“Zeus is responsible,” Ravi says. I cover my mouth to quiet my gasp. Alden left out that part of the story. “Zeus and his father had their eyes on Corona long before the king fell ill.They watched as your father and brother died, and when you disappeared for a year, only to return after President Sinclair’s death without claiming the throne, they sensed weakness.”
Shouts erupt outside the tent. Ravi brings a finger to his lips, then cautiously opens the tent flap just a crack. I hold my breath as he peers outside. Satisfied to find nothing, he lets the flap fall back into place, then resumes his position on the cot before me.
“Zeus urged Alden to make a move on Corona, claiming it was their father’s dying wish to expand their territory. But Alden, wrapped up in love with the gentle Tanith, refused to leave her to go to war. Enraged, Zeus lured Tanith into the woods and had her ambushed by rogue vampires to remind Alden of his place.”
I shake my head, horrified. “Did they . . .”
“They didn’t kill her, but they turned her into a vampire,” Ravi states, his voice tinged with regret. “Unfortunately, werewolf DNA rejects the vampire gene. They don’t maintain an ounce of humanity. Tanith might as well be dead. Zeus convinced Alden that Vyvyan was to blame, since the vampires who attacked Tanith slipped from her control. Alden came to Borealis to find Vyvyan and enact his revenge.”
Chills erupt through my body, goose bumps prickling my skin. I think of that first night at Little Death. Alden claimed he had gotten lost in the tunnels, but now, I see it was a lie. He was scouting for Vyvyan.
“But if Zeus is the one who set the vampires on her, why wouldn’t Alden blame him?” I ask.
“He doesn’t know,” Ravi says simply. “Zeus threatened to kill Sama if I told him.”
“We need to tell Alden the truth.” My mind drifts toward the cure, hope fluttering in my chest. Chiara received the funding she needed to continue her research. If I asked for a favor, could she expedite her research?
“The truth won’t change that Tanith is a vampire. She might as well be dead.”
“What if there is a way to change that?”
If I can convince Alden that there’s a way to save Tanith and prove to him that Zeus is the one to blame for her attack, then we might avoid war altogether.
“Where’s Alden now?” I ask.
“Sleeping,” Ravi says, though the sun has barely set. “It was a long journey.”
“I have an idea.”
Like an invisible lasso tied around my waist, a sudden tug yanks my spirit back to my body before I finish. I gasp as if taking my first breath, finding myself back inside Wilder’s room.
“Leigh.” Wilder hauls me into his arms, sagging against the bed, and drawing me down with him as if terrified to let me go. My heart clenches at the intensity of his care, so different from the emptiness in his eyes when he looked at me back at Furies.
He expels an audible breath before adding, “I couldn’t wake you, and . . . fuck, I feared the worst.”
I clutch him back, wanting to soothe the lines above his brow. He didn’t lose me; I am still here, and if he still wants me, I will tell him everything. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” But I am not sorry I did it.
“Where did you go?” Wilder asks.
I pull away from Wilder’s embrace and notice we aren’t alone.
As the moon settles overhead,I kneel in the frozen dirt. Winter rain falls like a cascade of tears around me. The scent of damp soil and dry grass fills my nostrils. Before me, the inscription etched into my headstone reads: “Desiree Dunn, beloved daughter, sister, and gifted healer, taken from us too soon until we meet again.”
The words blur as tears well up in my eyes, their weight bearing on me. Would all this be easier to stomach if I had indeed died? Maybe it would be better if I were dead-dead now.
No one would miss me. Wilder is busy with Leigh. Jaxson is finally living his life. My death would hurt him, but after what happened outside Mom’s house, it wouldn’t haunt him like before. Mom would pour her grief into her research, incurring more of Vyvyan’s wrath. Vane—wherever he is—would be free of me.
I fist the muddy grass, and the icy rain intensifies as if punishing me. Tilting my head back, I allow it to wash over me, cooling the hot tears streaming down my cheeks.
Suddenly, the onslaught stops. My eyes flutter open, and I find myself beneath a large, batwing-style umbrella. The umbrella’s cane rests in the hands of a man dressed in black standing opposite my headstone.
“Vane,” I whisper. He doesn’t smile as the rain dampens his hair and clothes. I struggle to swallow. “How are you here?”
“Someone has to keep you dry,” he murmurs.
More tears spill down my cheeks. I never expectedhimto be the one showing up for me in this, my darkest hour, especially after how I pushed him away. Suddenly, Vane crouches before me in the mud, heedless of his fine clothes. The umbrella becomes a shield, blotting out the world.
I meet his red eyes, which are so warm I melt inside. “Why did you come back? You shouldn’t have—” Another sob breaks free. I’m not worth his concern or pity.
