Page 73 of The Shadow Sanctum

“What problem would poisoning him solve?”

“They wouldn’t have to know he was murdered. It could look like he got sick, and his immune system wasn’t strong enough to fight it. It happens in the real world all the time. It wouldn’t⁠—”

“The real world?” I bite. “Which fake world are we living in now?”

Sawyer sighs. “I’m not trying to⁠—”

“I’m not poisoning my father,” I say with finality that I know he hears. My jaw feels tight as I speak. “When the time is right, I’ll challenge him. Publicly. When everyone has seen him for who he is and won’t weep for his death. Then… I don’t know what I’ll do then. But I’m not going to kill him in secret like a coward.”

I expect Sawyer to snap back with something, but instead, he chooses silence. I wait anyway, counting the seconds that pass. For a moment, I feel like I’m turning into Sawyer.

“I’m going to stand behind whatever you do,” he says at last. Long fingers slip up my belly. “And I’ll be here to help in any way you need… Maybe I could help turn people or something.”

My heart skips—then stops. When it starts back up, there’s a deep pang in my chest. I bite down on my lip and try not to feel any more emotion. I don’t know how anyone could stand feeling so much in such little time.

Somehow, I’ve gone my entire life believing I’m too cold, and after only two months with Sawyer, I’m a faucet of hormones that won’t turn off. Cortisol. Estrogen. Oxytocin.

Oxytocin. The ‘love’ chemical.

I close my eyes and suck in while trying not to read into my own thoughts. But they’re there, pounding away. They’ve been there for days while I’ve had nothing else to do but lie in bed.

Tell him, my heart begs. But my mind knows better.

Because I remember our first time in the treehouse. I remember him telling me he’s never felt romantic love, that he doesn’t even know what it is.

Over a hundred women were kidnapped, raped, and still fell in love with him. Over a hundred could see what I see.

I am not special. I am not the exception.

This is who Sawyer is. If Zephyr were alive, maybe we wouldn’t be here.

I flinch at the thought. For some reason, I can’t believe it’s true.

“Thank you,” I whisper instead of pouring out everything in my head.

We don’t say anything else after that. We just lie still and listen to each other’s breathing.

Sawyer never gets up to shut off the light. But I find sleep anyway.

CHAPTER 21

SAWYER

Iwake to whispers.

Muffled by the door, but sharp enough that they claw my brain from sleep. My eyes crack open to the dim light spilling from the hallway.

One of the voices lifts just high enough for coherence: “Sweet ellar?”

As I sit up, I squint with my head tilted toward the sound. It’s all nonsense, but the words are spoken with worry that yanks me awake. After a few moments, the sleepy haze clears.

Should we tell her?

I’m careful not to wake Luna as I lean forward. But the whispers abruptly cease. Hurried footsteps carry down the hall like they’re running away from something. Or someone.

A second of stillness follows before the door flies open.

Thorne’s huge frame casts shadows on the floor and blocks the entryway. My back knocks the headboard, and my hand finds Luna’s chest—stupid, he’d never hurt her. I swing a leg off the bed in preparation for a fight I somehow didn’t see coming.