Chapter 29

With a boisterous neigh, Whicker cantered the length of the paddock. Prancing and blowing excitedly, the big gray swerved toward me. He lipped at the strange object I wore—a white sling holding my left arm—and I patted his neck reassuringly. He trotted off again, delighted to stretch his legs after so much time in a stall.

It was strange to be back at the rescue.

I hadn't planned to return, not with an MPD ambush waiting for me, but on our way down the mountain, Zak's phone had gone off. He'd checked his messages, tapped out a reply, then informed me I was clear to go home.

He'd refused to explain how he knew that, but I'd gone along with it anyway. After all, had there been agents waiting, I would've made sure they arrested the notorious Crystal Druid instead of me. Lucky for the both of us, there'd been no sign of agents or bounty hunters on our return.

But it was still strange that the MPD had suddenly backed off, and I didn't trust it. I didn't feel safe. I couldn't relax.

Leaning against the paddock fence, I lifted my gaze to Mount Burke, its rounded peak hazed with clouds stained pink by the setting sun in the west. Almost forty-eight hours had passed since we'd killed the Dullahan at the crossroads.

Forty-eight hours since I'd killed Laney.

As Whicker frolicked around the paddock, I wondered, for the thousandth time, what was wrong with me. Why I made such self-destructive decisions. Why I seemed so determined to ruin my life.

Instead of leaving Zak, whom I hated, whom I wanted dead, to fend for himself against the Dullahan, I'd gone after him. Instead of escaping while the Dullahan was focused on him, I'd tried to help. And instead of letting Laney call out his name, I'd killed her.

Before we'd left the crossroads, I'd located Balligor's pond and thrown my switchblade and Laney's knife into its murky waters, but I knew disposing of the murder weapon wouldn't be enough. I was already the prime suspect in Arla's murder, and most of my coven had witnessed my and Laney's confrontation at her house.

Now Laney was missing. It was only a matter of time before I became the prime suspect in her disappearance.

I'd already packed my things. At the first sign of the MPD's return, I would flee into the wilderness and disappear. I should've already run for it, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. This was the only place that'd felt like home since my parents' death. I couldn't bear the thought of losing it.

Especially now, mere days after recovering my missing memories. I was still raw, still bleeding inside. I'd never forgotten that I'd killed my aunt, but reliving the whole thing—the building hope, the crushing failure, the soul-tearing betrayal, my violent retaliation…

Lost in the past, I was still staring at the clouds, now dark and dusky, when Whicker walked over to nose at my pockets. Shaking myself, I clipped a lead line to his halter and led him back into the stable, his hooves clopping on the concrete aisle. I settled him in his stall, checked on Whinny and the other horses, then locked up.

The weather was still humid, though not as unbearably hot as it'd been two days ago. I breathed in the scents of night, squinting toward the glowing lights of the house as I debated.

I am hurt, dove.

"You're fine," I replied without looking away from the house.

I am most wounded.

"You're fine."

With a flash of white fur, a blue-eyed cat leaped onto the mounting block beside me. I nearly perished, yet you can't trouble yourself to ask after my wellbeing even once.

I shot Ríkr a withering look. "I asked plenty yesterday, and all you did was complain that I was smothering you. Weren't you the one saying how you're a fast healer and you'd be fine with a day of sleep?"

He slanted his ears sideways. My assurances should comfort your concern, not erase all worry.

"Oh really." I waved at his unblemished fur with my good hand. "And the fact you look perfectly healthy again also shouldn't erase my worry?"

Hmph.He jumped off the wooden block, his tail lashing. Such a cold heart.

"Don't pretend that isn't your favorite thing about me."

I do adore your viciousness. Never change, my lovely dove.

I turned away from the welcome lights of the house. "Not planning to."

Aside from a single visit to my apartment to grab a few changes of clothes and pack my getaway bag, I'd been sleeping in the house since returning from the crossroads. Zak was in my suite, and wherever he was, I didn't want to be.

Seeing him would mean confronting him about our past and his betrayal ten years ago. Despite my claim that I wanted an explanation, part of me wanted to just stick a knife in him and be done with it.

I strode toward the stable's rear door. Ríkr watched me go but wisely didn't follow.

Pushing the door open, I started up the stairs, my senses stretching ahead of me. I knew Zak was there. Ríkr was right that the druid's energy spread out from him like a slowly expanding wave, claiming more and more land the longer he stayed in one place.

It set my teeth on edge, his essence suffusing my home. At least I couldn't sense the sharper buzz of Lallakai's power; she'd been guarding him closely since returning from the crossroads, but she must be off somewhere else right now.

I stopped at the suite door, my good hand drifting toward my pocket—but my trusty switchblade was gone. I was unarmed, and I hated that too.

I hated everything about this.

Jaw clenched, I threw the door open and swept inside. The main room looked more or less untouched except for the blankets folded on the sofa, a pillow stacked neatly on top. My bedroom door was shut, as I'd left it, but the bathroom door was open, light spilling out into the dimly lit main room.

At the thump of the door shutting behind me, Zak stepped into the bathroom's open threshold. Black jeans hugged his legs and clung to his lean hips. He wore no shirt, leaving the sculpted muscles of his torso on display. Strips of white gauze were taped to his lightly tanned skin.

His hair was damp from a recent shower, his jaw clean-shaven and his green eyes sharp as they met mine from across the room.

I glanced from the bandages—around his left bicep and right forearm, over his right side just below his ribs, and a square on his left pectoral—to the roll of medical tape he held. I didn't remember the Dullahan injuring him like that.

A brief memory replayed in my head: a crazed scream erupting from my throat as I lunged for him with my knife.

Right. I'd injured him like that. Those were knife wounds.

I raised my chin, daring him to look for nonexistent guilt in my expression or body language. I didn't feel guilt. He'd deserved that and more.

My gaze moved over his face. The sight of him, the understanding of who he was, ignited the fires of hatred, regret, and self-loathing from that night ten years ago. His betrayal tore at me, as fresh as if just yesterday he'd walked away from our promise, leaving me beaten and broken in the rain.

He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. "You're back."

"I didn't go far," I replied, my voice husky with the emotions I was battling.

"I know. I saw you." He waved toward the window overlooking the pasture, then turned his attention to my sling. "How's your shoulder?"

Answering him calmly, casually, was almost impossible, but I forced the words out. "Cracked collarbone. When are you leaving?"

"I need to collect the fae favors owed to me. After that…"

"After that, you'll leave and never come back."

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the main room. "Will I?"

"You will," I snarled. "Or I'll gut you and feed your entrails to your own vargs."

"Really." He was advancing toward me with slow steps, a jaguar stalking his quarry. "Do you want me dead? Or do you just want to hurt me?"

"Both. Pain, then death."

He drew closer, too close, but I had no way to stop his approach.

"I find that hard to believe," he rumbled.

"Did you already forget who gave you those wounds?"

"You did… but they weren't even close to lethal." His broad shoulders filled my vision, and my traitorous feet stepped backward. "Shortly after you knifed me, you risked your life to save me."

I stepped back again and my back hit the door.

"Strange thing for someone who wants me dead to do, don't you think?" He stopped, barely a foot of space between us, his stare pinning me. "Why did you save me?"

My heart drummed behind my ribs, my innards churning, sharp edges grinding. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to make him bleed.

But what I most wanted was for him to speak the words that would repair the broken pieces inside me. The words that would fix all the ways he'd shattered me. The words that would let me lay my past to rest forever.

Except words like that didn't exist.

Nothing he said would fix me. Nothing he said would change what had happened between us. And the thought of hearing his inadequate explanation or weak apology—or worse, no apology at all—was more than I could take. He'd already destroyed me once. Learning why he'd done it might destroy me again.

Zak's eyes darkened, and he asked again, "Why did you save me, Saber?"

"So I could kill you myself."

His jaw tightened—and Ríkr's voice sounded in my head.

A black vehicle just pulled into the yard. Three males are getting out.

My eyes widened, and so did Zak's as he also heard my familiar's warning. I leaped away from the door, colliding with his chest in my rush. The MPD. It was the MPD. They were here for me. I'd expected more warning. I'd expected to have time to get away.

"Out," I gasped, shoving past Zak. "Need to get out!"

He caught my good elbow and spun me to face him. His hands gripped my upper arms, stopping my urgent movement.

"Saber, calm down."

"Calm down?" I half shouted, fear transforming into fury. "They're here to arrest me! I'm not going back to that. I'm not!"

"I know, and you won't. They won't arrest you. You're going to talk to them."

The men are heading for the stable,Ríkr told me urgently.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I wrenched against his hands, sharp pain lancing my collarbone. "Let me go!"

He held on tighter. "Listen to me, Saber! You texted the hotline like I told you to, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then trust me and—"

"I'll never trust you again!"

Ríkr's voice lashed my mind. They're coming up the stairs.

Zak swore. He released my shoulders—then grabbed the sides of my face and pulled my face up.

His hot mouth met mine, hard and urgent. As swiftly as he'd kissed me, he pulled back, leaving me stunned.

A loud bang shook the door a few feet behind me.

"Just open the door, Saber. It'll be okay, and if it's not, I'll kill those agents myself." He released me, strode to the bathroom, and shut himself inside, the door closing with a soft click.

A fist hammered on the apartment door a second time.

"Saber Orien?" an older male voice called.

Panic swam through my head. In a daze, I turned to the door. I no longer had time to run for it, which meant… which meant I had to once again trust the boy who'd betrayed me.

With a shaking hand, I turned the bolt and swung the door open.