"Enough to make me wish I could bleach my own brain," Draxis mutters. "I got almost her entire life shoved into my skull.And Sinalyn’s — her other daughter —, too. That one's… bad. Just bad." His muzzle wrinkles in disgust. "But no. It’s just Galla and her two daughters. No army. No secret coven."
Great. So it’s just us against a psychotic witch, her brainwashed offspring, and a pissed-off god who apparently holds grudges for millennia. No big deal.
This is so fucked up. I never imagined this. I lost so much because of a stupid god’s pride. I wasn’t even born and this bastard already planned my entire demise and the death of the people closest to me. He made me hurt my mate. That last thought makes fury rise in me so high I can feel it cracking my bones.
I bite down on the rage clawing at my insides.
I meet Draxis’ silver gaze head-on, my voice dropping into a lethal snarl.
"How do we get out of here? How do we keep Kass safe? If any of those bitches hurt her, I swear I’ll burn everything to ashes. Everything. The entire fucking world can go straight to hell."
He bares his bloody fangs at me, grim and brutal.
"There’s only one way to keep our mate safe."
I know what he’s going to say before the words even leave his throat.
"Our death."
I grit my teeth and roll my shoulders back, no hesitation inside me.
"So be it," I say, my voice razor-sharp. "If death’s the price — then death it is."
Chapter 14
Kassira
Idon’t even know how I got back to my room yesterday. I think I just ran from Draven’s office. Fled.
I hate feeling like this again. Sad. Powerless. Broken.
The pain never stops — a constant, gnawing pressure that’s always there inside my chest, stealing every breath.
But somehow, I managed to claw myself back enough to think through it. Because feeling sorry for myself won’t save him. Letting myself drown in my own pain won’t save any of us.
We need a solution. Fast.
If that bitch gets her way, Draven will mark her on the full moon — because she’s not his true mate and that’s the only time he could. And the full moon rises in a week. Seven days. Seven days until the end.
It took me six months last time to build up the wall around me high enough that I was able to function through the pain and pull off what I thought was a severing of the bond.
Now I have a week. And I can’t even try cloaking the bond again — it would take more magic than I can scrape together, and I’m running on fumes.
I almost laugh. How I wish my side of the bond was still hidden. Cloaked so deep that none of this could touch me. But wishing’s useless now.
Not only am I drowning in agony again, but now I get the bonus anxiety of knowing the clock is ticking — and if we don’t stop this, the shifter apocalypse is coming.
I swear if this situation wasn’t threatening to destroy all shifters, including me,I’d already be halfway to some beach, drunk off my ass and dancing terribly to some equally terrible music.
Dammit, who am I kidding? I couldn’t leave Draven behind. Not after getting to know him. Not after seeing the real him. That stubborn, silly, maddening man. He showed me a glimpse of a possible future between us so bright that I’d regret it forever if I didn’t fight for it.
He didn’t ask for any of this. Neither did I.
But of course this had to happen to me.
Ever since Dad died in that stupid accident, and Mom wasted away from the grief of losing her mate, my life’s been one long, slow fall downhill.
I was left with a bakery job I never wanted but had to keep — because, well, a girl’s gotta eat.
