I want to tell her I hate that question, that I hate being in charge, that I never wanted this, that I’m fully incapable of figuring this fucking mess out.
“I don’t know,” I admit. It’s the only answer I have.
She nods, and it somehow feels like the perfect response. There is nothing else to say, but a grim, silent acceptance of the facts.
Holly and Luca return just as the snow begins to fall. “No sign of them,” Luca huffs, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the kitchen walls.
I’m in the kitchen eating with Asmo and Cally. She flinches at the sound, tea spilling over the rim of her mug. Asmo sets his bowl down and pokes his head into the living room. “Looking for me?” he asks, devilish smile on his face.
“Where is she?” Luca responds, voice low and threatening.
What is it with these males?
“I’m here and I’m unharmed,” I call from the kitchen. “We got caught up, but we’re fine.”
Holly comes around the corner, a smile forming as she sees me. Luca gives me a quick once-over, then nods curtly and turns back toward the living room. We all settle into our usual seats in the living room while Cally remains in the kitchen.
Asmo lights a fire in the small hearth. The crackling of the kindle does something to my soul, calming it in a way that I didn’t knowI needed.
Ivan catches Holly and Luca up on our failure of a visit to House Ursidae. “We’ll be visiting Panthera in a few days to speak with Prince Koa,” he says.
Luca grimaces. “We have a problem.”
Dread twists in my gut. “What?” I ask.
“I’m not so sure that Panthera will be willing to help us,” he says as he shifts in his chair. “They’ve begun publicly executing witch dissenters.”
My blood runs cold, and the fire stutters in the hearth. “Witch dissenters?” I ask. “As in, people who disagree with the witches?”
Luca’s answering nod is grim. A shudder works its way through me, the slow crawl of horror. I close my eyes, as if that will do anything to stop it.
“No,” I say. “They wouldn’t do that. Theycan’tdo that. Koa would never agree to it.”
Ivan’s face is as white as the snow falling outside. Holly stands against the wall, silently bobbing her head. Asmo’s thigh is rigid against mine. Cally stares at us all in mute horror, frozen in the kitchen, still clutching her mug.
“Koa may not be doing this, but his parents are nearly as ruthless as mine,” Asmo mutters. “Fuck. There’s no way they’ll agree to help us if they’re already in bed with Marik.”
I shake my head. “Forget that for now. When did this start? Why is nobody stopping this?” My voice is a weird mix of desperation and disgust.
“We visited Beckinsdale this morning, hoping to glean some information about your whereabouts,” Luca says with a pointed glare. “Instead, we found a female cougar hybrid hanging in the town square. She was the second execution in two days, according to a local shopkeeper. The next one will be tomorrow at sunrise.”
Bile surges upward, and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t hear about bodies hanging, about innocent hybrids being slaughtered, about prisoners left emaciated and children being thrown into dungeons. The door bangs shut behind me. I storm into the forest, thick snowflakes falling like ashes all around me. The soft thud of footsteps follows closebehind. I don’t have to turn to know it’s Asmo. I have always known when he’s near.
I face him. White snowflakes rest on his raven hair, his rosy cheeks. His hands are shoved into his pockets and his shoulders are hunched.
And I can’t stand it. I can’t fucking stand it.
I close my eyes, ball my hands into fists, and scream. Birds take flight, their answering calls shrill as they cut through the night. Do they scream, too, for what we have become?
I scream until my face is red and I’m hunched over and gasping for air and all I can think about is the roaring in my head.
Asmo pulls me into his arms. The ball of panic inside my chest begins to calm. The roaring quiets.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I whisper into his chest.
“Why do you think you’re alone in figuring this out?” His voice is low.
I pull back, but he’s staring at the line of trees, his gaze distant, glassy.
