Epilogue

WHO IS FLOR WILLS? ~ LUKE

M y thoughts were knives, slicing into my brain if I tried to focus on where I was, who I was. Who was near me.

I drew in a shallow breath, aware that I hadn't taken one in a while. My heart beat sluggishly, long moments between the weak thuds.

The scents that I drew into my lungs were acrid and vile. Herbal smoke and rancid meat. Death and decay.

Evil so strong, I tasted it in my mouth. It burned its way into my center, prying at the only thing I had left.

The only good thing.

The world I lived in now was made of pain, of loss. She had been gone for so long, the memory of her scent was all I had.

Cinnamon and jasmine.

Passion and innocence.

Fire and flowers.

I clung to the memory of her perfume in the darkness, sought it with my fevered mind. There were voices all around making demands, but none of them were hers, so I did not listen, did not answer.

Still, the harsh hands on my skin never stopped prodding, cutting, tearing.

And the voices never stopped asking their questions. "Who is Flor Wills? What did she do to you? Why are you sick?"

"Is she your mate? Is she a shifter? Is she a witch?"

"Have you seen the black wolf? Do you know who he is? Who is he to Flor Wills?"

"Who killed the Enforcers?"

"Do you know how to find him, to find her?"

The voices pretended they were friends, they were doctors, they were pack. But I knew they were hunting her. Hunting my heart.

And I would never help them catch her.

But then a new voice began asking questions, a voice with edges sharp as silver nails, jagged as shattered glass, that forced answers from my lips. An Alpha, whose power easily overcame my reluctance and my silence, tearing past the remaining defenses I had built in my mind.

An Alpha I had never met, with a feminine, snakelike command.

"Who is Flor Wills? Tell me now."

She is my heart.

"What did she do to you? Why are you dying? Answer."

Nothing. Everything. Stole.

"Stole what?"

My heart.

"Is she your mate?"

She is… my heart.

A long silence stretched out, and my limbs grew cold, heavy. The darkness grew thicker, like a suffocating blanket. Then, an icy needle plunged into me, and my heart began to beat again. The pain increased.

" Is she a witch? Does she have magic?"

I heard laughter then. My own laughter, weak and strained. Yes.

I let myself remember her fiery eyes, her snarl, her determination. Her fight. Her soft, sweet lips on mine. That single kiss had been so full of magic, it had kept me alive for weeks. Months? I'd lost track of time.

"Does she have magic? Tell me now."

Yes, she has magic.

The voice hissed with pleasure, and I knew I'd said too much.

"Good. She'll come for you." The words cut into me, tainting my blood, wrapping me in dark, poisoned fire, moving through my veins, freezing me in place. "And then she will be ours."

I fought to rise, to wake, to warn her. But I was tied down with tendrils of dark magic, wrapped in a shroud of agony.

I had betrayed her again. My Flor, my fighter. Even in death, I was unworthy of her love. The pain swamped me, drowned me, tore out my soul.

Finally, I did the only thing I could to protect her, my heart. I used the last of my energy, summoned my wolf, and gave him his freedom to run into the darkness, away from the pain.

And let my own heart stop.

Thank you for reading!