Page 38

“Aw,” he says with a dramatic pout. “Is that any way to speak to your brother?”

My what? “My what?”

“The name’s Wyatt Kipland.”

That means nothing to me. “Okay, cowboy,” I respond, because the name reminds me of a cowboy in a rom-com. “I have two gay moms and no idea who the fuck you are, so despite whatever idea you conjured about the makeup of your family, you’re not my brother.”

“Oh, sure I am, and I’d expect someone as smart as you, Mayor Crane, would have some awareness of how babies are made. Guess what?” He advances on me, and all I can do is crawl backward to get away from him and closer to the forest. “Your dad is also my dad.”

“Henrik?” I say with a gasp. He’s right. I should’ve put that together without his help. But then I start cackling, because…really? “My fucking brother? What is this, Scream 3?” I land on my back in the gravel because I’m laughing so hard. “Wait, let me guess.” I return his dramatic pout. “Daddy didn’t hug you enough, so now you have no choice but to take your anger out on women? Poor, poor little short man.” I sit up and shake my head. “I didn’t realize the person to blame for this waking nightmare was such a cliche.”

Whatever he has to say means shit to me now. I just want to make sure his heart stops beating. I close my eyes, curling my hands into fists as I summon the heat from my rage, picturing the ball of fire that will soon appear in my palm. Thankfully, he’s close enough I’ll definitely be able to hit him with it.

As the lick of flame teases the center of my scraped palm, my fingers release, and it fades. I look down, confused, as I try over and over to clench my fists. It doesn’t work.

I look up at Wyatt, and he’s beaming with pride.

Fear washes over me as my lips fail to open when I try to ask him what the fuck he’s so smug about. A tingling sensation travels from my scalp down my spine and into my toes as I fall onto my back.

He comes close enough to be standing over me. “Ah, that’s the zirafol. A liquid paralytic being developed in Henrik’s lab. Yeah, I sprayed it all over the ground here. It can be absorbed through the skin. Isn’t that incredible? Being an elemental witch, I figured you’d try to make your way here when I showed up.”

I can’t move a single part of my body. When I try to speak, the only thing I can get out is a few panicked grunts.

He shrugs. “I also followed you the last time you came here and talked to your giant tree buddy. Too bad he doesn’t leave the forest, huh?” He lifts his head to look at the tree line. “Maybe he’s watching us right now. Helplessly witnessing the end of the bloodline that brought him here. So sad.”

Wyatt begins walking in a circle around my limp body. “You know, the only thing I wanted was to become Henrik’s successor. That’s it. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I mean, we see it everywhere. There are nepo babies in every industry. It’s inescapable. Hell.” He kicks my foot with his boot. I don’t feel it, I only hear it and register the movement of my body as a result of it. “Even you’re a nepo baby. For whatever fucking reason, Henrik seems to trust you. I’ve heard him talk about you around the office countless times. He respects you.” He crouches down, folding his hands between his spread thighs. “I bet he’d promote you if you worked there. Yet here I am, still an assistant to a middle manager after six years of service.”

There’s so much I want to say right now to mock him. Especially since these may be my final moments alive. The last thing I want to do is stay silent while a white boy with daddy issues complains about his lack of upward mobility.

“It’s not like I don’t deserve it, you know? I’m polite. I’m professional. I haven’t been accused of sexual harassment by anyone there.”

Ooh, let me go polish the trophy.

“Still. He fucking ignores me.”

He takes a few steps away but stays within my line of sight. “The worst part is, it’s his fault I’m like this. Look.”

The air crackles around him, a sheer cloud forming as a barrier around his body. When the cloud dissipates, in Wyatt’s place is a dragon with shimmering brown-and-gold scales that cover his body. He’s no ordinary dragon shifter, though. This dragon is the size of a pony.

A moment later, he shifts back, holding his arms out wide. “See? Yeah, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the dragon shifter gene in the Olsson bloodline has a mutation. Henrik’s dragon isn’t as big as a standard shifter’s, but he’s still the size of a school bus.”

I’m aware of the mutation. It’s the reason why Morsa can’t shift at all. Luckily, my blood doesn’t have it, which I guess I should be thankful for. I’d much rather be an elemental witch than a pocket-sized dragon.

“Here I am, a puny dragon the size of a fucking donkey.”

Oh, a donkey makes it so much funnier. I wish I could tell him how cute his dragon is.

Behind Wyatt, I spot Ziggy scampering past. His yellow eyes meet mine. I’ve got this. Stay alive, he sends, before disappearing behind the tree line.

My heart leaps into my throat when I realize what day it is. The eleventh. The one day each month no one is permitted to enter the forest.

Zig. Don’t, I warn. It’s the eleventh.

I don’t fucking care, Emma. We need his help.

If this ends with Ziggy dying too, I’ll never forgive myself, even in the afterlife.

“Then I have to come up here to this shithole town, which is basically just a bunch of freaks in the middle of the woods, and they love you so much here too, I have to cloak myself every other second to avoid being seen.” He shoots me the stink-eye over his shoulder. “So fucking annoying. It’s not like you’re any better than me. You’re a nepo baby too, so why do these people care about you? Why does Henrik?”