Page 90 of Unravel Me

"There are new infection pockets in the western sector. A lot of trees are already showing signs of disease and decline. We'll have to remove quite a few of them to keep it from spreading, and even replanting afterward is going to be difficult."

Renato’s interlocutor sighs sympathetically.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Climate change is affecting even the forests around here."

"Yeah. We had several years of drought, followed by two years of heavy rainfall from the remnants of Atlantic hurricanes. Trees that lost part of their root systems haven't been able to recover fast enough, and that's when honey fungus root rot moves in."

"Do you have any kind of plan?"

Renato lets out a bitter scoff.

"Has anyone ever truly beaten something like this? Once the trees are weakened, there aren't many ways to save them. We can cut down the infected ones before the fungal network spreads any farther, we can avoid dense replanting and thin out the stands, and sometimes we even remove perfectly healthy trees surrounding an infection site, hoping it'll stop the disease from advancing, but even that doesn't always work. It's a constant war against an enemy that never disappears."

Then I hear Silvio's voice joining the conversation. "The eastern sector is already showing the first signs as well. The trees are suffering, I can feel it, and before long the forest over there will start dying too."

There's genuine sorrow in their voices, real concern rather than simple business worries, so maybe Davos really was telling the truth when he said Renato was the forest's protector.

Unfortunately, even someone like him seems to be losing against the larger forces reshaping the local climate.

I hesitate, wondering if this is the right moment to go downstairs, but in the end I decide not to intrude on their conversation.

Besides, I still don't know whether Renato was the one who spent my heat with me in the forest?

Am I supposed to look him in the eye and ask,

What the hell is going on here? Did you happen to fuck my ass for three days straight?!

That would be painfully awkward if it really were him.

I'm not attracted to him in any way, yet he clearly possesses the same glowing form I saw in the forest, and I still have no idea what any of this is supposed to mean.

I turn around and head back to my room. Even after sleeping for so many hours, exhaustion is still weighing heavily on me, so I settle into my nest as fatigue rolls over me once again, hoping that by morning I'll finally have enough strength to get up at a decent hour and make it downstairs for breakfast.

CHAPTER 17: JARED

3 years ago

I'm at one of those events I hate most, because people from the Ring always show up, and every now and then I catch their amused looks lingering on me.

I'm sitting there in a semi-sheer mint-green outfit embroidered with delicate flowering vines that weave across the fabric in an intricate pattern. My hair is pulled into a sleek, high bun because, as the husband of an aspiring politician, I always have to look posh.

For the past three years, Mark has worked relentlessly to insert himself into every influential circle, building connections and friendships with anyone who might help his career. But there's still one thing he's missing.

At one of the neighboring tables sits Tim Kellan with his charming husband, Theo. People say he has political ambitions too, and Mark watches him from time to time. There's one thing about Tim that clearly frustrates Mark. Tim has children, and whenever he meets potential voters, he has one extra advantage. He's a family man, and that gives people a sense of stability, a picture of normal life they instinctively trust.

The problem is… I can't give Mark that. I'm twenty-two years old, but I still haven't even gone through my first heat. For some reason, it's almost as if my body refuses to do it.

It's become a growing source of frustration for Mark, and we've already scheduled an appointment with a specialist who's supposed to help by giving me hormone injections to trigger it. Apparently it's neither healthy nor recommended, but Mark is tired of waiting.

He gets to his feet, his polished smile plastered in place, and walks toward the podium where he's about to address a group of investors planning to transform an abandoned section of the city into a thriving entertainment district.

As he begins speaking, my attention drifts to the people seated around the elegant tables surrounding him, and a chill immediately runs through me because I recognize three of them.

One is Anzo Ferro, the mafia capo. Next to him is a small omega, who may be Anzo's new husband, Moon, but I'm not sure.

The third is the disgusting rapist, Anzo's underboss, Rocco, and the sheer sight of his face makes my body tremble. Sitting beside him is his cousin, Ennio, the same man who helped pull me out of Rocco's clutches back then, though he explained it as nothing more than a pragmatic decision. He's the one who gave me the pendant I've worn around my neck ever since, telling me it came from someone who wanted to save me.

Sometimes I still think about that anonymous man. I wonder if he was the one who first knocked on Rocco's door. Some mafia soldier? I never got a good look at him because I was lying on the bed at an angle where I couldn't see who was standing outside, and I was far too deep in shock to pay attention to what they were saying. The only thing I remember was his strange, muted voice. I also know Rocco struck him with the butt of a gun.