.Chapter 20-2
“What’s wrong, Sisi?” my father asked, running up to us slightly out of breath from the chase.
Clare
“This…” I mumbled, staring at the sword embedded in the beast’s side. My hands were shaking as I pointed at it. “Did anyone use a sword today?”
I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it confirmed.
“No,” my father said, frowning. “We used our claws and teeth. That’s not one of ours.”
My stomach turned again, and my wolf thrashed desperately inside my mind. Because I recognized that sword. I’d held it, stared at it, slept next to it and its owner. The intricate engravings on the hilt were as familiar to me as my own reflection.
This was Kane’s sword. The one he’d thrown aside when he shifted to fight the mutated creatures that had attacked us in the woods. The one I’d used to kill the beast that had been trying to kill him.
The one he should have retrieved after the fight, if he’d been alive to do so.
But it was firmly buried in the beast’s side, in what looked like a defensive wound. The skin had tried to close around the blade, which made me believe it had been there for a while. Days, maybe even weeks. Which meant he had been fighting these creatures, possibly alone, possibly injured, while I’d been safe on my mountain feeling sorry for myself.
I fell to my knees in front of the dead creature, staring blankly at the familiar weapon. Was he alive? Injured somewhere, weaponless and defenseless?
Was he waiting for me? Maybe even looking for me?
‘Yes, a cruel part of my brain chimed in. ‘Looking for you so he can take you to his son. That’s the
whole reason you left him in the first place.’
But the biggest part of me, my heart, my wolf, every instinct I possessed, was in agony at the thought. Surely I would have felt it if he’d died? The mate bond might have been rejected, but some
connection should have remained, shouldn’t it?
“Come on, dear,” my mother whispered, wiping away tears I hadn’t realized were coursing down my face. “Let’s go back to help with the injured and get you that tonic and warm drinks. You’re freezing.”
She pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, and I realized I was trembling from more than just the cold
mountain air.
I didn’t feel my body as I stood up and walked back toward town, letting my parents guide me
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while they shared worried glances they thought I didn’t notice. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered
anymore.
The sword stayed where it was, too embedded in the creature’s flesh for us to remove without tools. But its presence answered questions I’d been too afraid to ask and raised new ones I wasn’t
sure I wanted answered.
If he was truly dead, had it been quick? Had he thought of me in his final moments, or had he died hating me for the rejection I’d thrown in his face?
The pregnancy hormones weren’t helping my emotional state. Every thought felt amplified, every
fear magnified until I could barely breathe around the weight of them.
My parents kept shooting me concerned looks as we walked back through the town square, where
the cleanup from the battle was already underway. Bodies of the dead beasts were being dragged away, the wounded fighters were getting better treatment, and life was slowly returning to normal.
But nothing felt normal anymore.
“Sisi,” my mother said gently as we reached the pack house. “Do you want to tell us why that sword
upset you so much?”
I opened my mouth to lie, to deflect, to make up some excuse about why I’d recognized a random weapon. But the words wouldn’t come. I was too tired to lie anymore, too emotionally drained to keep pretending that everything was fine.
“It belonged to someone I knew,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Someone you cared about?” my father asked, his alpha instincts probably picking up on the pain
in my scent.
I nodded, not trusting my voice to remain steady if I spoke.
“The father of your baby?” my mother guessed, and I could hear the understanding in her tone.
Another nod.
They didn’t push for more details, which I was grateful for. I wasn’t ready to explain that the father of my child was the missing lycan king, or that I’d rejected our mate bond in a fit of anger.
I wasn’t ready to admit that my mate might be dead, and it was entirely my fault.
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