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Onyx huffs and stomps his front hooves, and I step away, opening his gate and mounting his back. As I settle on top of him, Cerberus comes rushing into the stables. Pash pets him when he approaches, scratching under his chin and causing one of Cerberus’ back legs to thump.
I dig into my pocket, pulling out a satchel. I pluck out ten rubies and offer them to Pash. “Here.”
Pash opens his palm, and I dump them in his hand. “Oh—sir, this is too much for today. It’s enough to last us a month.”
“You can take a month off, Pash.”
His eyes well with tears. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”
“No, Pash. You did nothing wrong. Go enjoy your family. I’ll contact you when I need a hand again.” I replace the satchel,gripping Onyx’s reins. “Feel free to clean the stables one last time. If any of the women come looking for me, tell them I don’t want to be found.”
I leave the stables with Onyx, and he dashes away as soon as we’re outside, catching speed. The wind whips at my face, and the mist is stronger today, but the droplets feel good. It reminds me that I’m alive, if only for now. Moments like these can’t be replaced.
My wolf catches up, chasing after us, enjoying the run.
“Yah!” Onyx gallops faster, and I peer over my shoulder at my home. It fades into the distance, and I hope the conversation I just had with Juniper does the same.
I can’t even stay in my own bloody house without being bothered about Willow.
Where is the peace?
When does it end?
Fifty-Eight
WILLOW
I couldn’t sleeplast night. I was and still am worried about Caz.
I searched the internet all night, trying to find information about the Cold Tether, but there’s nothing. In my world, it doesn’t exist…or maybe I’m just looking in all the wrong places.
Regardless, this Tether doesn’t make any sense to me. How can two people who are supposed to be soulmates, not be able to be together? Something about it feels wrong. It’s almost a form of torture—wanting something you know is yours, that you can’t live without, yet being forced away from it.
Every hour, a deeper sensation builds in my chest. It grows stronger the more I think about Caz, and there’s a sliver of pain when I try to get him out of my mind. A bond like this doesn’t just go away, no matter what world we’re in.
Something doesn’t add up, and now that I’m back home, I feel there’s only one person I can talk to openly about it. After my third cup of coffee, I collect my bag and phone and leave my apartment, but when I reach the parking lot, I spot Garrett closing his car door with his foot. A pink box is in one hand,probably full of pastries from one of his favorite bakeries, and in the other is a drink tray with two iced coffees. At the sight of him, my mouth becomes dry. What the hell is he doing here?
“Garrett, hi.” I purposely give my keys a jingle, a clear indication that I’m about to leave. “I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“Wanted to surprise you,” he says, meeting up to me, his face solemn. For a surprise, he doesn’t look very happy.
“Well, look at that. I’m surprised.” I force a laugh. I really wish he would’ve called before popping up. I should start instilling boundaries.
“I know I should’ve called,” he says, as if reading my mind. “I just stopped by to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. But yeah, you should’ve called first because I have a few things to do.”
“Where are you headed? I can go with you.”
“I’m going to see Faye and then grab a few groceries.” The last part is a lie, though I do need groceries.
“Oh. Girl time?” He smirks, and I force another laugh. He then shifts on his feet. He’s being weird, and it’s making me uncomfortable. “Look, is there anything you need? Anything you want to talk about?”
“No, not really. I just need to see Faye first. I told her I’d swing by.” That much is true. I just didn’t say when, and since it’s fall, she’s busy at the bookstore, but I can help her there. There are always books needing to be shelved or tables to clean off in the café area. Plus, people love being there when the weather cools off and they’re seeking a cozy place to hang out.
Garrett places the box of baked goodies on the trunk of my car as well as the drinks. Stuffing his hands into his front pockets, he says, “She told me about Warren.”
I try not to flinch at the name. “What about him?”
