“You can hear her,” I state. “Like, completely hear her thoughts.”
Prior to Kylie, Rook had been able to read minds, but he had to have permission from the person before being able to get inside their head. And it also wasn’t that reliable. But right now, it feels like he and Kylie are having a full-blown conversation that no one can hear but them.
“Yes,” Rook admits. “And she can hear mine.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter. “Fated mates is fucking crazy.”
“I don’t know because I haven’t experienced it yet.” Cal sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “But I’m a little worried if I dofind my fated mate anytime soon, our ship is going to be sailing through some pretty rough waters.”
I laugh and walk over to offer Cal a friendly slap to his shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe your fated mate won’t beblood of the three. Maybe she’ll just be a random girl you meet in the grocery store or some shit.”
The thought lands heavier than the joke.
“This is when it would be nice to know who the fuck our parents are,” Cal mutters. “At least then we’d have a little more info on how we were brought into this world and who our father is.”
Rook’s jaw tightens slightly. “We’ll never fucking know that, Cal,” he says flatly. “So don’t waste time on it.”
He’s right. We don’t know. We were dropped into foster care before we could remember anything.
“Well, we do know one thing—the elites are going to retaliate,” Cal comments. “It’s only a matter of time.”
Neither Rook nor I say anything, but it’s because there’s nothing else to say.
We’re all fucking in at this point.
Upstairs, Blair shifts in her sleep, and I feel it immediately.
The pull. The certainty.The bond.
I know without question why I took her.
And just like Rook said—there’s no going back now.
Blair
I wake up to silence, but unfortunately for me, it’s not the curated silence of a penthouse sixty floors above New York traffic.
This silence is dense and thick and feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.
For a moment, I lie still, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember why it looks wrong.
But it doesn’t take long for the endless view of wood to bring me back to reality. Dark beams stretching overhead like something out of a wilderness catalog. The faint scent of pine lingers in the air.
I’m in acabin,like someLittle House on the Prairiebullshit.I sit up and look out the window, and instantly, I’m hit with the sight of trees because I’m in the freaking forest.
Gross.
My chest tightens as a memory floods back—his hands, his body, the kiss.
That kiss.
No.I shove that thought away immediately.I willnotromanticize kissing my freaking kidnapper.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and my bare feet hit the floor. It’s cold. “No heated floors?” I mutter to myself. “How do people live like this?”
The walls, the dresser, and the ceiling are all wood. There is no marble or travertine to be seen, and the finishes are cheap, like someone DIY-ed this cabin themselves.
“This is barbaric.”
