“I bind your life to mine.” She speaks plainly, like the words are easy to give. Like the solution doesn’t hurt. It does. The change in her is subtle, but I catch it—the way something in her cracks, the emotion rising before she presses it back down. “I will weave the threads of your life force, and I will tie them to mine.”
My breath lodges in my throat, blood roaring in my ears as my head snaps toward the woman beside me. Toward the version of my mother I lost months ago. Her eyes lift to mine, regret written there. Not for the choice itself—but for what it cost. For the truth that this is what took her from me. Not a car accident. Not an accident at all. Not fate.
A choice she made willingly. A sacrifice.
“What did you do?” I whisper, my voice barely holding together.
Her face softens to the point of almost breaking. “What I had to, my girl.”
Past her continues, drawing my attention back, reluctantly. “It’s not a cure, but with my life force feeding yours, it will take longer for the madness to claim you. It will give you more time.”
Merritt jerks, adjusting his grip on the now despondent, and sobbing version of me in his hold. The look on her face is heartbreak and betrayal in its purest form.
He still doesn’t look like he believes her, and asks incredulously, “How much more time?”
“Years. I don’t know exactly how many, but it’s more than the mere months you have now.”
Seven.
That’s how many years Merritt Fallamhain bought with my mother’s life. Seven years of power. Seven years to expandhis morally bankrupt empire. I don’t need proof on paper to know he thrived. The rising number of missing omegas exists as evidence of his success. The helicopter being replaced with a full runway for a plane also told this story. The other improvements that greeted me when I returned. His home. The lodge. The schoolhouse. The general store. The coffee shop. Every upgrade in this territory paid for in blood and tears that weren’t his.
“And if I accept this arrangement,” Merritt starts after a moment. “What do you want in return? Aside from the obvious, your life.”
Her answer is simple. “You let us leave. Unharmed. And you won’t try to find us.”
Merritt laughs. A real laugh. The kind that makes my stomach drop because it sounds no less cruel than his artificial, mocking ones. Maybe worse. “Do you think I’m an idiot, weaver? You said it yourself. Your daughter belongs to my son. It’s been obvious for months that they’re fated.” His eyes flick to me, cold and apathetic. “Convincing him to let her go was always going to be difficult. That much was clear long before I accepted what it would take me removing her from the board completely to accomplish it.”
Mom’s gaze sharpens. The younger version of me wilts in his grip.
He scoffs. “What? I figured we’re far past mincing words or being diplomatic. I told you—I won’t allow my son to take her as his mate. And the only way to make an Alpha walk away from his fated is to eliminate her completely. Which is why you, just flying like a little bat in the night, will never work. As long as he believes there’s a chance that she’s still alive, he will never give up on her. He will spend the rest of his life searching for her and he will not take another as his chosen mate.”
Even when my memories were twisted and incomplete, I never fully forgot Merritt Fallamhain. Enough of an impression remained for me to be certain of one thing—he was a harsh, unforgiving man. Rennick’s speech at the betrothal, the truth of what it meant to grow up under that man’s guidance sharpened my feelings toward the late Alpha into something with teeth. Hate. And now? I loathe this man with everything I am, with a depth that makes me wish there were bones left just so I could spit on them. Damn shifters and their proclivity for pyres and turning everything into ash.
I know what Mom is about to offer him before she opens her mouth. The final pieces are already snapping into place, the full picture revealing itself to me with ruthless clarity. The truth is laid bare and it’s in this harrowing heartbreak that I finally understand. I understand her and her choices. I see how she was doing everything she could to keep us together, even if it appeared like she was breaking us apart.
“I’ll bind their minds. I’ll lock away their memories of each other—of their bond. What I can’t lock away, I’ll alter. I’ll make it so they have no reason or want to search each other out,” Mom tells him steadily, but I can tell every word tastes like poison and remorse. “With Rennick’s memories of Noa gone, he won’t come looking for us. He’ll believe whatever sordid tale you tell the pack after we’re gone.”
Merritt dips his chin toward the younger version of me, still trapped in his arms, her mouth covered. Her muffled cries continue beneath the conversation, a grim soundtrack to the negotiation that changed everything. “What about her?”
“I’ll change her memories of Rennick too?—”
“No,” he interrupts. “That’s not what I’m asking. What about her magic?”
Mom’s ability to maintain such flawless composure in moments like these is almost unsettling. Her poker face isaward-winning. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react. She only blinks at him, and asks, evenly, “What magic?”
His grip tightens on the younger version of me, shaking her slightly as he snarls, “Don’t try and paint me a fool. She’s just like you, isn’t she? A mind weaver or something. She got into my head, or one of my men’s, and saw what we were doing. I’ve been racking my brain, going over every possibility, but this is the only one that makes sense.” His eyes narrow. “I know she has magic like you.”
“Well,” I mutter under my breath, eyes never leaving the scene, “for all his faults, he wasn’t stupid.”
Mom does her best to minimize his concern, downplaying it as much as she can. “She’s my daughter. Of course she has access to some magic.”
He’s not taking the bait. “If you want me to agree to this and not rip out her throat right now—or, hand her over to Tanith to auction off to the most brutal alpha in her little black book—you’ll bind her magic. I won’t risk her getting into your head later and seeing the truth of what happened here. I won’t have her finding her way back to Rennick and ruining everything.”
“I can’t bind her magic—it’s tied to her wolf,” Mom answers, keeping her voice level despite everything. “Binding her magic would mean caging her wolf.”
“Okay, then cage her fucking wolf.”
Mom’s expression tightens, the start of a protest forming, but Merritt ends it before it can begin. He adjusts his grip on the younger version of me and sweeps her legs out from under her, forcing her down onto her knees in the mud.
