“That’s enough of that,”
When the cut is clean, I apply a soft white bandage before I pull the covers back on the bed, frowning. “It’s like you haven’t slept in here at all.”
She begins to struggle. “I can’t. I need to go back to the nest.”
“Like fuck,” I bark, toning it down a notch when she flinches. “Sienna, you’re hurt, baby. You need to rest that leg for a while. Just for a little bit.”
For the first time, her face shows a glimmer of emotion.Fear.
“The Trial is tomorrow,” she whispers, dread lacing her words as she shudders. “I’m going to – I’m going to fail.”
I stare down at her, realization sinking in. The empty room. It’s still dirty, and there’s nothing in it. No blankets, no soft lighting, nothing at all that suggests the space to be an omega’s nest.
Sienna is right. She’s not going to pass.
And we’ve just left her to struggle.
“I’ll fix it,” I murmur. “I promise, Sienna. I just need you to rest.”
She blinks at me, but her eyes are already starting to drift closed. “Why would you do that?”
I try to smile. “You’ve worked so hard to clear it all. Least I can do.”
“But you hate me,” she whispers as her eyes close. Her breathing slows, her body growing lax as she falls into sleep.
“I don’t hate you.”
The only person I hate right now is myself.
I tug the blankets over her, wrapping her up and being careful of her leg before I turn and hightail it out of the room and down to Tristan’s office, throwing the door open.
“What’s wrong?” Tristan is nursing another glass of drink as he sits behind his desk. I haven’t seen him at home without one on his hand since this shit started.
“We fucked up.” I pace back and forth.
“I know,” he sighs. “I’m working on it, Lo.”
“No.” Spinning, I slam my hand down on his desk. “We fucked up massively. She’s sick, Tristan!”
He bolts upright, his face losing color. “What are you talking about?”
“She cut her leg open a few days ago in that fucking room and I just caught her about to pass out. She just wrapped a filthy rag around it and carried on because she’s so worried about failing the Trial. Tristan,we have fucked this up.”
He jumps to his feet. “Where is she?”
“I put her to bed in her room. Which looks completely untouched, by the way. I’m really worried about her, Tristan.”
His eyes flicker past me, bouncing between the door and the papers on his desk. “I…,”
“This isn’t working,” I say quietly. “Whatever semblance of a plan we had is done, Tristan. I’m not doing it anymore.”
“You’re notdoing it anymore?” he shouts. “Who the fuck do you think I’m doing this for? You want pictures of you and Gray splashed across every paper in Navarre?”
Pushing back the instinct to step back, I square up to him. “I never gave a fuck about that. The whole damn world can know for all I care.”
Tristan’s nostrils flare. “That’s not what I thought.”
“Well, you thought wrong. It’s Gray that cares about that.”
