Chapter 9 - He dies by my hands or not at all

Nyra POV

The dream began in a silver fog, yet it felt so real. 

I stood barefoot on soft ash with iron and moist rot in my nostrils. My tongue tasted like old promises in the mist, and my fingers gnawed at my palms as my hands balled into fists.

Kade appeared out of the fog. He had the weight of a thousand justifications. He was everything that women described as irresistible: broad, ruthless, and carved from shadow. He gave me a weary, hollow-faced look as though he had been waiting to be rescued by me.

The air was broken by a voice, perhaps his or someone else's: "Not for the pack… not for the crown… but for her."

Instead of longing, I felt a repulsive nausea.  How could anyone claim him as their own?  His life is mine to take. The gods owe it to me. 

The fog broke up, giving me a clearer view. His chest was sliced open like a book by black fire, and the Wraithborn—slick, toothed creatures with sunken eyes—came crawling out of the wound.  Kade didn't fight as they swarmed, their claws searching for tendon and meat.  He just gave me the same kind, distant sympathy he had worn ever since I had first irritated him.

He had allowed himself to be taken by the hand of death.

I took off running. The fog gripped like a cage and folded into my ribs as I tore at it. He was pulled toward a pit by the Wraithborn, which had an odor reminiscent of old graves. 

Does he think I would let him die so easily? What an insult. When he breathes his last, it will be in my hands, not Hades's claws or the Veil's hunger. I would break him and leave his name marred by blood.

A grove of bleeding trees came into view. The Veil, patient and hungry, breathed around them.  Kade dangled over the roots, shadows kissing his throat. The forest drank the name of the Wraithborn, who fed it.

I should have been filled with grief, yet there was a chilly, untamed fury that filled my insides.

"No!" I cried, not to beg but to claim.  "He's mine."

I woke up with a laugh that tasted like old iron with sweat glued to my skin.

I would never allow the Dreadmoor to negotiate on his behalf. The only blade that will tear Kade's heart open is mide, not Hades.

How could anyone dare to claim him as their own? If he was to be broken, if blood was going to stain his name, it would be by my hands.

I forced myself out of bed, legs trembling beneath me. The chamber door creaked open, and a figure stood guard outside.

It was Riven.

With his arms folded and steel-cold eyes, his enormous bulk filled the hallway. His jaw tensed at the sight of me. "You ought to stay in bed."

"Where is he?" My voice sounded frantic and harsh.

"Who?"

"Kade. I said, "Where is he?"

Riven's mouth twisted. "That's no concern of yours."

I was furious," Don't lie to me. He's your Alpha, ther—"

Riven interrupted in a stern, low voice, "He's my Alpha. Not yours."

The words hit harder than I had anticipated.

I swallowed hard, "I just... I need to see him. Please." I begged, I never beg.

His gaze grew stony. "Go back inside and get all the rest you need."

My throat ached. I couldn't fight him since my body was feeble. I turned my back and retreated into the room, my dignity in ruins.

His rude comment didn't hurt as much as the finality with which he slammed the door closed behind me.

Days passed, and each day I observed the same routine

Sleep, wake, eat, sleep again. Sounds mechanical, but my body was still healing.

Without Kade around, it was more evident that I was an outsider. Eyes followed me into the hallways each time, and whispers hung like cobwebs on my skin.

"Who is he?"

"Heard she's with the Alpha"

"Frail little thing."

They didn't bother to hide it.  I was an omen they'd prefer to see vanished, an interloper.

But every day I pushed myself farther until my legs became steady and my senses became keener.  I listened as well, skimming for shards of truth.

But the castle had teeth for truth.

After midnight, I crept out of my room.  The corridors were silent and lengthy, with low flames spitting from torches. My breathing was shallow and my steps were light, so I heard them.

Two voices came from a room at the end of the hallway, urgent yet quiet. I crept closer, pressing myself into the darkness.

"...he will survive this," Cruella growled.

"He won't," said another, scathingly assured.  "No one lives through the Dreadmoor."

My blood turned to ice.

The Dreadmoor? My heart thumped as I edged closer.

Cruella spoke again, "What do you think will happen if he doesn't return?  The pack will not—"

The other said, "They won't have any other option. He made this decision.  He will either be buried or lose his sanity in the Dreadmoor.  The throne changes in either case."

My knees became weaker.  I put my hand against the chilly stone wall to keep myself upright.

My dream had come true. The asshole was in Dreadmoor. It was more than a bad dream.  It was real. I gasped, raggedly.  Before my shaky body ratted me out. I retreated to my room.

The only person who had ever survived Dreadmoor was Kade's father, and we all know he lost his mind afterwards. What was he thinking going there?

My pulse pounded in my ears as my chest clenched. The room spiraled around me. In desperate denial, I staggered. I wanted to believe it wasn't true, but deep down I knew it was true,

"Fine," I said to myself. "He might be at Dreadmoor, but I'll join him. There's no way I'd let go without a fight. I'll go down there and pull him out if the gnaws of Hades if I have to. His life is mine to take, and I wouldn't let any god, any man, and certainly not Dreadmoor take it from me.