Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kane

Blood . It’s all I can taste. Maybe I’ve bitten my tongue. Maybe I’m already fang-deep in Silas’s throat. Or maybe it’s Willow’s.

It’s with that thought I snap back to reality.

“Enough!” Silas roars. “Kane, you’re hurting her!”

My grip loosens from his shoulders. I must’ve been trying to toss him off the bed. It’s only now I realize why he and Willow aren’t coming apart.

He’s knotted her.

My mind races. Willow was still out cold when I left. Does that mean … did he force himself on her?

This time it’s Willow’s whimpers that keep me grounded. I see her lips move, trying to speak, but the words don’t come.

“You barked at her,” I realize. “You piece of shit. You barked at her!”

“Just give me a minute,” he says through gritted teeth. “The knot’s going down.”

Don’t waste this chance, my inner alpha snarls. He’s trapped. Defenseless.

I swallow back the urge. Yeah, but so is she.

Finally, Silas pulls out. It’s like a spell breaks—him, collapsing onto his back, Willow, gasping and scrambling. She stands, her knees buckling on impact. I catch her and wrap her up in my cloak.

“Get out,” she cries. “ Out !”

I can’t help but recognize the heartbreak on Silas’s face. If I wasn’t so close to turning feral, I might even feel sorry for him.

He finds his pants, hastily dressing. “Give me a minute to explain.”

“I don’t want you to explain.” Willow is trembling so hard I’m worried she’ll slip right out of my arms. “I–I don’t want anything from you. Ever.”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he insists.

“I know why you’re here,” Willow says. “They sent you. The sentinels. Pack Shire. Some one.”

Fuck . You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. I glower at Silas. “That true?”

He starts to argue, then stops himself. “It’s—complicated.”

If this piece of shit has any thing to do with the alphas who hurt my omega, I’ll drag him out of here by his fucking teeth.

“Willow—” Silas starts.

Her face is pale. I shield her in my cloak, wrapping it around tighter.

“Willow,” Silas says again. “You should know, I won’t be the only one.”

She bristles, and my lip curls. “You have five seconds to get lost.”

“They’re not going to stop,” he urges. “But I can help you, if you’d just—”

“Three . ”

“Willow, look at me.”

“ Two .”

Suddenly Willow growls—a hoarse, pained omega warning—as her face peers out from my shoulder. “I said,” she whispers, “ get out .”

Silas stares at Willow, his lips parted like there’s more he wants to say. She stares back—shivering, cold as ice, reeking of panic, but not letting up.

Finally, he steps back. “It’s your decision. I hope, for both your sakes, it’s the right one.”

Neither me or Willow move. We stand there, bundled together, as Silas rummages through the living room, finding his remaining armor and sword.

How could I have been so stupid? A massive alpha turns up on my mountain, dressed fancy, talking even fancier, carrying a sword , and it doesn’t occur to me to ask why he’s here? Willow warned me her village would be looking for her.

“ You can call me whatever you want. But her—you call her Willow . And nothing else.”

Silas’s face changed when I said those words. He knew . Maybe not from the very start, but at least from that moment … he knew.

The front door slams. Willow turns slack. I don’t let her fall, sitting on the edge of the bed as I gather her in my lap. My inner alpha wants to charge after Silas, make him pay for whatever he’s done, but Willow is sobbing—breaking apart—and all I can do is hold her.

I tuck her face into my neck, pumping out my scent. Soon, I’ll be the only alpha she thinks of.

And Silas will be nothing more than a ghost.

***

A couple hours later, there’s a knock at the door. Willow’s eyes widen. I growl.

“Stay here, bunny.”

“Wait,” she blurts out. “M–my knife. Where is it?”

“Don’t need it.”

“Kane!”

“I’ll be right back .”

She’s still scrambling, like the blade will somehow materialize in her bedsheets, as I charge to the front door. I yank my dagger off the counter.

“Hey!” I throw the door open. The wintry night air hits me all at once, sharpening my senses. “You gotta death wish?” I swing my weapon. “Coward! Show yourself!”

Only the wind answers, whistling coolly. I circle the cabin twice, glaring into the surrounding trees, searching for Silas’s glowing amber eyes glaring back at me. Nothing. Not even a scent.

Maybe he really is a ghost.

It’s only when I return to the front door that I see it—a small, leaf-wrapped parcel balanced on the windowsill. Hesitantly, I pick it up.

“What is it?”

I start. Willow is standing in the cabin, my cloak wrapped around her. Begrudgingly, I show her the parcel. “No idea.”

She takes it from my hands, testing its weight, then brings it up to her nose. Her features darken. Calculating.

“What?” I demand.

Unwrapping the leaves, she examines as bits of dried petals scatter in her palm. “Oh.” She swallows. “I see.”

“See what ?”

I don’t like this look on her face, like she’s either about to throw up or burst into tears. It’s doubly confusing when she does neither. Instead, her jaw sets, her pheromones withdrawing.

“I need you to boil some water,” she says.

I want to argue, but I guess I don’t have the heart for it. Not tonight.

I do as I’m told, stoking the fireplace and preparing some water. Willow retrieves her mug from the makeshift sink.

“Will—” I start.

She thrusts her mug at me. Stares.

Biting back my frustration, I fill it up and pass it back. “You gonna tell me what that shit is?”

“Medicine,” she says simply.

“Medicine. From Silas.” My lip curls. “And what, suddenly you trust him? He didn’t even have the balls to give it to you himself.”

“Would you have let him, if he tried?”

Point taken. Even so …

She steeps the ingredients, staring into the water as it darkens. Steam is still rising off its surface as she brings the mug to her lips, drinking deeply.

It’s all I can do not to smack the damn thing out of her hands. What the fuck is she thinking! Two hours ago, she didn’t trust this alpha enough to keep him in her sights. Now, she’s drinking down some mysterious petals he leaves outside her door in the dead of night?

“Slow down!” I snap. “What if it’s poison?”

She swallows. “It’s not. I checked.”

“You sniffed it. Sorry if that doesn’t exactly give me peace of mind.”

“I know these ingredients. And what they’re used for.”

“Oh yeah? What does a pampered village omega know about plants?”

At that she finally stops, her gaze lifted above the mug’s rim. “Enough to know which ones prevent pregnancy.”

Is she … is that … I glare at the mug again, like I can somehow drain its contents. A contraceptive? Seriously? That shit was all but banned in my home village. The omegas I knew said it was unreliable at best. And at worst …

“For fuck’s sake, Willow.” I groan. “Don’t drink that.”

She clutches the mug tighter.

“You’re not pregnant,” I tell her. “It was just one heat!” I’ve known packs who spent three, even five cycles before it took.

Willow doesn’t budge.

I huff. “Fine. Even if, by some chance, you are, I’ll take care of it.” I’ll take care of you, my inner alpha adds. If only you’d let me.

Willow’s emerald eyes darken. She lowers the mug ever-so-slightly.

“All due respect, Kane,” she says, her voice almost a growl, “go fuck yourself.”

With that, she takes a long, final swig. And then she rises, dropping her mug in the sink, not so much as glancing back at me over her shoulder as she returns to the bedroom.