Page 24 of Ruthless Ends


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Because there wasn’t a single hair out of place.

He hadn’t left the estate, not once. He had no ties to Westcott. He’d attended to all of his usual duties. Friends reported his behavior to be completely normal. Even the vampire partnered with him hadn’t sensed anything off.

The king has downplayed the situation, trying to avoid panic. But everyone is on edge, and anyone can see it.

“Tell me you at least had something to eat with that whiskey.” Cam’s frown deepens when I hesitate. “I can only do so much to build up your strength if you don’t give your body the fuel it needs.”

“Last I checked, lecturing wasn’t a part of your job description.”

I expect more pushback, but he just waves his hand. “Give me two laps around the field to warm up.”

I let out a huff of protest as I wind my hair into a ponytail. Apparently Adrienne deemed Cam a worthy enough replacement babysitter because she’s conveniently nowhere to be seen now. I think he scares the hell out of her.

I take off at a slow jog, but instead of criticizing my pace, Cam falls into step beside me. I peer at him sideways, wondering if he’s tagging along to continue lecturing me, but he says nothing as we make our way around the field.

I make it through a full lap and a half before hunching over the bushes and emptying the contents of my stomach. Cam sighs, as if expecting this, but still says nothing as he holds my hair with one hand and braces the other on my back.

“Stop being nice to me,” I snap as I wipe my hand across my mouth.

“You’re punishing yourself enough. You don’t need it from me too.”

The nausea in my stomach surges up and settles behind my jaw. He said something like that to me once before. Standing outside my tent, a fire roaring in the background, my body feeling even weaker than it does right now.

The only person you’re punishing is yourself, and maybe that’s what you’re trying to do.

I don’t want him to be right. But the guilt that sparks in my chest every time I replay that man jumping off the building does ease when I let myself bleed.

I retch again, hoping the tears on my cheeks look like my eyes watering from vomiting. Cam’s hand rubs gentle circles on my back, and I let myself, just for a moment, find comfort in it.

“Come on,” he says once it’s clear I’m not going to start again. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“You’re supposed to be my trainer, not my personal chef.”

“I’m supposed to help you get your strength back. And right now, your body doesn’t need a workout, so shut up and follow me before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you there. And I want your vomit on me even less than I wanted your blood, so please don’t make me do that.”

I also know he won’t hesitate in doing it, seeing as that’s how he carried me into the wolf camp that first day. I scowl, but like my stomach is agreeing with him, it takes the opportunity to let out a weird gurgle.

Cam’s eyebrow hikes up.

“Fine,” I grumble. “But I’m not drinking one of those disgusting protein shakes again.”

He flashes me a satisfied smile, then nudges me forward. “You’ll take what I give you and you’ll like it.”

* * *

When I get backto Adrienne’s room, my stomach is full, my buzz has all but worn off, and I’m desperately in need of a nap. But as soon as I open the door, my eyes fall on a package sitting in the center of the bed. It’s small, barely larger than an envelope, and wrapped in white paper and twine.

Adrienne’s bags are gone, so she must have already left for school. I take a cautious step forward, every hair on my body standing at attention.

Because I can feel the current of magic lingering on the package even from several feet away. For some reason, it feels familiar. Not quite the way my magic feels, but adjacent. Related.

Adrienne?

A shock of electricity courses through my fingers as I pick it up, and I let out a low hiss, but the sting subsides quickly. I unwrap it slowly in case it does it again. Inside, there’s a sheet of thick cardstock. Something clatters to the ground as I pull the note from the envelope.

I gasp at the flash of pain as whatever it is ricochets off my foot. A bead of blood wells to the surface of my skin, and I squat, searching the ground—there.

My hand freezes midway.

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