Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

My stomach churned and sweat beaded my forehead as I stood within Fane's nightmare. Was this how he saw mine? Was he an invisible bystander watching my horrible memories unfold?

This wasn't one of his memories, though. He'd killed me. And instead of rejoicing in my death, he mourned.

Fane's beast trembled, and moments later, he stood in his human form, blood covering his mouth and running down his neck and bare chest. My blood. He frantically shook his head at the sight of my corpse.

"No, no, no, no." He raked his shaking hands through his hair, his eyes wild and unfocused. "I-I didn't mean it." His knees gave out, and he collapsed to the ground at my side.

Invisible claws tore at my insides as Fane grabbed my body and cradled me against him, rocking back and forth. The agony in his expression punched me right in the gut and ripped the air from my lungs.

"I'm sorry, Tate. I'm so sorry." Fane rested his hand over the wounds in my throat, trying to heal me like he took away my pain. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Please come back. Please . I need you."

I couldn't watch this. My heart was being torn to pieces. His agony flowed through our link, and it was so debilitating the forest spun around me. I walked closer, drawn to him as the urge to take his emotional distress drowned me.

I could take it all away. I could make him feel better.

My hand reached out, landing on his shoulder, but before I could draw his pain into me, his head jerked in my direction.

"Tate?" He studied me and then the dead version in his arms, tears streaking his face. "I killed you."

He could see me.

I slowly lowered next to him. "I'm not dead, Fane. You're dreaming."

His brows pulled together as he tried to make sense of the scene. "I didn't want to kill you. It just happened. I couldn't stop. You were there, and then you were on the ground." His arms tightened around my dead form, his muscles quivering. "And now you're gone."

Invisible knives drove through my heart. Fane didn't remember our time together, and the desire to kill me filled his veins, but he didn't want to do it, even knowing I ended his brother.

"It's just a nightmare." I stroked his damp cheek. "It's not real."

"It's not real?" he asked in a broken whisper.

And then his eyes suddenly darkened, and sharp edges cut into his expression as the realization hit him. "Get out of my head."

The fury in his words had me frozen to the spot. "I didn't mean?— "

Fane snatched my wrist and then shoved me away, my back hitting the cold, bloody ground. "Get out!"

My eyelids popped open to our room in Silver Ridge, my heart pounding and limbs shaking. Moments later, Fane bolted up beside me. Our ragged breaths echoed as tension choked the air.

Only two days had passed since I almost died in Rosewood Cemetery. The wound in my torso wasn't quite healed yet, and Fane had barely left my side. He'd even slept next to me, something he probably regretted right now.

The demon shifter's head slowly swiveled in my direction, his pupils in black slits. "Stay out of my fucking head." Venom laced every syllable, threatening to poison me.

But the jerk didn't get to be mad when he did the same thing.

"I didn't do it on purpose," I snapped, slowly sitting up to avoid the pain in my healing wound. "It just happened."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again."

A bitter laugh slipped out. "You do it to me. And on purpose sometimes." When his mouth opened, I stabbed my finger into his bare chest. "Don't even try to deny it, Maverick."

He snatched my hand, his nostrils flaring. "This is different."

"Why? Because you finally have to admit that you don't want to kill me at all?"

Fane ripped the covers off and stood. Ebony strands of hair were wild around his face, and his mismatched irises glowed through the shadows. "I don't have to admit shit, Teague. Despite what you saw, I do want to kill you. In fact, I'm thinking about it right now."

"Bullshit." I threw the covers off and stood, hissing as a sharp pain ripped into my torso.

He was suddenly next to me, his hand on my side as he took my pain like it was becoming a reflex. Once he realized what he was doing, he jerked away.

"Nothing you saw in my head was real." His low voice held a warning that would make most cower in fear. "It was a nightmare, remember? And the nightmare part wasn't you dying. It was me being upset by it."

He stormed out of the room, leaving me to feel the sting of his hurtful words, but he didn't mean them. Fane would be devastated if I died. What other reason would he have to protect me and remain by my side all this time? He was only lying to himself and barely believed his own bullshit anymore.

I paced the room while contemplating chasing him and demanding he stop pretending. He needed to face reality and his feelings for me. We'd been through this before. Of course, a spell wasn't involved, but we'd struggled with hating each other for a long time. We could overcome all of that again.

Rustling paper caught my attention, and I turned toward the door as a small note slid beneath the crack. I hurried across the room, yanked the knob, and peered into an empty hall.

Who the hell was slipping me notes?

I gingerly bent and retrieved it, opening the small piece of paper.

Archives. The last shelf in the back. Bottom row. Look for the signs. Find the welcome scroll.

What the hell was a welcome scroll?

I yanked one of Fane's hoodies off the chair in the corner and shoved it over my head before tiptoeing into the hall. The house was silent at two in the morning while most shifters were sleeping. Knowing the path well, it only took me a few minutes to make it to the archives.

My nose scrunched against the scent of dust as I stepped inside, turned on the light, and closed the door. After taking a few turns in the cramped space, I came to the last bookshelf and kneeled. The tattered books looked like they hadn't been touched in decades. My pulse shot through the roof when my gaze fell on the tree symbol embossed on one.

This had to be it.

I pulled the heavy tome out, opened it, and uncovered a hidden compartment full of little scrolls. Each blot of scarlet wax sealing them was stamped with that damn tree symbol. My heart thundered as my fingers rolled over them, searching for the welcome one.

How the hell was I was supposed to find the right one? Would I have to break every damn seal open and read them?

As I brought one of the scrolls closer, faint letters on the paper came into focus. Rules & Regulations . At least there was some kind of titling system to give a hint. I tossed that one back and rummaged through the others until finally locating one labeled Welcome , the words nearly the same color as the yellowed paper.

My hands shook as I broke the seal and unrolled the parchment paper, revealing the symbol stamped across the top with ornate writing below.

Welcome to The Collective Hunt. You have been chosen to join our ranks. It is our mission to cleanse the stain from our bloodlines.

If you've received this message and can see this symbol, your blood or that of a direct predecessor has been added to our compendium.

Congratulations on your prestigious status.

What the actual hell…? My blood certainly hadn't been added to any fucking compendium. Was it part of some spell that allowed only members to view any hidden symbols? The bartender and Coltrane saw the symbols I drew, but Fane didn't see the one on Barric's painting nor did Ruin and Logan see the one in the book .

As I reread the words, my fingers went numb, and the color drained from my face. I didn't add my blood to any collection, but it also said a direct predecessor… as in parents.

My parents .

I fell on my ass, scattering the scrolls across the floor. Ghostly fingertips raked up and down my spine as the small space tilted. My parents must have been part of The Collective. And when they had me, a human child, they used magic to hide me for fear I'd be slaughtered.

Fane was right. It wasn't just the distant threat of these assholes. My parents were in it, and they wouldn't have been able to keep me a secret if I'd stayed with them. So they hid me, tossed me out in the world to keep me safe.

And that meant that they loved me despite me being human.

My heart clenched at the realization of having a family who cared enough to protect me. Would they be happy if I found them? Were they still part of this Collective bullshit, or had they wised up and stopped being prejudiced dicks?

A creak echoed, and a heavy presence suddenly engulfed the room.

Someone was coming.

Tremors shook my hands as I scrambled to grab the scrolls and cram them back into the book. As I shoved it back onto the shelf, alpha power descended over my back, and I nearly puked.

"What are you doing, Tate?"

I shot to my feet and spun, ignoring the flare of pain in my torso as Barric loomed over me. "Oh, uh, nothing." My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat, ramming my shaky hands into the hoodie pockets. "I couldn't sleep, so I was just wandering around in here."

Could he see or smell the sweat collecting on my forehead?

"I see." Barric's brow furrowed as his gaze flickered between me and the bookshelf. He wore a green t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his russet hair ruffled from sleep. "Did you find anything interesting in the archives? Besides learning that human offspring born from shifters often expire?"

Interesting? Like realizing my parents were in this secret society of douchebags, and he most likely was too. What other reason would that symbol be secretly marked on his painting and his desk? Why would he keep these unopened scrolls in his archives? He was the freaking head alpha. Nothing went on in his pack without his knowledge.

"Not really," I lied. Something touched my heel, and seconds later, one of the scrolls I'd left out rolled across the floor, bouncing on Barric's bare foot.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.