“No, he’s fine. He’ll be fine.”
He won’t be. Conan is gone, and his funeral is this room full of pain. All he’s ever done is be kind to me, and I destroyed his life.
“Carina…” That’s Ryder, pleading. Not realizing the conversation I’m having with the power of destruction.
He’s gone. You’re mine.
“No.”
Accept it. Acceptme.
“Never.”
“Carina.” Ryder’s voice again pushes through the haze—the cloud of Darkness I’m happy to succumb to…because what was the point in all this? Sloane got her way. A shifter is dead. I’m a danger to Highridge.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper without looking up from Conan’s face. My words are meant for both him and the others.
Sloane’s hand leans into my shoulder, shattering the voice in my mind and Ryder’s plea. It wipes away the grief and sends a chill through my veins that have my hands sliding off Conan with acceptance. Her touch doesn’t only remind me of my new reality, but replaces my emotions with only one: hatred. Hate for the bitch who made all this happen.
My voice sounds far away when I tell her, “His name was Conan, and he was a good person.” She should at least know the name I’ll be avenging before her life ends.
Her nails curl into my shoulder. “He was a sacrifice and will be remembered as such.”
I jerk her off me to stand, shutting my eyes against the body below me. Darkness craves more Darkness, she claims, so I’ll feed it more. Her death will sustain me, and all of our problems will be solved. I’ll avenge Conan, and Harlow’s parents from the past. I’ll avenge both Harlow and myself for having our souls altered like this, and the pack for what they lost.
Do it. Kill her. Hurt her.
This time, I listen to the voice. Emotions channel, summoning the Darkness above my water magick. Beckoning forth every evil that wants to rip this witch apart.
Sloane observes the tendrils seeping from my skin that encase my arms in silky sleeves. “Misplaced anger is no reason to attack. You forget my decades of using this over you, so you’ll fail before you can even make an attempt.”
“Except I’m no longer expendable, am I?” I smile—one Darkness would be proud of. One that curls my lips into a snarl. My shifter teeth prod to join. “You made me powerful. You gave me purpose. Save the covens, listen to a Seer’s warning, help Earth. I vow to do all that, but your help isn’t required.”
The tendrils dart forward.
Fifth Intermission
FREYA
What.
The.
Fuck.
No.
Nononononono.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
At least, I don’t think it is…
Harlow becoming Dark wasn’t shown to me—nor was her becoming a vampire, but since the two are so closely linked together, it’s okay.
But Carina? The bit she took from the late Alaric should have been it.
Why isn’t Hecate showing me everything? How can I do my wondrous job if things are being hidden?
