“A week ago, now.”
Some of my enthusiasm deflates, and I give Sin a slight shrug. “It’s a long shot, but we should check if she’s come back for it.”
His own expression is dubious, but he nods, regardless.
A hissing cackle draws our attention back to the woman. “The crystal is long gone.”
“How do you know? Did you see her come back?” Sin clarifies. Instead of his usual gruff voice, he speaks to her with a gentle, almost comforting tone. It makes my heart warm.
She spits on the ground. “Because I smashed it, that’s how. But don’t you worry. I may be old, but I’m not dead.”
Her eyes meet ours, and there’s a sharpness behind them that wasn’t there before, even as her breaths come in staggered hisses. “I tracked her scent. She works at the Rusty Dagger, one block over. Look for a younger woman with long red hair and fangs.”
My brow lifts, amazed to have gotten so lucky. “Thank you, that is incredibly helpful. Are you sure we can’t help you?”
“No one can help me, dear,” she coughs again, and I frown, not convinced. Her expression turns pleading. “Just find them. Find my mate.”
Sin nods, and even after we’ve given our thanks, I keep looking over my shoulder, worrying that she needs help. “I think we should at least let someone know. She sounded sick.”
Dismayed, I watch as the older woman doubles over, almost falling off the bench from a coughing fit. No one slows or even looks her way.
Sin sighs but doesn’t slow his stride. His hand rests firmly against my lower back. “We can’t help her. When a shifter’s mate dies, they follow them in death soon after. Any attempt to slow her death would be a grievous insult. She would think you’re trying to keep her from her mate,” he explains.
“That’s… heartbreaking,” I respond. We turn a corner, and I lose sight of her.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” he answers simply.
Jarred by his answer, I snap my head up to look at him. But he isn’t looking at me; his eyes are fixed ahead.
He’s still talking about the shifters, right?
“So, what’s the plan? Do we find the woman and confront her?” I ask, ready to change the subject, just in case this is a segue into talking about my shattered soul.
While I’ve loved having an afternoon that isn’t riddled with mortal danger, it’s made it harder to ignore the way things inside of me feel… off.
Any physical side effects of a shattered soul are easy enough to write off as exhaustion. But my mind is starting to feel weird, too – like my intrusive thoughts are suddenly growing louder.
It’s too bad the Beast Realm doesn’t have internet. This really seems like a WebMD problem.
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with first,” he hedges. A dark look flashes across his face when he turns to look at me, and his eyes narrow slightly as they scan my body.
I try to swallow, but my mouth feels dry.
He knows.
There are structurally integral things crumbling within me, and he knows.
“Kitten,” he warns.
“I’m not letting you die for me,” I whisper harshly.
A low growl escapes him. “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to let me diewithyou.”
Does he think that’s somehow better?
I tear my gaze away, not wanting to feel like he’s peering inside my soul. Sin has lived for thousands of years. He’ll be okay when I’m gone. If anything, this will give him a chance to find someone more worthy.
Someone he can love.
