She heard his sharp intake of breath as his grip tightened on her shoulder. But she was already moving past the shock, her mind clicking into a cold, clear mode she barely recognized.
Of course it was Marina.
It made perfect sense, didn’t it? Her aunt had been temporary guardian of Duvain Enterprises since her father’s death. But that guardianship ended when Ember turned twenty-one. Two weeks ago the company had passed fully into her hands—or it would have done if she had been there. Marina’s power would have evaporated, and all those years of waiting, of watching, of barely concealed ambition, would amount to nothing.
Unless Ember died first.
Marina was always going to try, she realized. The only question was when.
The trip to retrieve the jewels had been perfect. A small ship, a skeleton crew, a remote destination. An accident in deep space would be nearly impossible to investigate. And even if someone suspected foul play, who would accuse Marina Duvain? The grieving aunt, the devoted guardian, the woman who had sacrificed so much to care for her brother’s fragile daughter?
The cold clarity of understanding hurt worse than any physical wound. She had known Marina was ambitious. She had suspected that her aunt resented playing second fiddle to a niece she considered weak and unworthy. But she had never imagined this. Never believed that shared blood could mean so little.
Father trusted her,she thought, and the realization brought tears to her eyes for the first time.He trusted her to take care of me, and she tried to kill me.
She took a deep breath, then another. The tears didn’t fall. Instead, something harder took their place—a cold determination that settled into her bones like steel.
“I need to go back.”
CHAPTER 14
The silence between them was deafening. Rykan walked ahead on the narrow trail, his boots crunching through the crusted snow. He didn’t look back. He didn’t offer a hand when the path grew steep or treacherous, the way he had on the journey out.
He could hear Ember struggling behind him—her labored breathing, the occasional slip of her foot on ice—and every instinct in his body screamed at him to turn around. To catch her. To carry her if necessary, cradling her against his chest the way he had when he’d pulled her from the wreckage.
He kept walking, but he did slow down enough to make sure she wouldn’t lose him.
I need to go back.
Her words echoed in his skull like a curse, each repetition carving deeper into something he’d thought was already dead. He should have expected this. He should have known from the moment he’d found her that she would leave. Females like her didn’t belong in mountain cabins with solitary beasts. Theybelonged in warm rooms with soft beds and civilized males who knew how to speak without growling.
She was never mine,his mind whispered savagely.I knew that. I always knew.
But knowing and feeling were different things. And right now, his beast was howling with a pain that bordered on rage.
He’d held her in his arms last night. He’d felt her small body curled against his, trusting and warm, fitting into the hollow of his chest like she’d been made for it. He’d slept—actually slept, deeply and dreamlessly, for the first time in six years—and when he’d woken to find her still there, still breathing, still his, something had cracked open inside him. Something dangerous. Hope.
Now that hope was ash in his mouth.
I need to go back.
Not “we.” Not “come with me.” Just “I.”
She hadn’t even considered asking him. She hadn’t entertained the possibility that he might want to leave with her, to fight beside her, to protect her from the aunt who had tried to murder her. She’d simply announced her decision and waited for him to accept it, the same way she probably expected everyone in her privileged little world to accept her commands.
You’re being unfair,a quieter voice argued.She just found out her own blood tried to kill her. She’s in shock. She’s hurting.
He knew that, but the knowledge didn’t stop the betrayal from festering in his chest like poison. It didn’t stop him from hearing Lysara’s voice layered beneath Ember’s words—that same casual dismissal, that same assumption that he would simply… accept.
You were useful while I needed you. Now I don’t.
Lysara had never said those exact words, of course. She’d been far too clever for that. She’d smiled and touched him and whispered sweet promises right up until the moment she’d chosen his brother instead. And then she’d looked at him with those lying eyes and asked him to understand.
He wouldn’t survive that again. Not from Ember. Not when every moment with her had peeled back another layer of the armor he’d spent six years building.
The cabin came into view through the trees, a dark smudge against the endless white. He increased his pace, putting more distance between himself and the female behind him. He needed space. Needed walls between them. Needed to remember who he was before she’d crashed into his territory and turned everything inside out.
He pushed through the door without waiting for her, crossing to the fireplace and kneeling to build up the flames. His hands moved automatically—kindling, then larger sticks, then proper logs—while his mind churned with thoughts he couldn’t escape.
