Page 20 of The Shadow Sanctum

Five letters written with precision that must’ve taken her time to get each curve just right. For all the care she took writing, she could’ve said more. Or at least made sense.

Better yet, woken me up.

I ball the note up and toss it to the floor with a scoff. But just as I reach for the burrito—the first bit of real food I’ve been granted since Zephyr—an image flashes through my mind that makes my stomach lurch.

Liberty… Ripped clothes… Tear-stained face.

Angel is a patient man, but if he learns what the Sanctum did to his wife, even he will become unpredictable. Him and Luna, alone in the Keep, two rooms away…

I abandon the food, throw on my clothes, and am out the door in less than a minute.

CHAPTER 8

LUNA

My eyes feel strange.

Swollen and itchy. The urge to rub them is nearly constant, but I refrain while Thorne wears out his bedroom floor. His mouth has hardly stopped moving since I arrived, though I’ve maybe picked up on half of what he’s said.

Above the sink in his room is a black curtain that shields a mirror. Perched on the edge of the bed, I stare at it and let my mind go back to the day I found it covered for the first time. We said nothing of it; only a look was exchanged, and it was that day that I believed I almost loved him.

How strange would it be if I asked him to raise the curtain, just this once? Just so I could examine if my eyes are as red and irritated as they feel?

They must not be because he hasn’t commented on them. Then again, judging by the monologue rolling off his lips, I don’t think he’s thinking of anything but himself.

“My loyalty is to you. And only you. I will never forget that again. You believe me, don’t you, my love?”

He’s called me my love six times during this conversation.

“Luna, please.” He closes the two feet of distance between us and drops to his knees, his hands clasping together as he takes on a begging position. “Please, tell me you can forgive me. Please.”

His forearms rest like heavy rocks on my knees, nervous sweat gleaming on his forehead. I do not move, nor do I allow my lip to curl. When my arms lift to cross over my chest, I press them into my side.

Thorne messed up. He did.

He chose to honor my father’s wishes over my own. His betrayal cost Alaric his life, caused pain to two women who didn’t deserve it, and fractured the respect our people have for me.

He made me look weak.

But… It isn’t his fault that every inch of my skin feels dirty and used. That my head is so distracted, I can barely concentrate on his words. That I’m overstimulated, tired, and mentally exhausted.

So I don’t cringe. I don’t pull away.

I frown, forcing my hand to run through his short hair. “I already forgive you, Thorne. It isn’t my heart that’s broken. It’s my trust.”

His bottom lip puckers as he swallows, his eyes creasing like he’s in physical pain. “Tell me what I have to do to earn it back.”

He sounds so desperate. So panicked. Like one day of my love withheld has ripped him to shreds.

He would feel differently if he knew how I behaved last night.

I stand as my throat thickens and push the memory from my mind. Try to, at least. Cupping my wrist, I wander to the mirror. “Be patient… I know how manipulative my father can be. Now that he’s succeeded once, he’ll try again, eventually. When that time comes, resist. Trust me to protect you from him.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

I turn back to find sincerity in his sweet, chocolate eyes as he stands, his posture almost defensive.

I believe him. It wasn’t fear that made him betray me… It was stupidity.