SAGE
Silence settled over the room again.
I lay there, pinned by pain, pinned by truth, pinned by the consequences of every misstep I had made.
My mind worked even as my body weakened. The queen had lied to her children. Hendel had lied to his. The throne had been built on deceit, blood, jealousy, and hunger.
Even their own family was a lie.
A part of wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. Another part quietly tucked the information away. If I lived, I could use it.
If I died... then at least I would die knowing the full shape of the rot.
No point crying over spilled milk. Tears wouldn’t save . Information might.
My gaze shifted to Hendel. He stood close to the queen, calm, composed, hands loosely clasped behind his back as though he were attending a court eting rather than overseeing my slow death.
I forced air into my lungs. "Why," I rasped, "are you okay with all this?"
He didn’t answer. The queen did.
She reached up and tapped his cheek lightly, affectionate, mocking, proprietary. "Love," she said simply.
The word sounded wrong coming from her mouth.
She tilted her head toward . "Isn’t that what binds you to Adam?"
Her lips curved. "So deep it shattered Claire’s spell over him."
My brows furrowed weakly. "What are you talking about?"
She shrugged, unbothered by my confusion. "Claire placed loyalty spells over the triplets years ago," she said casually. "To keep them obedient. To keep them from seeing their own mates."
The words slid into and detonated quietly. My mind reeled. Noah. Daniel. Their mates.
Had those won been around all this ti—unseen, unrecognized, unheard?
Had they felt the bond tugging at them, calling them toward n who couldn’t see them?
Had they felt rejected without ever being chosen?
My chest tightened. Naomi flashed through my thoughts. Her pain. Her bitterness. Her desperation.
Was Noah her mate?
Had she been suffering all along, tethered to soone who never even knew a mate bond existed between them?
The injustice of it twisted sothing sharp inside . I could understand her earlier wish to have dead then, if my guess was right.
The queen interrupted the spiral of my thoughts with a soft, amused chuckle. "How does it feel," she asked lazily, "to be pushed off your path?"
Her eyes glead. "To die here while my plans co to fruition?"
I scoffed weakly. It ca out thin. Dry. Crooked.
"You’re delusional," I murmured. "The ancients have already arrived at the pack. Whatever fantasy you’ve built will crumble."
Her smirk widened. "Oh, Sage."
She stepped closer. "Why do you think I plan to mobilize this community?"
My pulse skipped.
She went on, voice smooth, almost gleeful. "The citizens here. The surrounding witch communities. They will fight."
"For vampires?" I whispered hoarsely. I had thought that the eting was to turn away werewolves if they were to co to the communities for refuge.
"They will protect what they believe is theirs," she replied simply. "And witches don’t need invitations. They don’t need daylight. They can tear hos open. Break defenses. Give vampires access at night."
A shiver crawled down my spine. This was worse than I’d imagined. Far worse. A coordinated assault. Witches tearing down wards. Vampires flooding hos. Families slaughtered in their sleep.
My jaw clenched as nausea twisted low in my stomach.
"This eting," I murmured, forcing focus, "it will happen before the attack."
She nodded slightly. "Of course."
I need to stop it. I whispered to myself.
"People will fight tooth and nail to protect what’s theirs," the queen continued calmly. "And if persuasion fails..."
Her gaze flickered with amusent. "There is always illusion. Compulsion. Influence."
The room tilted. My body scread at to give up. To let go. Pain flared around the stake embedded in my chest, black magic pulsing through it like poison.
My eyelids fluttered. I swallowed hard. No. Not yet. If I blacked out naturally, I would lose control. If my body shut down on its own, I wouldn’t know what happened next.
I had to choose when to fall. I had to control it. I had to die, had to command my body to rejuvenate.
My breath trembled as I tried to relax—tried to rember what Darius had taught .
Ergency shutdown. Slow the heart. Lower the mind. Pull inward. Retreat. Let your spirit surface.
I focused inward, past pain, past fear, past the sound of the queen’s voice.
I felt her mocking . Heard Hendel’s low laugh. Soft footsteps. Whispers. The faint, sickening sound of a kiss.
Victory must feel sweet to them.
My awareness thinned. Reality began to blur. And then I slipped.
—
The ground split above , and I jumped out, craving blood. Again.
The sa nightmare. The sa cursed vision.
Hands clawed upward from broken earth, from everywhere literally, reaching for .
Lost souls. Trapped souls. Screaming. Begging. Cursing.
Their voices layered over one another until the sound beca a storm.
You let us rot. You failed us. You should have died instead.
I staggered back, heart hamring, lungs burning.
For a terrifying mont, I thought this was death. That I had finally crossed the threshold.
Regret pooled inside . Regret that I hadn’t changed things. That I hadn’t rewritten fate. That I had let this unfold.
A presence flickered ahead. I frowned. This wasn’t part of my dream.
Light coalesced into a familiar shape. Makeh.
Relief crashed into .
I rushed toward her, arms lifting instinctively—only to stop short when I rembered she was not fully here.
More spirit than flesh. More mory than woman.
"Makeh," I breathed. My tears fell.
I shook my head, sha burning through . "You warned ," I whispered. "You told not to trust them. I didn’t listen."
My voice broke, filled with pain and guilt.
Makeh lifted her hand, expression gentle but firm. "Enough," she said quietly. "Stop weeping."
Her gaze softened. "Your journey isn’t over."
I looked up sharply.
"Help is coming," she continued. "And you were right not to drag Darius or Adam here."
My chest tightened. "Why?"
"Because the queen wanted it," Makeh replied. "She craves alpha blood. Ancient blood most of all."
A chill washed over .
"Having access to them," Makeh went on, "would have made everything worse."
My pulse stuttered. "So... I’m not dead?"
She smiled. "This is a dream."
Hope fluttered weakly in my chest.
"Wake up," she said softly.
"Wait," I whispered urgently. "What help—"
The world began to fade. Her figure blurred. The screams softened into distant echoes. The ground dissolved.
Darkness closed in.
And I slipped again, pulled toward oblivion.
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