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She flipped around, her hair whacking my arm with the movement before she marched away. Charlotte and Sasha pierced me with a discerning gaze. The other wolves in the region chuckled, having overheard our little spat. Aggravated wasn’t the right word. It was much worse than that.
But it was certainly less than betrayal.
I rubbed my forehead while breathing as deeply as possible.
The betrayed bride is his cousin, I reflected as I wandered after Rose. There was no use trying to rush. I knew where I would find her.There must be more to that. I have to find the fortress. Maybe there are more clues there.
The scent of candy drew me into the hallway. It wafted past Rose’s office and toward the main lobby, carrying me to the elevators. I could probably follow her scent just about anywhere. Didn’t she know that?
Five floors up and several feet down a mirrored hallway of the floors below set me in front of a garden room door. The humidity inside the room was thicker, of course, but the evergreen plants flourished on every shelf, in every corner, near each window. String lights hung overhead, creating a fae-inspired decadence.
Rich soil scattered the pathways. Other than a little dirt here and there, the place was properly maintained, all the plants trimmed to keep them healthy and each pot shining with dedicated care. Someone spent many hours in here with these plants.
Between two ferns sat my beloved Rose, her shoulders curled toward her knees and her face tucked into her hands. She wasn’t crying, but she was close to it. The way I sensed her emotions was far stranger than the fact that I could smell her anywhere.
That meeting, the memory from Bruise, those lewd comments that Domingo had made, his cousin—everything toppled from my head to the ground. As the information spilled from my ears, I approached Rose, letting my mind clear of anything we were just arguing about.
Right now, there was nothing else in the world except her.
“Little b—” I bit my tongue. After clearing my throat, I licked my lips and whispered, “Rose?”
“What?”
I cringed at the exasperated syllables. But who could blame her? This whole thing was a mess. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”
“Do you think I’m weak?”
I plopped onto the cement bench beside her. “Not a damn part of me thinks you’re weak. Where would you get an idea like that?”
“You treat me like I’m… fragile.”
“No, I don’t.”
She lifted her face from her hands. Crimson patches decorated her forehead and her cheeks. A shimmering layer of sweat coated her neck. Shehadbeen crying—she was just gifted at hiding the sound.
Guilt infected me. “I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Well, you did make me cry. So, there’s no use apologizing over it, is there?”
Mamancame to mind. A small smile tugged on my lips, causing me to sigh. “No, you’re right. Apologies are useless, aren’t they?”
“What?”
“My mother, she…” I swallowed around the newly formed lump in my throat. “She always told me it was better to amend using actions rather than words.”
Rose lowered her hands to her thighs. She focused on my hands like she was waiting for them to do something. “I see.”
“She meant I should be more than intentional. I should be committed,” I explained. “And she taught me this with the hope that I would one day step into the world. After the pain. After the war.”
She frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. She did her best. I carry her in my heart every day.”
“It just… It’s awful you had to watch her die.”
My nails dug into my knee. I contained my anger and clutched the very edges of it to keep myself from shifting and launching into the night to chase after Domingo. Perhaps he was doing the very same. “It’s in the past.”
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
