“Did you?” I keep my tone neutral, curious. I’ve been wondering if maybe there was something else Deidre had over her, some other reason she came here so easily.
Mona’s shoulders slump. “I knew there was a possibility she was lying.”
“And yet, you came anyway.”
“Yet I came anyway.” She lifts her chin slightly. “Whether she was telling the truth or not... if there was even the smallest chance I could find the shifters, free them—I had to try.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Deidre is an extremely powerful witch, and regardless of her intentions—look around you. The shifters aren’t here.”
“Yeah, but that’s only because—”
“No. You did that. They’re not here because you’re here, and you exchanged yourself for their freedom. I wish it hadn’t happened that way. I thought I’d be able to get you before they arrived. That was stupid of me.” I curse inward again, heat rising in my chest. Her blood is on my hands—literally. Mona is trapped in this hellhole because of me. Just like everyone else I’ve ever cared about, I’m raining danger on my loved ones. My mother, my father. Now my Moon Goddess blessed mate. I want to tear my own throat out for being so careless.
Keeping her close is a death sentence. When we get out of here, I’ll have to walk away from her for good. My alpha thrashes inside me at the thought, but I force the feelings away.
Mona, like the sweet, kind-hearted mate she is, tries to relieve me of the blame. “No, no, it wasn’t—”
“It was. You were so fucking brave. I’m proud of you, Mona. A little furious, too. But proud.”
Mona blushes and sinks back against the wall. Then surprises me by asking, “Will you tell me about your mom? You mentioned her once...”
My face softens, and Mona lights up in delight. Apparently, knowing I’m a mama’s boy makes her happy. And though I should be putting more distance between us, I tell her about my mother. Mona is surprised to learn she’s old friends with Kendrick. I describe her little cabin in the woods, the garden she tends, the fireplace that never goes out, and how she lives a simple, quiet life. But I deftly avoid explaining why she lives in isolation.
“And your father?” she asks innocently, though the words strike a dissonant chord.
My smile falls away. “He’s dead,” I say simply.
She waits for me to elaborate, but I don’t, and she doesn’t push. But Mona pulls away slightly, making me think I fucked up by not sharing more.
Sighing, I tell her, “My mother’s coven killed him when I was a boy. It was my fault.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your—”
“It was. My mother set a perimeter ward around our home—she was powerful then, maybe more than Deidre. Inside her boundaries, I could practice magic safely. But I was half-shifter, too. An ancient falcon, like my father.”
She stays silent, not daring to interrupt. I wish she would. The story is fragile, and it might break if she speaks too suddenly. I want it to break.
Eventually, I continue, “I left the boundary one day. It was easy. And I was known in my father’s clan, and my mother’s coven as a shifter. The witches had strict rules against my parent’s union, but as long as the coven thought I’d only inherited shifter abilities, the coven stopped threatening my mother. Witches don’t like to share their power. They believe the more witches there are, the more diluted their power.”
“Is that true?”
“Not at all. And… yes. It’s hard to explain. Having power doesn’t take away from another witch. But it tips the scales.”
She tilts her head in understanding. The room is starting to feel small. Stuffy. Mona’s scent seems stronger, somehow. Must be the ward locking us in, so I finish the story.
“After I got away with leaving her perimeter that first time, I started sneaking out regularly. Got careless. Even though every single day before I left the house to play, my mother reminded me to hide my witch nature, to not use magic outside her boundary. I think I heard it so many times it became background noise.”
“I can certainly relate to that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Sure. Try having Andrea as a bodyguard. Her daily motivational speeches in the gym, lecturing me about proper form and vigilance—after a while, my brain just checks out while I think about what I want to eat for lunch.”
I chuckle, and Mona blushes. She likes when I laugh, when I let loose. I wish I could do that for her more often.
“Anyway, I started practicing my magic while I was flying. It’s not an easy thing to do, and once I figured out how, I thought I was amazing. All powerful. I got great at it. I’ve never met another shifter-witch child. Obviously, it’s possible, and I think it’s more circumstantial than anything why there aren’t more of us. But I was definitely an anomaly. And my mother’s coven didn’t like that. One day, someone saw me practicing magic. And then…”
My expression darkens, shoulders sagging, bearing the weight of my life’s story. Grief never leaves you, but it hits you like that. Harder in some moments, like it was lurking beneath the surface, just waiting to be summoned. Rising up without warning, threatening to pull you under. My fingers twist together, and I pull at the joints until they crack, distracting myself.
