“What?” I whispered. “What about Samantha?”
“Grieving. Leave her be, she’ll need time.”
He ate so calmly. There was no reaction, no empathy. I gritted my teeth. He’d known about it for a while.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He frowned at me, saying nothing. Numb, I straightened.
“Stay put.” I rounded to the door.
“Where are you going?” he snarled, grabbing my wrist. I stopped and met his wide eyes. Was that a flash of panic?
“To check on Samantha.”
It took an unimaginable effort for him to force himself to let me go.
“If you need something, just wait,” I ordered. Not wasting another moment, I took off, taking the stairs two at a time. She’d opened up to me, expressing how much it meant to get new opportunities in the pack. Now she’d lost her mate because of it.
My steps became faster and faster until I was outside. She’d been alone, suffering for weeks. I rubbed my arms to stave off the crisp chill of the incoming winter. The nights were turning colder and colder, and every morning I woke to a fine dusting of ice on the blades of grass.
Once I crossed the lawn to the front door, I knocked on the mahogany surface. I waited in silence, but there was no response. I knocked again.
“Samantha?” I called. “Can I come in?”
No answer. The door creaked with my nudge and I entered.
The house smelled stale and stuffy, like the place was abandoned. There was no sign of her in the kitchen or the living room. I started going through the bedrooms. The only room I’d been in was Cierra’s old one, and I hadn’t seen what room Samantha had chosen for herself.
It hurt to swallow. Guilt festered in my stomach.
The first two bedrooms were empty. Finally, I found her in the third. I froze at the threshold, studying her still body on the mattress. There was no movement.
“Samantha?” I ran forward and grabbed her shoulder. She rolled with my movement and blinked up at me, her face blotchy.
She was alive. I exhaled slowly.
Hollows dipped her cheeks, and her eyes were bloodshot. Tears burst forward, and she let out a wail. I rubbed her shoulder in a soothing circle. Her room was a mess, the blinds closed. I propped myself on the edge of the mattress.
Her sobs didn’t taper off. She deserved to grieve however she wanted, but I was worried about her mental state. I swept a look around her room. Clothes spilled out of all the drawers like she’d yanked things out in anger. Sorin’s clothes were scattered across the bed.
She sought his scent out.
My heart hurt for her. To lose a mate . . . The band around my throat constricted. Dad had struggled when Mom passed. I had no doubt he would have left this world if I weren’t his responsibility. I’d watched him struggle every single day. They were a few hard years, and the pain never truly faded.
Samantha’s shoulders were bony. When did she last eat?
I pushed off the bed.
“I’m going to get you some food.” I shuffled away, heading to the kitchen. Fruit rotted in the holder in the middle of the table. Flies buzzed around. I went to the sink and crouched to search for garbage bags. I found them in a drawer and got to throwing away everything that had gone bad in the fridge, too.
Once I finished tossing everything, I went through the pantry, searching for something light to feed her. It was slim pickings, but—there—little packets. Oatmeal would be perfect. I poured the contents in a bowl, added the almond milk, and popped it in the microwave. While that warmed, I finished emptying the fridge until all that was left were eggs and almond milk, then I tied up the bag and strode to the front door to leave it on the porch.
On my way back to the kitchen, I opened the windows to let in the crisp air.
I couldn’t help but feel guilty that I hadn’t come to see her, but I’d had no idea of her loss.
When I got back to the microwave, the oatmeal was done. I pulled it out and stirred it on my way to the bedroom. Samantha hadn’t moved, and she continued silently crying, her eyes dripping.
