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Then they’ll come back.

The shock of cold water hits me like a wall of ice.

I gasp awake, spluttering, choking, trying to breathe. My lungs seize as freezing water pounds down on my head and shoulders. The nausea I hoped might be gone reappears with a vengeance, and bile surges up my throat.

I turn my head to the side, gagging.

“Oh, hell no. Absolutely not. I’m a sympathetic puker, I can’t do it.” Silas sounds frantic and irritated in equal measure. “Nope! I’m out!”

I blink my eyes open, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

I’m in the shower. Someone turned the cold water on full blast.

Why would they do that?

My body aches. My bones feel brittle and weak. Everything hurts from my head to my feet.

I move my arm with all the urgency of a dying animal and push my soaking wet hair out of my face. Someone’s turned the lights on, and they glare down on me.

The water sluices down my face and body. It turns bright red, then pink, as it circles and swirls down the drain.

Blood. So much blood.

A rough hand grabs me by the shoulder. Another one squeezes what smells like my soap all over the front of my dress before roughly scrubbing it all over me. Up my legs, over my ribs, down my arms. Whoever it is doesn’t take off my clothing, for which I’m grateful, though I can’t help but wish they’d be a bit more gentle.

Fates, why can’t I keep anything straight in my mind? At least I remember telling them about Caelan. Did they send someone for him?

“Is he alive?” I mumble. “Did it work?”

Did I help? Did anything I do keep him safe at all?

That isn’t what they hear, though.

The hands that are scrubbing me still their movements. Fingers flex and dig into my shoulder and ribs so hard I whine in pain. It’s a pitiful, keening Omega whine, and for once, I don’t even care if it proves how weak I am.

Right now, I am weak. And tired. And so incredibly confused.

“Did it work?” Silas repeats the words, echoing like a gunshot in the confined space. “Did what work, little liar?”

Liar?

I shake my head. Water streams into my eyes as I try to explain what I mean.

“I knew he’d come,” I whisper. “I knew he’d come and I tried⁠—”

I tried to stay awake. I was afraid that my father was planning something. He promised he’d come back for me, and I was going to warn him away.

I don’t get to finish my thought. Later, I’ll realize that in that moment, all they heard was “I knew he’d come,” and believe I set a trap for him. Lured him in, then sat back and watched my father attack.

“You knew,” Gav’s voice is barely a whisper, but I feel his disappointment down to my bones. “You fucking knew what would happen to him. Fates, I didn’t actually believe it, but it’s true.”

I whimper. “No, I was going to warn him. Father was going to⁠—”

“Going to what?” Silas digs his fingers deeper into my shoulders and shakes me hard enough to make my teeth rattle. “Finish the fucking sentence! Finish explaining how you lured our brother to his DEATH!”

I can’t. Not because I can’t remember, but because the moment I open my mouth, the pain hits. I know immediately it’s not mine. It’s Caelan’s.

It slams through the Bond, and agony flares through my veins. Bright, hot, and full of menace, like someone doused me in gasoline and lit a match.