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“Fine.” Wyatt releases a deep breath. “This may be hard for you to hear, but we’ve heard from—”
“No.”
We both jump as Rill pivots to his feet, stalking across the clearing. I scramble back, but he pulls me up by my collar, his ugly, scarred face inches from mine as he hisses, his breath hot on my face.
“You think you can show up here and take over? You don’t get to know everything, you fucker. No, until I know I can trust you, there are gonna be things that only I know.”
I snarl, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck as I grasp at his hands tight on my collar.
Before I can fully react, though, something familiar begins to build inside me—the same energy from when Run challenged me at Cypress House. Spreading from my heart to my limbs and my head, it encompasses me in icy heat.
“Put me down,” I growl, exposing my fangs. The muscles in my arms and shoulders throb, pulsing against the seams of my shirt. “Now.”
Rill’s eyes grow wide, and just like Run, he senses it coming. His hand loosens on my collar, but he doesn’t let go completely.
“You may be king inside that cage of yours,” he hisses, his fangs long and his eyes dark and dilated. “But out here, I’m the king. What I say goes.”
“Rill!” Elizabeth’s crisp voice breaks through the haze. I see her over his shoulder, stalking toward us, her hands on her hips. “What do you think you’re doing?” she grits out angrily. “Put him down!”
He holds perfectly still as if considering his options before he hurriedly drops me, watching as I stumble back onto the log. Wyatt and Stella are still in their seats, their eyes downcast like they don’t know who to root for—traitors.
Rill shakes his arms at his side. “Sorry, love,” he mutters, his eyes trained on me. “But I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”
Elizabeth says something, admonishing him, as I loosen my collar and glare at him. I open my mouth to jab back when it hits me.
Vanilla. Warmth. Home.
She’s here.
My eyes scan the trees, not stopping until I see her stepping out of the darkness.
Even in the firelight, I can see she’s wearing a blue dress, her light hair flowing around her in golden waves. I also see that she’s shaking slightly, her mouth pinched.
“Hetty,” I choke out, staggering toward her. I don’t know what I expect her to do. Smile? Throw herself at me in a hug? Bring me a cup of coffee?
But she doesn’t do any of that; instead, she shakes her head slowly, backing into the dark trees and turning on her heels.
My heart throbs painfully as that same icy heat spreads through my body. She’s leaving me again, I realize. I came all this way, and she’s leaving.
So, this time, I don’t hesitate. In fact, I barely think. I just go after her.
30
A Little Dead
Hetty
Of course, I knew he’d be here. I was warned, after all, and stewed about it as Cleo and I made our way through the darkening forest. But that doesn’t make seeing him any less of a shock.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
He looks sulky and beautiful in the firelight. The flickering shadows lick his scratched face as he watches Rill and Elizabeth argue about something—his eyes sad and his lips pouting. His tight dress shirt is torn and spattered with blood, seemingly from the scratches covering his arms and face. It’s like he ran here through a thicket of firethorn bushes.
Vaguely, I realize there are other people here—Stella, Wyatt, and random alphas—but I don’t see any of them. I only see him, and as the seconds tick by, the shock wears off, revealing something else.
Anger.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve done everything I could to not think about that last night at Sage House, and the things he said to me. I shut down the doom spirals, kept busy, and focused on my ever-changing circumstances. So, I’ve been able to get by without feeling much of anything…
