“Trust me.”
"Always," he said.
33
MAREN
Maren's shadows wrapped around the locket with Tristan's hand still gripping it.
The connection snapped into place immediately, sharp and clear. His strength. Her magic. The bond between them humming like a tuning fork struck hard. It was as if it had been waiting to be recognized since the night they joined to strengthen the wards.
"Wait," the doppelgänger said, backing away. "You don't understand what you're doing. The binding?—"
"Shut up." Maren poured what remained of her power into the shadows, feeling them respond despite exhaustion. They thickened around the locket, layer upon layer, creating a sanctuary of darkness that pulsed with her heartbeat.
Tristan's other hand found her shoulder, steadying her. "What do you need?"
"Your tiger. The roar." Her vision swam but she forced focus. "Magic has vibration. Frequency. If we can shatter the locket's resonance before destroying it physically, the backlash might disperse instead of feedback into the bloodline."
"Might?"
"Better than definitely dying." She met his eyes. "On three?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze steady despite the cold that had nearly killed him. His tiger rose to the surface, visible in how his pupils dilated, how his breathing deepened.
"One." Maren's shadows tightened further, compressing around silver and stone.
"Wait, please." The doppelgänger's voice turned desperate. "I can tell you who activated me. Who stole your blood. Who wanted you destroyed."
"Two." Tristan's chest expanded, preparing.
"Thomas Wells!" The construct's words tumbled out fast, frantic. "It was Wells. But he doesn't remember. I possessed him. Used him. Made him break into your cottage while he slept, made him steal hair from your brush and blood from a cut you didn't notice."
Maren's concentration wavered. "You possessed him?"
"The locket did. I wasn't even formed yet, just hunger and awareness sleeping in silver." The doppelgänger's form flickered, destabilizing as the shadows tightened. "The town's fear woke me. Their suspicion of you. Their old hatred of shadow witches. It fed me enough consciousness to reach out, to touch the mind of whoever feared you most."
"Wells," Tristan said quietly.
"He was perfect. Angry. Frightened. Easy to control." The construct's smile turned bitter. "I made him vandalize your home. Made him spread rumors. Made him gather what I needed to form this body. And he never knew. Thought his hatred was his own. Thought his actions were justified fear instead of supernatural manipulation."
"You're lying," Maren said, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Why would I lie now? You're about to kill me either way." The doppelgänger gestured to the locket straining against shadow confinement. "I just want you to know the fear willalways be there, with or without me." Her smile went wicked. “You can stay weak and still be seen as a threat. Unwanted. That will never change.”
Maren's shadows pulsed with her anger. "It was you. Using them. Making them hurt me while they slept."
"Making them fear you while they were awake," the doppelgänger corrected. "I couldn't force emotion. Just fed on what was already there. Their suspicion. Their old prejudices. Their certainty that shadow magic meant danger."
"The truth is you're a parasite," Maren said. "You fed on fear and turned it into violence. Whether Wells knew he was possessed or not, you're the reason this happened."
"And you're the reason I existed at all." The construct's voice hardened. "Your ancestor created the locket. Your mother kept it instead of destroying it. Your presence in Hollow Oak woke me with suspicion and old hatred." It smiled without humor. "We're both products of the Pitch bloodline. The only difference is I accepted what I am."
"Three," Tristan said.
He roared.
The sound split the frozen air, raw and backed by shifter power that made the ice beneath them vibrate. Not words. Not human. Pure tiger given voice, pitched at a frequency that resonated with magic itself.
