Page 47

At the table, Idril and Branwen sit next to each other, with Soren on Idril’s left and Kane next to him. Gav’s in his customary seat at the head of the table, so Dax and I slide in opposite the Omegas and wolven.

Kane’s gaze catches mine, and he grins, looking like a fucking feral aardvark.

I think.

I don’t really know for sure what those look like, but in my head, they look like Kane.

Gav pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales heavily. “It’s been a long night,” he starts, leaning his forearms on top of the table. “I don’t want to drag this out, because I know you’re all as ready to get to sleep as I am. So, here’s what we’re going to do.”

He points at Idril. “You’re going to answer my questions, and for fucks sake, don’t make me Alpha Command you tonight.”

Cool. We’re doing this now? That’s... awesome.

I shove my chair back and stand, heading straight for the whiskey. I’m halfway back to the table with my glass when I think better of it and jog back, grabbing the whole bottle and tucking it under my arm.

I feel like I’m gonna need to be drunk for this conversation.

I pour a few fingers for Gav, passing it over as he turns to Idril and begins his interrogation.

“Explain to me what you can and cannot do. I want specifics.”

Soren scoots closer to his Mate, like he can shield her from Gavran’s questions. But when Gav’s words register, he frowns at his Mate in confusion. “What’s he talking about, Idril?”

Dax sits straighter, like a predator scenting blood in the water. He answers before Idril has a chance.

“No one’s told you? Your Mate makes shit explode.”

Soren’s brow furrows.

“Apologies. Allow me to clarify. Your Mate makes shit explode,” his smile widens. “With her fucking mind.”

Soren rearranges his features into something carefully neutral, but not before I catch his flicker of shock. The Omega sinks into her chair, eyes darting around the room, anxiety dialed up to a thousand.

Does she look worse than she did downstairs?

When the silence gets too loud, she reaches for the hem of her shirt with shaking fingers, twisting it back and forth as she whispers, “That's not—I don’t know how I did that. With the beams in the attic. I was upset and it just... h-happened. I don’t know how I’ve done any of it.”

She turns wide, pleading eyes on Soren. “Things have happened. The last week or so. Things I’m doing. Or causing. Or—or—I don’t know. There was a fire in the hallway. In the sconces. The flames, they—I was upset. And just—woosh! Before that, Vaelenor was in my room. In the attic. And he said⁠—”

She presses her lips together, face twisting like she’s in physical pain.

Like what I said really hurt her.

I throw back my drink and reach for the bottle.

“It hurt,” she admits, looking down at her lap. “And I was sad. Angry. All I wanted was for it all to stop. For the pain to stop. Just for a moment. The taunts and being called a liar and everyone using my trauma against me. I wanted it all to stop. I was so tired.”

She swallows thickly. Her next words are barely a whisper.

“I’m so, so tired…”

“What happened?” Soren’s voice is gentle.

“Just what they said,” she answers, still refusing to look at him. “The wood beams across the ceiling exploded. Shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.”

Soren’s shoulders tense. “Fates, were you hurt? Are you alright?”

Idril’s body jerks in shock. Wide blue eyes snap to Soren. Her expression tightens as she searches his gaze.