“I don’t have Stockholm’s syndrome,” I say with a laugh. “Darius isn’t what he seems. The terrible things he’s done, that he continues to do—I’m not making excuses for him—but I mean, he’s just as caught in the gears of the system as we are. Our culture made him what he is, and he doesn’t know how to be anything else.” Liza scoffs. “He’s an alpha. He can be anything he wants to be, and he decides what we are too. He’s not caught in the gears, Amalea, he’s pulling the levers.” “He wants to change things. He’s tried,” I argue. “Not very fucking hard from what I can see,” she counters. “I don’t know how you can stand to be near him after what he did to you, to all of us.” “I feel alive with him, free, like for the first time in my life I’m choosing my own fate, who I love, rather than being a slave to the mate bond.” Liza slumps against my shoulder and sighs. “Free? None of us are free.” “Does that include Darius?” I ask. She goes quiet, before pushing up off the bed and moving to leav
I want more than anything to tell her the truth, but if she knew, her walk to the gallows wouldn’t be the same. Her actions when they slip the bag over her head wouldn’t be genuine. The way we act when faced with the real end, when we look death in the eye, can’t be faked. This has to look real. She has to believe it's real, and it’s killing me. Worse, I need to make the world believe I care nothing for her. I already slipped up. The council agent clearly suspects I want her as more than payment for my lost men. His comments about James prove that. He tested me, and I failed. I can’t let my emotions get the best of me. I can’t let history repeat itself. I glance over at her. She’s still pretending to sleep to avoid talking to me like she’s done the entire trip so far. Even at the rest stop last night, she wouldn’t say a word to me. I can see the anger in her features from here, but she’s still angelic, stunning. If I were a better man, I’d kill the council agent, and run away with he
Here I am, back where I started. Is there where I belong? Did fate put me here, or did I? It’s funny. We spend our lives fighting to move up in life one step at a time. A better education, a better place in the pack, a better house, a better life—and for what?Staring at the stars through the tiny, barred window of the same cell I sat in years ago now on the eve of my execution, I can’t help but wonder if I ever had a chance. If I ever had a choice, or if my life has been a mere brushstroke in a masterpiece of existence meant for someone else. Has anything I’ve ever done made a difference? Will anyone remember my name? Darius might. James might. Both might not—might move on. Neither is willing to pay the cost, and our love will die as payment for their power.Will my children remember me? Did I give them what they need to make a difference in their existence? Is the masterpiece for them? I hope that it is. I hope that I did, and that hope is an ember warming my heart in this dark hour
I can’t sleep. I’ve been lying here for hours, and all I can do is watch her. She pretended to be asleep when I got back, but I could feel that she was awake. She’s avoiding me, and that hurts, being she thinks she has less than 24 hours to live.I shouldn’t have done it. I knew that when I was doing it. She wanted me to reject her, not mark her. I mean, being inside her did just feel so good I lost myself a bit, but if I’m being honest, it wasn’t exactly an accident. I wanted to mark her, and I wanted to do it before that prick Darius did. He’s going to shit a brick when he sees her neck tomorrow.Still, her emotions—whew. The mate bond is a mind fuck even half complete. I feel like I understand her less now than I did before. I guess you can’t expect someone to be all calm and easy to follow when they think they’re about to die.I wish I could tell her the truth. I almost slipped, almost. I wanted to tell her so badly that when I said I wanted to be with her forever, I meant it, and
I’ve had a lot of time to think—too much maybe. I wish that I had more time for so many things, but thinking isn’t one of them. The more I think about how I got here, about all the things that have been done to me, the angrier I get. Angry that I won’t get to do all the things I wanted in my life. That I won’t ever get to see my children again, to know if they’re alright, to see the people they’ll grow to be, to say goodbye. I’m angry that my own people put me here. That the leaders we chose to protect us built a system that uses us as fuel to create power for a few, for them. That I can’t do anything to change it, make it a better place for my children, for Liza, for everyone I love. That I’m letting them all down.“You didn’t eat your breakfast,” James muses beside me. I don’t need the mate bond to know he’s worried about me and that makes me even angrier. I hate him for putting his mark on me, for forcing fate on me, for being here right now instead of Darius.“I’m ready,” I repea
I can’t even look at her. I know if I do, I won’t be able to go through with this. Even if this isn’t a real execution. Fuck, even if she really does hate me—wants that asshole instead—she shouldn’t have to go through this. I can feel every step she takes. Her anger, confusion, hurt, fear, and now calm. She’s letting go. I just hope that I can bring her back.“The bag,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady as I glance up at her—and that’s when I know. I feel it. A surge of defiance. I should have known her calm was just the eye of the storm. A smile plays across her perfect lips as she jumps off the platform before Jackson can put the bag over her head.She seems to fall in slow motion as I watch my world end. The council member will know. He’ll know she isn’t dead. He’ll know I tried to defy the council’s orders. They’ll kill her anyway, and me too maybe, if they don’t expel the pack from the alliance or both.I hear her bones snap, breaking me from my trance, but not at the end
It’s soft. Where—where am I? I should be dead. I try to open my eyes, but they feel heavy. I feel heavy, sleepy, distant from myself, like—I can’t think straight. My thoughts run from me, confuse me. Why is it soft? I can feel it all around me, against my skin, cradling me. Naked—I’m naked. Why? They hung me.I should be dead. It smells like soil, like earth, like home. Am I dead? Am I home? I have to open my eyes. Open. It takes all my strength, but slowly the world fades into view. Moss. The moss is soft. I’m below a tree, an oak tree.The realization sends a shot of sobering adrenaline through me, and my mind emerges from the haze—it’s not just any oak tree. It’s our oak tree! I’m laying at the tunnel entrance, but how did I get here? Who brought me here? Why am I naked? Why can’t I move?I try to wiggle my fingers, but they won’t budge, and my eyes flutter closed from the effort. My tears fall anyway. Who cares how I got here? I’m alive, and I’m home. I just need to sleep whatever
I can’t sense her anymore, but she can’t be dead. I felt her through the blood bond, followed our love all the way to a huge oak tree in the Dark Wood, but I couldn’t find her, and as dawn broke, I felt her move away before I lost her completely. I don’t understand any of this. Having fae blood explains her ability to shift into other animals, but not why I can’t feel her now. I can smell she was here. There’s an itch in my mind—something I used to know. Something familiar about her abilities. What have I been forced to forget, and what does it have to do with Amalea? It would take a powerful witch to cast an enchantment like this. To erase something from reality? That’s not child’s play. It’s not something that would be done on a whim or could be done by just anyone. It would have a price. Clouds gather overhead, casting a gloom over the forest as it begins to rain. I don’t want to, but I need to leave. I won’t figure out anything just sitting under this tree. I’ve been here for ho