Take all the time you need,” I assure her. “But I promise I’ll find out who’s behind this. Hannah isn’t working alone.”

“What do you mean? I thought she acted out of jealousy.”

“She did. But the poison is from the witches’ clan. There’s someone else pulling the strings.”

“Oh… So what happens to her? Will she go unpunished after what she’s done to me?”

“No, my love. She’ll be punished severely. If we don’t find the mastermind by tomorrow, she’ll face the witches’ trial law.”

“What does that mean?”

“She’ll die by hanging.”

Vivian gasps, but the sound is drowned out by the shrill cry of an alarm.

“What’s that, Eamon? What’s going on?” Her terrified voice roots me in place.

“It’s just the alarm, baby. Don’t panic,” I say, trying to calm her. “I need to check it out.”

“Eamon, please don’t leave me. I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone,” she pleads, clutching onto my arms.

It takes ten agonizing minutes to calm her down with the help of the nurses. Only then do I head toward the source of the alarm, my mind racing.

I grab a foot soldier by the arm and demand a full report. He stammers, clearly shaken by my questioning, and manages to give me a broken, incomplete account.

His words are jumbled and lack detail, but one piece of news cuts through the confusion like a blade. “The prisoner has escaped.”

The words hit me hard, and without hesitation, I took off at a full sprint. I race toward the gates, praying Hannah isn’t foolish enough to cross them. Those gates are more than a boundary—they’re a declaration. Anyone who crosses them is marked as a rogue.

I arrive just in time to see an archer draw his bow.

“Drop your weapons! I said, drop your weapons!” I shout, my voice echoing through the chaos.

But it’s too late. The arrow whistles through the air, almost as if it has a mind of its own. I watch, heart pounding, as it strikes its mark—a woman I later learn is called Maya Green.

Rage ignites in me, and I whirl on the archer. My fist connects with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. “I gave you an order! How dare you disobey me!”

The soldier blinks up at me, dazed and confused. “Sir? I… I don’t understand…”

A cold dread twists in my stomach. I recognize that look, that disoriented haze. It’s the same feeling I had when I nearly turned my blade on her. Someone is controlling him.

This is no longer just about Hannah. Whoever is behind this is powerful—powerful enough to manipulate my soldiers.

A wave of unease washes over me. Controlling a frightened girl is one thing, but controlling a trained soldier? That takes someone of immense power—someone of high standing within the pack.

Hannah’s cries break through my spiraling thoughts, pulling me back to the present. My wolf stirs, restless and desperate to go to her. Against my better judgment, I approach.

Her voice cuts through the tension, soft but firm, and for the first time, she calls me by my name instead of my title. “You were right, Eamon.”

I stop in my tracks, tilting my head as I study her. She’s willing to speak to me. Why? Does she want asylum? Does she want to lash out? Whatever her reason, I’m willing to listen.

“What am I right about, Hannah?” I ask, my voice softer than I expected.

Her sad smile pierces me, tugging at something deep in my chest.

Have I caused that?

A memory flashes in my mind—a younger Hannah, carefree and full of life, telling me how much she loved me. That girl is gone, replaced by this broken, desolate woman standing before me.

“Everything,” she says, walking backward into the forest. Uncaring of the orders from my soldiers.

Her answer shakes me to my core, and guilt washes over me, holding me in place.

I watch her back away until she is slowly swallowed up by the branches. Dragging a hand down my face, my voice barely a whisper. “What have I done?”

I’ve done it now. I’ve broken Hannah Welsh.