Through the fissure, I see her pale face contorted in anguish, white eyes glowing with terrible awareness. She presses closer to the crack, her features shifting between beauty and horror with each flicker of emotion.
Stole him. STOLE.
"Your son?" I ask, my hand instinctively moving to my own belly. "Why would they take a child?"
MINE. Mine. Stolen. Her thoughts dissolve into incoherent muttering before suddenly snapping back. FIND HIM!
"Why me?" I ask. "Why now?"
You hear me. Our magick speaks. Another abrupt shift, her voice suddenly childlike, pleading. Help me. Please.
Something in that phrase "our magick" sends a chill through me. The implication that we're connected, that we're somehow similar...
Her mood shifts again. The air around the crack darkens, crackling with evil energy. Hatred. Pure, ancient, and vicious, pours through the fissure like toxic smoke, coiling around me, seeping into my pores.
I will destroy them all. Vengeance will be MINE.
The words are like barbed hooks digging into my flesh, trying to pull me closer. The queen's face contorts into something inhuman, her beauty transformed by such consuming rage that it makes my blood run cold. Her power surges outward, greedy tendrils of dark energy reaching for me.
"Take me back," I whirl and lean into Hawke’s chest, my breath coming in ragged bursts. "Now!"
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Domina?” Kellan is right beside both of us.
"Someone stole her son. When they locked her up, they took her child," I say, looking up into Hawke's eyes. He's never mentioned a child. None of the stories I've heard about Aena mention a child.
I search Hawke's face for any sign of recognition, but find only shock. His jaw tightens as he processes this revelation. Next to us, Kellan inhales sharply, his usual stoic mask slipping to reveal disbelief.
"You didn't know," I whisper, more statement than question.
Hawke shakes his head. "In all the stories I’ve heard about the queen, never once was there the mention of a child."
"She wants me to find her son."
Hawke’s arms circle me, pulling me tight to his chest. He breathes into my hair and kisses the top of my head. And I hear the smallest whisper— fuck.
CHAPTER 18
The Brownies Know Everything
* * *
Fenrir Thorsson
"You're absolutely sure she's here?" I ask Cormac, keeping my voice low as we approach the back entrance of the restaurant.
"Positive." Cormac taps his phone, showing me a text message with coordinates. "Our contact at the local police department flagged a report about a 'strange creature terrorizing kitchen staff.' GUIDE dispatched a small team less than an hour ago."
"And they mentioned Astrid specifically?" I press, scanning the alleyway with heightened senses. The restaurant backs onto a narrow service road littered with dumpsters and delivery trucks. The night air carries a mixture of scents—garlic, grilled meat, rotting produce—but I’m only looking for her scent.
Where is she?
"Yes, the report mentioned Agent Mathieson leading a team on a low-priority containment." Cormac adjusts his jacket, wincing slightly at the movement. "Your mate's been demoted to training duty after the Missouri incident."
A knot forms in my stomach. Demoted. Because of me. Because she hesitated that night in the cave when our eyes met. I bristle defensively, but I can't deny the guilt that settles like a weight on my shoulders.
"She's paying for my actions," I mutter, jaw clenching. "For letting me go."
