"That's how they ended up with a wolf being raised as a witch."
I bite my bottom lip, swallowing that revelation.
"It's possible. But we don't know. We don't want to deliver a false narrative to our mate. It's only a theory—one with a sound basis—but conjecture nonetheless." Diaval walks away from the house. "They should be back soon. We will do whatever Feray wants. Whatever she needs us to be, we will be it."
He walks off with Easton on his shoulder.
For being a grumpy bastard, this is the most selfless thing I've seen the ancient do.
I stare backat the skull and wonder which of her parents it belongs to.
The bone is old, yellowed. It's been here for years. Decades, maybe. Waiting for someone to find it. Waiting for Feray to come home.
Shaking my head, I walk back toward where we set up camp. My stomach is in knots thinking about what this discovery is going to do to our mate.
I ponder what I can do to lessen the impact of finding at least one skeleton.
There's no right answer. I've run through every scenario in my head. They all end with my mate in tears—either a mess or on a rampage.
Neither will be pleasant to deal with. One will be more manageable than the other.
But when she breaks—and she will break—I'll be there to hold her together.
That's all I can do. That's all any of us can do.
Be the strength she needs when her own runs out.
Chapter 35
Feray
Ridingon the back of my mate's basilisk is an exhilarating experience. The rush of wind against my face and the rhythmic sound of his scales moving through the leaves is soothing. His giant creature navigates effortlessly through the dense forest, using its colossal tail to push off trees.
Yet beneath the surface of this momentary liberation, a disquieting undercurrent tugs at my senses.
Deep in the pit of my stomach, a persistent unease lingers. Something is amiss with Torben. His usually steadfast demeanor is marred by a subtle tension, a silent burden he carries. The unspoken weight of his emotions hangs in the bond, and my mind races to decipher the cause.
He's grappling with something. The ominous possibilities play out in my mind, sending a chill up my spine.
As Khal glides through the forest, my thoughts spiral into the worst-case scenario. Maybe they stumbled upon something unsettling while I was away. Fear creeps in, and I can't help butentertain the darkest possibility—that my parents, for reasons unknown, simply didn't want me.
The prospect lingers like a shadow.
If they gave me away, why not to another wolf family? Giving me to Fi's family doesn't make sense, unless the needing-to-hide-me angle is true.
Maybe it's not that they didn't want me. Maybe it was for my safety.
Lost in my thoughts, I become a passive observer during the hunt. Khal's efficient strike, using his tail spike to kill a deer, barely registers. The emotional turbulence within me has eclipsed the primal instincts required for the hunt.
Our time in the forest is usually more enjoyable, but this time it doesn't distract me the way it usually does.
Torben is a maelstrom of emotions. Diaval has almost shut the bond down to the point I barely feel him. Easton is focused on being hungry, not letting anything else infiltrate his thoughts.
They definitely found something, and they don't know how to tell me.
The hunt that was supposed to be freeing has taken a dark turn. Torben's concern is growing, other warring emotions churning within him. Unlike Easton and Diaval, he's not practiced in shutting down his emotions.
It feels like a massive storm churning in his chest. Like he's one step away from losing it all.
