“I’m sorry,” I tell her, and I mean it more than I’ve ever meant anything. “I know that doesn’t help, and I know sorry doesn’t fix what I’ve done, but I need you to understand that I never wanted it to be like this.”
“Then how did you want it to be?” She stands from the chair, and her hands are trembling at her sides. “Did you think I’d fall into your arms and thank you for saving me? Did you think I’d be grateful that you kidnapped me and married me against my will?”
“I didn’t marry you against your will, because you said yes.”
“I said yes because a witch told me my sister would die if I didn’t. That’s not consent, Patrick. That’s coercion.”
She’s right about that, too, and I knew it even as I was begging her to trust me. I knew that whatever choice she made in that clearing, it wouldn’t be a free one. Evangeline and Maeve made sure of that with their visions and their warnings and their cryptic talk about Caelan being the glue.
I wish they had just kept that part to themselves and let me deal with the fallout if she walked away.
“You’re right,” I admit. “It wasn’t fair, and none of this has been fair to you.” I take a step toward her, then stop when I see her stiffen. “But I meant what I said before. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to use you the way Bastian wanted me to. All I want is a chance to keep you safe until we can figure out a better solution.”
“There is no better solution, and there’s no version of this where everything works out and we all live happily ever after.” She wraps her arms around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together. “The moment my sister finds out what you are, she’s going to come for you. Reeyan will come for you, too, along with Oren, Dorian, and every warrior in the allied packs. And I’m going to let them.”
I nod and reply, “I know.”
“You know?” She gawks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “That’s it? You’re just going to accept that I’m planning to get you killed?”
“If that’s what has to happen to keep you safe, then yes. I told you I’d rather die than let Thornridge hurt you, and I meant it.”
Her brows knit together, and she cocks her head to the side. Based on the look on her face, she’s not used to people meaning what they say, and I understand that better than she knows. Thornridge wolves lie as easily as we breathe, because lying is how we survive. Lying is how I survived for sixteen years, telling Mordaunt and Bastian whatever they wanted to hear while keeping my true thoughts locked away where no one could find them.
But I’m done lying to her.
“When you’re ready to listen, I’ll explain why Thornridge isn’t what you think it is. I’ll tell you about the wolves who follow Mordaunt because they’re afraid, not because they believe in his mission. I’ll tell you about my brother Jonas and the others like him who are trapped in a pack they never chose, doing things they hate because the alternative is death.” I let my words settle between us before continuing. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just asking you to hear me out before you decide I deserve to die.”
She doesn’t respond, and instead, she turns away and walks toward the bed in the corner of the cabin. She sits down on the bare mattress with her back to me.
“I’m tired, and I want to sleep. Don’t talk to me.”
I watch her curl up on the mattress and pull the thin blanket over her shoulders. She doesn’t look at me again, and she doesn’t say goodnight or acknowledge my presence in any way. She just lies there facing the wall, shutting me out.
My wolf howls inside me, desperate to go to her. Every instinct I have screams at me to cross the room, to pull her into my arms, to make her understand that I’m not the enemy she thinks I am. But I know that touching her right now would only make things worse, because she needs space and time to process everything that’s happened.
I have to give her that, even if it kills me.
I grab a spare blanket from the pack and spread it on the floor near the fireplace. The wooden boards feel hard and cold beneath me, and the blanket does little to cushion the discomfort. I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling, listening to the crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest outside.
An owl calls somewhere in the darkness while small creatures rustle through the underbrush. Wind whispers through the gaps in the cabin walls and makes the flames dance.
The mate bond pulses in my chest as a constant ache that reminds me of everything I want and can’t have. Caelan’s emotions brush against mine through our connection, and I can feel anger still burning hot inside her. The loneliness runs so deep it makes my own heart hurt.
She’s only ten feet away from me, but she might as well be on the other side of the world.
I think about what she said, about her sister coming for me and the allied packs hunting me down. Part of me knows she’s right, and part of me knows that’s probably how this ends, no matter what I do or say.
But another part of me refuses to accept that outcome. The part that recognized her as my mate the moment I saw her in that bar won’t give up, because there has to be a way to make this right. There has to be a way to prove to her that I’m not the monster she thinks I am.
I just have to figure out what that is.
Chapter 9 - Caelan
Three days of captivity, and I still haven’t found a single way to contact my sister.
I’ve searched every inch of this miserable cabin while Patrick hunts or gathers firewood or does whatever else he does to avoid being in the same room with me. On the first day, I tore through the shelves and drawers and every crack in the floorboards, hoping to find something useful. The spaces between the logs in the walls got my attention on the second day, because I thought maybe someone had hidden something there years ago. By the third day, I’d examined the pack he brought at least four more times, and still I came up empty.
There’s no phone. There are no communication crystals like the ones the allied packs use for emergencies. Not even a scrap of paper exists in this place, and even if it did, getting a note to Sera would be impossible. Tossing a letter into the wind and hoping the universe delivers it to my sister’s doorstep isn’t exactly a viable strategy. Carrier birds don’t exist outside of fantasy novels, and the magical communication methods the Hysopp witches are rumored to possess remain far beyond my reach.
