Chapter Forty-Six

Even though I have very little strength left in my body, the rush of fear-fueled adrenaline gives me just enough energy to roll off the bed, clutching my quickly swelling throat, and stumble out of his room. It’s clear he won’t listen right now; more, it becomes glaringly clear that he doesn’t deserve an explanation—he nearly choked me to death when I tried to give him one.

I follow his instructions, forcing one foot in front of another as I pass through the castle corridors, each one seeming exponentially long. The farther I go, the more my throat constricts until it’s almost like Camden’s hand is still around it, still choking the life out of me. I persevere through the agony, tilting my head to the ceiling to try to clear my airway at least a little, get myself just enough oxygen to get to my room, grab Leisel, and get us away from here. The spell and sigil the witches left me are hidden in my room; I have no option but to use them because I now understand there’s no safety for me in this castle and there never was.

After a while, I’m no longer able to stand upright on my own; the dizziness becomes too much, as does the pain, and I resolve to cling to the walls in order to keep going. It doesn’t help that the cramps in my stomach are getting worse, making nausea rise in my throat. Almost there.

When I’m just one hallway away from my room, I have the extraordinary misfortune of running into Wyatt. Well, perhaps it is a bit fortunate because I’m weak enough that even clinging to the walls is barely enough to keep me upright.

Wyatt’s striding down the end of the hall opposite me, but when he sees me, he breaks out into a run, alarm overcoming his expression. He reaches my side at the same time that a terrible coughing fit overcomes me, sending me crashing to the carpeted floor. Each cough feels like a knife scraping down my throat and burying itself in my lungs.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I cough and hack, gasping for air, desperate to get the fuck away from this monstrous place. That I ever saw a future for myself and Leisel here is incomprehensible. Faintly, I feel Wyatt’s hand on my shoulder, as well as hear him telling me to breathe, that it’ll pass. When a particularly brutal cough ends with warm liquid splattering my hands, I open my eyes, horrified to see blood on my skin and on the carpet beneath me. With great effort, I force myself to swallow several times, wincing at the metallic taste in my mouth, before taking long, deep breaths, each more agonizing than the last. If I have to crawl to my room, I will.

“What happened?” Wyatt says faintly.

I turn my head to the side, taking in his horrified expression and shirt that’s splattered with the blood I coughed up because of his psychotic older brother.

“Camden,” I manage to whisper raggedly.

Wyatt’s expression falls, and all the blood drains from his face as his eyes move to my neck, which I imagine is now bruised with the shape of the Alphas hand. His eyes flick down to my stomach and understanding seems to dawn on him as he deflates. “You lost the baby in the rogue attack.” It’s not a question but a statement.

My voice thick with both the swelling in my throat and clog of emotions, I say, “Before it could even form into a baby.” I’m only capable of whispering, but I’m furious enough with Wyatt for keeping a very fucking important piece of knowledge from me to not try to soften the blow. Everything right now makes me furious, but most of all, I am crushed at my failure to protect the life that was inside me.

“Why would Cam do this?” Wyatt asks.

“He thought I found a couple of rogues and had them dissect me for fun,” I whisper-hiss back. The idea of that is so boggling and hurtful, I don’t want to even consider it. So I pull on my rage and manage to force out, “You knew about the pregnancy and didn’t tell me.” Blood drips from my mouth and onto my hands with the words, but I’m beyond caring.

Wyatt lets out a long breath and shakes his head. “Camden is in a rage from the double loss of his father and now his child; he won’t be reasonable until he’s calmed.” After a pause, he goes on, “That fucking asshole threatened to lock me in the dungeons, away from Leisel, if I said anything. He threatened everyone else in the castle with death if they breathed a word.”

Good to know that, despite the small technicality of my being their Alpha female and Queen, nobody had the balls to oppose Camden for my benefit. Further fuel for my leaving this wretched place, as if his reaction to my miscarriage wasn’t enough.

Now that my coughing has stopped and my breathing is as calm as it’s going to be until I get healed, I once again try to push myself to a standing position, only to fail and end up tumbling face-first back to the ground. Another coughing fit overcomes me, followed by even more blood and what appears to be cartilage. It feels like my chest and throat are both on fire, slowly swelling more and more until I can barely see. Wyatt puts his hands on my shoulders, wordlessly scooping me into his arms and effortlessly standing.

“Don’t try to move. You don’t have the strength. I’ll carry you.” Wyatt’s tone brooks no argument, so I don’t argue, because he’s right; I don’t have the strength. I can barely breathe and my head is spinning so much I think I’ll pass out at any second. I let him carry me down this hall and the next. I let him open the door to my room and lay me on a bed like I’m a helpless child.

The door to the adjoining room creaks open, and I crane my neck in time to see Leisel slip through the doorway. She takes one look at me and lets out a sound of distress, running across the room to hop on my bed and climbing up next to me.

“What happened?” she cries, her tiny hands hovering above me as if afraid to touch. Tears of horror spill over her eyes and down onto her cheeks, and I can’t stop myself from reaching up to wipe them away, grimacing when I leave a smudge of my blood on her cheek.

I know I probably look like I’ve seen better days, but this reaction from my sister, who’s used to seeing me covered in scrapes, bruises, blood, and sweat from my time in the fields, means that Camden must’ve really done a number on me. I’m almost glad there are no mirrors in my room to look into.

“Can you heal her, Leisel?” Wyatt asks. “I think there might be some damage to her windpipe.”

Although she’s trembling and practically sobbing, Leisel wastes no time putting her hands on my chest. Even that small bit of contact causes a fresh burst of pain, but I force myself to hide it. I won’t alarm Leisel or scare her anymore—I feel terrible for letting her see me this way in the first place. I should be able to protect her from sights like this.

A golden glow sparks from her and travels into me, bringing with it a wave of healing warmth that shoots to my throat, chest, and stomach. After a moment, the glow subsides, and for the first time since Camden lost his mind, I draw in a breath that doesn’t hurt.

At this point, Leisel’s more worked up than I am, so I sit up and gather her in my arms, rocking her gently and stroking my hand down her back, no longer caring that I’m leaving blood on her clothes. For a moment, when Camden was strangling me, I thought I might not see her again, so the relief of holding her is overwhelming.

While I feel much better physically, there’s a strange feeling in my chest; like a chasm right in the center of it, dark and infectious. After a moment, I realize just what’s causing the uncomfortable, prickly sensation; the bond. Something’s wrong with it—I’m not sure how or why, but it feels different. Darker, weaker somehow. I try to ignore the feeling, focusing instead on the small human curled in my arms, her tears dampening my shirt. I murmur quiet reassurances to her, kissing her head every so often while holding her tight.

After several minutes, Leisel calms, although she remains latched onto me like she never intends to let go. I don’t think I’ll be ready to let go of her any time soon either.

“It’s okay,” I whisper in her ear soothingly. Though the pain is gone, the memory of it makes each word feel like sand scraping across my throat. “Everything’s okay now. You did so well healing me, sweet girl. Thank you.”

Wyatt, from his position standing at the base of the bed, says, “I’m going to go beat the shit out of my brother, hopefully knock some sense into him. Sierra, stay here for now. Once he comes out of his rage and back to himself, Cam should feel terrible, but until then…”

He trails off with a shake of his head before turning and exiting the room, closing the door behind him. I hear his unspoken words hang in the air: until then, it isn’t safe. What Wyatt doesn’t seem to understand is that there is no reality in which I’ll ever feel safe here again. I’m ready to crucify myself for giving in to any false sense of security before.

After kissing Leisel on her head, I switch from nurture mode to game mode. I almost hope Wyatt isn’t successful in calming Camden down because if the Beta is right in that once Cam calms he’ll realize the errors of his ways, that gives me a very small timeframe before he might come looking for me. He’s already shown he has no sense of common decency when it comes to me, which means I doubt he’ll be smart enough to give me space.

I believe the side I saw of Camden earlier was one of pure rage. I don’t think that was really him because I felt just how off he was in the moment, but…that side exists. Now that its existence has been revealed to me, I can’t in good conscience keep myself or my sister around. What happens the next time I do something he sees as treason? I might not live to tell the tale.

I set Leisel aside on the mattress, and tell her, “Go lock your door. Then pack a change of clothes into a bag.”

Leisel blinks, wiping the last of her tears away. “We’re leaving this place?” She sounds so hopeful; it further cements my decision.

I nod, keeping my voice low in the unlikely case that someone’s at the door listening in when I say, “We’re going to stay with the witch coven.”

Surprisingly, that perks her up a little. With a sniffle, she asks, “With Reyna?” Quietly, she adds, “I like her.”

I nod, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yes, my love, with Reyna and Odelia. They’ve offered us sanctuary away from here; offered to train us and protect us.”

Leisel nods slowly. “They’re telling the truth.”

She says the statement with such conviction, it gives me pause. “How do you know?”

She shrugs. “I just do. When people lie, they feel a little wrong. Reyna wasn’t lying when she told me she’d love to have us with her coven and that she’d protect us.”

Looks like healing might not be Leisel’s only magical ability. She might not be able to articulate it properly, but what she’s describing—someone feeling wrong—is a burst of intuitive clarity. One that just might make my little sister a living lie detector.

I nod. “So we’ll go, but we need to go now.”

Leisel’s eyes drop to my neck, and her eyes fill with tears again, even though there’s no longer any injury—just the remembrance of one.

She asks tremulously, “Did Camden do this to you?”

“He wasn’t himself,” I respond.

My response surprises both of us, but me most of all because even after he nearly fucking killed me, I’m still defending him. That causes an unprecedented level of self-disgust to well up within me and also tells me that our bond is now a dangerous thing, even in it’s oddly damaged state. If it can get me to make verbal excuses for Camden after what he did…

Granted, I know he wasn’t himself, I pushed him when he was already grieving, but he absolutely deserved it. There are no excuses to be made for his behavior.

“Get your things, sweet girl,” I tell Leisel. “We need to go now before anyone comes looking for us.”