35. Thirty-Five

thirty-five

A nders had promised to text once he spoke to Frann. That left us with little to do but wait and wonder about the horrors Finneus was inflicting on our loved ones. We tried movies and television, but nothing held our interest.

I personally needed to do something. To channel my anxieties and frustrations into something productive. Otherwise, I would drive myself mad. The sewing machine kept catching my eye. Evera noticed long before she decided to comment.

“You do need a dress for the ceremony,” she pointed out.

“You want me to sew a wedding dress by tomorrow?” I shook my head. “Even I don’t have that much manic energy or fabric.”

She gestured to the closet. “You have a ton of material. You’re not going to wear any of them again, and they’re just collecting dust.”

Did I want to make a patchwork gown? Not really, not for a faux ceremony.

“I’m sure Finneus has something I’m supposed to wear,” I said.

Evera rolled her eyes. “Don’t seem too accommodating, he’ll get suspicious.”

She made a good point. My eyes darted between the closet and the sewing machine.

“It’s been too long. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I argued.

“So? Who cares? It’s something to do. Your gloomy Penn vibes are depressing me more, which is saying something.” She jutted out her bottom lip. “Come on. Please. If it’s hideous, like you said, Finneus probably has a gown for you.”

The look on my face was enough for Evera to start pulling old dresses from their hangers and tossing them on the floor. There was a lot of tulle, like a lot , a full gown made of lace, and four ball gowns in various shades of green.

We debated the basic design of the gown briefly before agreeing which elements we’d pull from each dress. Then we spent the next twenty minutes rummaging through drawers and plastic containers until we found thread and a new needle for the sewing machine. There were fabric scissors in the box with the other items, but Evera seemed to enjoy slicing the seams open with her claws.

Admittedly, it was cathartic.

Time passed as we tried different arrangements of fabric strips in a dress pattern on the floor. Malia delivered a tray of food at some point. She peered at our arts-and-crafts project with a small smile but didn’t comment. Evera and I didn’t speak much. There really wasn’t anything to say.

Come tomorrow evening, either I would succeed, and Finneus would be dead, or I would fail and my life would end. He wouldn’t let me escape death this time. My bigger concern was that my failure had consequences for people besides me. What would happen to Evera, to Grace, to Penn, if I didn’t take down Finneus?

Failure is not an option.

I’d never had my back against a wall like this. The pressure was suffocating. So many people depended on my success, I wanted to crumple beneath the weight of expectation. Gaia, even if I pulled this off, I wasn’t strong enough to lead the pack.

I didn’t share my burdens with Evera; I didn’t need to. She seemed to understand and kept drawing my focus back to our sewing project as a distraction. She really was the best.

The flip phone was in my pocket, set to vibrate, and I checked the messages every hour only to be disappointed. Why wasn’t Anders texting? Had something happened? Had the strays caught him going out to the Widows’ Den?

I internalized my worries, not wanting to stress Evera more than already was. There were probably plenty of valid, benign reasons Anders hadn’t reported in, or so I told myself.

We worked long into the night and the wee hours of the next morning, neither of us touching the dinner the caster had brought. I didn’t think she or Finneus would poison me, but I didn’t trust that Malia wouldn’t add something extra.

By the time we finished stitching all the pieces together, my fingers ached and my head throbbed. Evera was cross-eyed and had little dots of blood all over her jeans from where she’d pricked herself hand-sewing. But we had a gown. A Frankenstein-like creation that I was strangely proud of. We had made it ourselves, with our own hands.

Exhausted and spent, we laid side by side in my old bed and stared up at the glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling showing the phases of the moon. That was when I finally told Evera what happened in my dreams—from my time as Diana in the Warrior Games, to my short life as the child who fell through the ice.

“Do you think they’re all true?” she asked when I finished.

“If one is a memory, isn’t it likely they all are?” I countered.

“Good point,” she conceded, rolling onto her side to face me. “Then I say your chances tomorrow are pretty high. I mean, Diana must’ve been a badass to win that competition, right? Desmona sounds strong-willed. And whoever turned her brother over to the Zodiac Council—she was very brave. You’re like all of them rolled into you.”

I laughed. “I don’t feel particularly brave or badass or even stubborn.”

She squeezed my hand. “But you are all those things. You need to believe, and then so will everyone else. You weren’t just born to lead, you were literally created for it.” She grinned. “Besides, fate is on your side.”

Was it? It didn’t feel that way. If anything, it felt like I was playing against a stacked deck.

I must’ve nodded off at some point, because I woke with a start when someone knocked on the door. Malia entered the room and flipped on the light switch. Evera groaned loudly and swatted the air.

The caster held a fresh tray of food, seeming amused as she set it down beside the untouched plates from the night before. The Frankenstein gown caught her eye, and she walked over to examine the dress hanging on the back of the closet door. Her head bobbed up and down in approval.

“Lovely,” she said, though her tone made it difficult to discern if she meant it in a nice way.

“Will Finneus be by to see me today?” I asked.

She spun and made an exaggerated shocked face. “Hoping to do the deed without an audience? You won’t make it out of here alive.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I want to see Penn before the ceremony.”

Malia nodded. “Yes. I had expected you might.”

“Is that something you can arrange, or do I need to ask Finneus?” I demanded, too tired to be polite.

She studied me for a long, uncomfortable moment. “The alpha would not allow it. I can get you five minutes.” One finger shot up in warning. “Don’t ask me for further favors. It is not my job to interfere, only to oversee.”

Malia’s mere presence had thrown our pack into upheaval. She’d siphoned magic off our wolves to feed her dark nature. I wanted to know how she thought that wasn’t interfering, but I also really wanted to see Penn.

“No.” Evera sat up and yawned. “Drake, you can’t go anywhere alone with her.”

“I have no wish to harm our dear Drake,” Malia replied.

“Really?” Evera was on her feet. “That’s not what it looked like when you stole her fucking magic. You almost killed her.”

For the first time in our short acquaintance, the caster lost her aura of confidence. Is it possible she feels bad about what she did? The thought was almost laughable. She’d inflicted pain and suffering with too much ease to have empathy, let alone a guilty conscience.

“How did you recover so quickly?” Malia asked me.

“Must be my ancient soul,” I said, managing to keep my voice even.

“Must be,” she agreed, though it was clear she had her doubts. “Well, if you would like to see Penn, now is the time. Finneus is out hunting for tonight’s feast. They left at daybreak, so I expect him back soon.”

How long had I slept?

“Ew. Why?” Evera wrinkled her nose. “Why doesn’t he just let the chefs get the meat like always?”

“It’s an old tradition,” I said, liking that I knew some true bit of Ophiuchus history. “The alpha always used to lead a hunt before any important mating ceremony. I don’t think anyone’s done it in decades. Maybe longer.”

Malia started for the door. “Well?”

I hurried after her, calling over my shoulder to Evera. “I’ll be fine.”

She sighed. “If she hexes you, I will say I told you so.”

I snagged my boots and stuffed my feet inside before following Malia into the hallway. The two wolves standing guard outside my door snarled to warn me back inside. Malia snapped her fingers.

“I will have her back in ten minutes,” she said.

The wolves stepped back to let me pass. Her control over them didn’t sit well with me, and I started to wonder who they really listened to—Finneus or Malia.

We wound through the hallways and down to the basement without anyone stopping us. A pair of strays guarded the entrance to the tunnel that connected the alpha’s mansion to the dungeons beneath the temple. As a child I’d played in the tunnel, though my father never used the cells. No crime serious enough to warrant it happened under his watch.

Malia didn’t even use words to get the duo to back down. She flicked her wrist, and they moved aside. With another wave, the deadbolts sprang open, then the door.

Firelight flickered in torches along the walls of the earthen tunnel. Dirt collected on the hem of Malia’s cloak and dress, though she didn’t notice or didn’t care. We walked the short distance in cold silence, save our footsteps on the ground.

More wolves waited for us at the next door. They too responded to Malia’s hand movements.

Doesn’t interfere, my ass , I thought.

“Five minutes, Drake,” Malia said. “Use them wisely.”

I slipped inside the dark hallway. The door slammed shut behind me. Belatedly, I wondered if I should’ve taken Evera’s suspicions more seriously. I was now locked in the dungeons, which was way worse than being locked in a bedroom.

Three cells lined each wall, with a large enclosure at the back. It took my eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness. Once they did, I sort of wished they hadn’t. I’d expected to find Grace in the dungeons, but not all the other people huddled there.

Glowing gold eyes peered out from the shadows of the largest cell. I hurried forward and clasped the cold metal bars.

“Penn,” I breathed.

I could see the outline of his wolf laying in the darkness. He didn’t come closer. Then I saw the chain bolted to the floor and the cuff around his leg. Red tinged my vision. Finneus may have had his reasons for a lot of things—but this? It was torture.

Then I remembered they’d brought Evera into the temple in wolf form. She’d been reluctant to shift when the strays invaded her house, choosing instead to use the golf club. Was this what Finneus had done to her?

A shifter could remain in animal form for days on end, sometimes weeks, under the right conditions. And only by choice. A shifter forced to remain in animal form could start to go mad in a matter of hours.

I reached my arm through the bars and wiggled my fingers. Penn huffed like he couldn’t believe I tried to summon him like a dog. I took that as a good sign.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, knowing the words were trite yet unable to find better ones.

I sank to my knees and pressed my face to the cold metal. “You once asked me if I wanted to be your mate, do you remember?”

The wolf gave no indication one way or the other.

“Just know, the answer will always be the same.”

Penn huffed several times and then started toward me on his belly. Blood soaked the dark red fur on his leg like he’d fought the restraint and lost. As he drew closer, I realized I wasn’t wrong. The inside of the cuff had spikes that cut him every time he moved.

“No. Stop,” I said, holding up my hand.

Penn grunted and kept coming toward me. The chain groaned as he tried to stretch the unyielding metal. Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away. I had no right to cry when he was the one in pain.

My fingers barely skimmed his muzzle. I stared into his eyes and wished I could take away the hurt he fought so hard to hide. It wasn’t even physical. It was the mental torment born of helplessness that broke my heart.

“You once swore to protect me,” I whispered. “And I’m pretty sure I made the same vow. Let me be the hero for once, yeah?”

He nipped at my hand.

The door opened behind me. “Time’s up, Drake.”

“I won’t let you down,” I promised Penn, then stood and followed Malia without looking back.

After a long, hot shower, Evera helped me do my hair and makeup. She insisted on exaggerated dark and smoky eye makeup in a look she dubbed “warrior chic”. She even styled my blonde strands in an updo that sort of resembled a helmet. The look was better suited for a runway, but I liked it.

It was probably silly to spend so much time on my appearance, but it was a big night. ’Til death do us part, right?

Finneus sent Malia with dresses for both Evera and me. She smiled when I asked her to let the alpha know I had my outfit for the evening. To appease Finneus, I accepted the serpent cloak she brought.

As the sun sank in the sky outside, I slipped into my homemade dress. We’d stitched antique gold lace onto an ivory corset top to add cap sleeves, then attached a deep emerald skirt from another dress. When I moved my leg to the side where we’d cut a slit, red tulle peeked from beneath. Looking in the mirror, it felt right. Or maybe I was just looking for signs that weren’t there, an indication that fate had my back.

Anders still hadn’t been in touch, which was not a stellar start to the evening. Neither Evera nor I expressed our shared concern. I hadn’t seen him in the dungeons, and at least that was something. Evera found a spare strip of fabric and tied it around my thigh to secure the dagger. It seemed like a good idea until I tried to walk, and the weapon clattered to the ground between my feet.

“How about a loop on the back of the dress?” she suggested. “That should be easier to access anyway. The cloak will cover it.”

That worked much better, and I practiced slipping it free a few times.

Malia returned to let me know it was time. She and Evera, along with a dozen strays, escorted me to the temple where Finneus and our entire pack waited.

I didn’t have any family left, and Grace was still locked in the dungeons, so I approached the altar alone. My eyes focused on Finneus and never strayed. I let myself feel the betrayal and disgust that I’d bottled up in the name of self-preservation. Not long ago, I had wanted to murder him to avenge my father. I needed to expose that rage again.

Looking into his eyes, it wasn’t hard to find that well of loathing within myself. Finneus was an easy man to hate.

He held out his hands to me, a smile on his face that was almost affectionate. Annoyance flashed in his dark eyes when they landed on my dress.

“What was wrong with the one I bought?” he demanded.

“Nothing. I just prefer this.”

He wanted to argue but let it go when Malia joined us. Instead, he cleared his throat and addressed the pack.

“As you all know by now, Drake Aspen has requested I perform the true mates ceremony with her.” He squeezed my hands, and I forced a smile that hurt my soul. “Her father may have been a traitor, but he was our alpha. Out of respect for tradition, I have agreed to honor her tonight.”

My palms itched as his touch made my skin crawl. Relief nearly made me weep when Finneus dropped my hands, until his arm snaked around my waist.

I didn’t think, I just acted.

The dagger was clutched in my hand before I knew it. I spun into Finneus and pressed the blade to his throat. Pack members gasped. Strays growled and charged forward. Finneus held up his hand to keep them back, his gaze never registering fear.

“You’re too fragile to take a life,” he growled, giving voice to one of my worst anxieties. “Basil knew it. The whole pack knows it. They will never follow you.”

I filled my lungs to capacity and lowered the dagger. Finneus was right. If I killed him like this, the pack wouldn’t respect me. I would never respect myself. Malia had said a true warrior would know what to do when the time came, so I said the first words that popped into my head.

“I, Drake Aspen, challenge you for alpha.”