If I kill him, am I not the same as him, killing a family member for the sake of that power?
Does the element of vengeance change the nature of my intentions, even though the outcome is the same?
Can the thin line of justice make me different than him?
“I don’t know,” I whisper, answering perhaps more honestly than I should. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
All she does is give me a quiet nod. “You’re angry.”
Yes. I am.
Again, I speak my thoughts truthfully, even though I can’t be sure it’s in my best interests not to lie. “I’m filled with rage. Deep, terrible rage. I want him toburn.” My throat squeezes again with the fury I’ve been keeping caged, but I gasp for breath, forcing myself to continue. “I want vengeance for my mother’s life. I want justice for the years that were stolen from me. I want him to feel the pain I’ve felt.”
Much of that won’t make sense to this woman since she doesn’t know my history, doesn’t know that my mother died in a dark prison or that I was kept there for most of my life. But it’s the best I can do.
My snarls fade into the silence around me and, when the woman remains quiet, an emptiness fills my chest, growing greater the longer she considers me without any kind of judgement in her eyes.
“But he will never feel what I’ve felt,” I say. “Because he doesn’t love anyone. He can never feel the pain that comes with that kind of loss.”
She leans back and folds her hands in her lap. “You’re a creature of darkness,” she says again. “Yet you speak of love and loss.”
“Dark creaturesfeel,” I snap. “We feel more than most other creatures. It’s our feelings that turn us to the dark in the first place.”
“Some, yes,” she says. “But others are born into it and they are the darkest of all. They are the most dangerous because they know nothing else, and it was never a choice they made for themselves.”
“Just as a creature of light will always believe their actions are righteous, simply because that’s the magic they control,” I counter. “It doesn’t make it so.”
She tips her head in a small, acknowledging nod. “True.”
I wait for her to continue, finding myself holding my breath, but it doesn’t do me any favors. My pain is returning in full force now, and the ache in my leg is threatening to jumble my thoughts. The bone had started to knit before, but it’s nowhere near fully healed.
I don’t want to wait for her decision any longer. “Will you let me live?”
She meets my eyes. “You are a dangerous,woundedbeing, which makes you even more of a threat than the man who stands at your side.” Her lips press together, forming an unhappy line. “Your wounds are not only physical. In fact, it’s the invisible wounds, the emotional scars, I sense in you that worry me the most. Every instinct in my body is telling me to end you right here, right now, and yet…”
She glances back at her son.
He has stayed in the background, quietly watching over his sister. The male wolf turns its head in unison with the boy’s as he returns his mother’s gaze.
She continues. “And yet my son believes you need to live.” The corners of her mouth dart up as her focus shifts past him to the shadows beneath the far trees. “As does my mate.”
I startle. My gaze flashes to the trees.
Her mate?
If there’s someone else here, I can’t see or smell them, but again, my senses are dulled. Even though my pain is returning, which means the illusion is wearing off, I can’t unjumble much of the sensory input around me.
I take my cue from Diavolo, who has stiffened. The tension in his shoulders and the way he’s suddenly studying the trees tells me he can’t see whatever mate she’s referring to. His features once again morph, giving him a wolf’s ears and a bear’s nose. He tilts his head and inhales deeply at the same time.
His eyes widen.
Which is my cue to worry.
Then he glowers, as if he’s annoyed at himself.
Which is my cue to stop worrying. Well, maybeas much.
Anarchy, too, has lifted her nose to the air and is making soft, hissing sounds, hunching low to the ground before she becomes very subdued. It may be the most subservient body language I’ve ever seen her exhibit. She certainly didn’t sink as low when she met me for the first time.
