The worst part is my mouth. My lip is torn in a permanent partial snarl that exposes a sliver of teeth. I look… unrecognizable.
I look like amonster.
My knees buckle and I hit the floor hard, the impact sending fresh agony through my battered body. I don't care. Can't care. Can't think about anything except what's staring back at me from that mirror.
I curl in on myself, pressing my forehead against the cold wooden floor, and I sob until I can't fucking breathe anymore.
And of course that's how Kyle finds me.
"Regina?" he demands. "What the hell are you doing on the floor?"
I can't answer. Can't stop crying. Can barely breathe through the gasps and the tears and the overwhelming despair.
Strong hands slide under my arms, lifting me with surprising gentleness. Kyle carries me back to the bed, settling me against the pillows like I'm made of glass. For a moment, just a single moment, I let myself believe he actually cares.
"Look at me." His fingers touch my chin, tilting my face toward his. I flinch, trying to turn away, to hide the ruined side from his view. "Regina. Look at me."
I force my good eye to meet his. Kyle's expression is neutral, but I can see something flickering beneath the surface, pulling at his lips. Disgust? Pity? I can't tell. Probably fucking both.
"You shouldn't have gotten up," he says. "Kara said complete bed rest."
"I needed to see." My voice cracks. "I needed to know."
"And now you know. Happy?" His thumb brushes my undamaged cheek, the gesture almost tender. "You should have thought about the consequences before you went down there."
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, stinging my wounds.
The gentleness evaporates. His hand drops from my face, and he leans back, studying me with a cold look I know well. The one he wears whenever I fail to perform to his expectations.
"Why did you have a werewolf in the basement?" The question tears out of me before I can stop it. "How could you not tell me?"
His jaw tightens. "This. This right here is why I didn't tell you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you've always been too moral for your own good, Regina." He stands, pacing to the window, his back to me. "Too soft. Too concerned with right and wrong instead of what's necessary."
"Torturing a creature was necessary?"
He whirls on me, and for a moment, I see the real Kyle. The one that lurks beneath the charm and the perfect face. The one that makes lesser witches cross to the other side of the street.
"Thatcreaturewas going to power a ritual that would have elevated our entire coven," he snarls, echoing Kara's words too closely not to feel the sting. "Years of planning, contacts carefully cultivated, all of it building toward something that would have made all the work I've put into this coven worth it. And you ruined it. Because you feltsorryfor amonster."
"I didn't know?—"
"You didn't ask." He moves closer, looming over the bed. "You stuck your nose where it didn't belong, and now look at you. Look at what you've done to yourself. Do you have any idea what people are going to think when they see our Thirteenth looking like... likethat?"
I flinch like he's slapped me.
Something shifts in his expression. The mask slides back into place, and suddenly he's Kyle again. Charming, attentive, everything I thought I loved. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching for my hand.
"I'm sorry," he says, softer now. "That was cruel. I'm just... I'm frustrated, Regina. We worked so hard. And now..." He trails off, shaking his head as he produces a small book from inside his jacket. "I have a solution."
It's leather-bound, worn with use, and I feel the unmistakable prickle of magic in the air around it. A divider marks a specific page.
I open the book, jolting a bit when my fingers make contact with the page. This is old magic. And it's come at a cost. When I see the page he's marked, my heart sinks.
"A glamour spell?"
