Kaya
The world has been divided into before and after.
The world before I t Damien. The world after I t Magnus.
And I can’t really tell which world I want to live in. Not anymore.
My eyelids are so heavy. Every ti I try to peel them open, a sharp wave of pain seizes , tugging at every muscle, stretching my body as if it might snap apart.
I always thought drugs were ant to dull pain, to numb the body and cloud the mind. Whatever they’re giving does the opposite—it sharpens everything until I feel raw and exposed.
And yet, a part of doesn’t mind. Staying alert ans I can think about Magnus. Honestly, it’s all I do.
I think about the way he wrapped in his shirt the first ti we t, carrying toward his car as if I weighed nothing. I think about how he humbled in our first sparring match, forcing to face myself.
I think about the way he kissed . The way his voice broke when he told I was his mate.
I think about him. Always him. And even though the thought of him aches like an open wound, there’s relief in the pain. I would rather hurt like this forever than forget him. He is my mate. My ho. My everything.
Even if he never accepts . Even if... we never see each other again.
A wince escapes as a cold, calloused palm brushes across my forehead, smoothing damp hair back. A strong herbal scent fills my lungs, grounding , and I know it’s her again—the old witch. She cos every two hours. I know because her visits are all I have to asure the ti.
"When will you stop pretending?" she asks softly, her voice neither cruel nor impatient. That, more than anything, makes sigh in relief.
"I’m tired," I murmur, though it cos out more like a low, irritable grumble than simple words.
"Silly girl." The witch clicks her tongue and presses sothing sweet against my lips. "Eat it—it’s just candy. I promise."
I frown, my mouth tightening into a stubborn line. "They teach you not to take candy from strangers."
She scoffs at that, her amusent low and sharp. "Strangers? Hardly. I’ve been changing your clothes and cleaning you up like a baby every single day—that should count for sothing."
A weak laugh escapes , and with effort, I peel my eyes open, though it’s the only movent I allow myself. My body feels sluggish, every muscle aching, and even smiling requires strength I barely have.
"You seem... like a nice person," I murmur after a stretch of silence, watching the way the lamplight throws restless shadows across the ceiling of my cage. "So why help a monster like him?"
I hadn’t expected a real answer. Still, the silence that follows unsettles more than I care to admit. My words had been ant to cut, to provoke—but now that they’ve struck, guilt coils in my chest like a snake.
"Sorry," I whisper at last, straining to turn my head toward her. "Maybe you’re not so nice after all. I’ve been wrong about people before."
A sudden chuckle slices through the air, brittle and unexpected, like a sheet of paper being torn from its file. I blink, focusing on her face—and my breath catches. She’s laughing, but her cheeks are streaked with tears.
"What would you do to save soone you love?" she asks finally, her laughter vanishing, her voice cold enough to freeze the air between us.
The question baffles , and before I can stop myself, my thoughts drift back to Magnus. At first, I believed I was drawn to him only because of the mating bond—but that wasn’t the truth.
I fell in love the mont I saw him. I fell in love with the sadness hidden in those hauntingly beautiful eyes. I fell in love with the way he made feel safe in a world that had only ever hurt .
I love him. And I would do anything for him.
"This is what I am doing, too," the witch says suddenly, as if she has reached inside my chest and plucked the thought straight from my heart. I blink at her, stunned, but she doesn’t seem to care about my reaction. "I am doing this because I want to save my daughter."
Her words rob of speech. My thoughts, sharp only monts ago, dissolve into a heavy fog, leaving numb and unsettled. Save her daughter? How could helping Damien carry out his vile plan ever save anyone?
"What happened to your daughter?" I manage to ask at last, my voice soft, careful not to push too hard too soon.
The witch remains silent for a long ti, as if testing how long I will wait, or perhaps struggling to find words that will not betray her completely. When she finally does speak, her voice trembles with such raw heartbreak that pity grips my chest like a vice.
"Do you know what he plans to do with all the won he has taken?"
I shake my head, the movent sending a fresh bolt of pain through . Speaking feels wrong right now.
"He will release them," the witch says, her voice low but steady. Yet the promise that should sound like freedom feels like a death sentence instead. "He will let them return to their mates and then... he will kill them. The mont they receive a claiming mark, they’ll die."
"What...?" My voice cracks as I push myself up on my elbows, ignoring the strain in my body. My mind blanks, refusing to process the words. It can’t be true. But as the aning settles, dread churns into fury, and I feel my whole body trembling—part rage, part disbelief.
"I thought... kidnapping the females was just a diversion. A way to distract everyone from his real plan?"
The witch shakes her head, fat tears sliding down her cheeks and soaking into the coarse wool of her pants. "Can you imagine what will happen to the males when their mates die in their arms? You were right, Miss Kaya—he is a monster. And that monster... has my daughter."
"Your daughter?" The words stumble from , my chest tightening. "But why? I thought he only needed the wolves?"
Her face drains of all color, and when her hollow eyes lock with mine, sothing cold ripples through , shaking down to the bone.
"This can’t be..." My whisper sounds like soone else’s voice, fragile and breaking. "I never questioned it because I believed Damien didn’t have a mate. But now... Goddess." My heart plumts as the pieces click together. "Serena... your daughter—is she Damien’s mate?"
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