Chapter Three The Woman I Saved

I wanted to hate Lena.

It would have been easier if I did.

After hearing her phone call the night I died, I'd already begun rewriting every memory I had of her.

Every smile became fake.

Every kindness became manipulation.

Every time she'd sat beside me at some miserable pack dinner and quietly changed the subject when people started making jokes about my lack of a wolf suddenly had another explanation.

She had wanted Rowan.

Maybe she'd wanted my place too.

But when I found her the morning after my death, Lena wasn't celebrating.

She was sitting on my bed, crying.

I stood in the doorway of my bedroom and watched her clutch the silver hairbrush Rowan had given me for our second anniversary.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Her voice cracked.

"I'm so sorry, Mira."

I stared at her.

"Are you?"

She couldn't hear me.

That was becoming the worst part of being dead.

I could finally ask the questions I'd been too afraid to ask while alive, and nobody could answer me.

Lena wiped her face with her sleeve.

I'd never seen her look like this.

Lena Voss didn't wipe her nose on expensive clothes. She didn't let her hair fall messily around her face or cry until her eyes swelled.

She was always composed.

Even when I wasn't.

A knock came at the door.

Lena quickly straightened.

One of the younger maids entered.

"Lady Lena?"

"What is it?"

"They're arranging the memorial."

My memorial.

I still wasn't used to hearing people discuss it.

"The florist wants to know what Luna Mira liked."

The maid shifted awkwardly.

"We weren't sure."

Of course they weren't.

I had lived in this house for four years, and most of the staff didn't know my favorite flower.

Lena did.

"White peonies," she said.

I looked at her.

"And no lilies. She hated the smell."

The maid nodded.

"White peonies. No lilies."

"Thank you."

When she left, Lena looked at the hairbrush again.

For a moment, she seemed impossibly tired.

"I never wanted this," she whispered.

Anger rose inside me.

"Then what did you want?"

Her phone vibrated.

Lena looked at the screen.

Everything about her changed.

She stood immediately.

The grief was still there, but fear had joined it.

She shoved the phone into her coat and left my bedroom.

I followed.

This time, I was getting an answer.

***

Lena left through the eastern side of the manor.

She kept looking behind her as she crossed the gardens.

If I'd been alive, she would have noticed me immediately.

Being dead had some advantages.

She went farther than I expected, past the training grounds and toward the abandoned conservatory near the edge of the estate.

Nobody used it anymore.

Half its glass roof was broken, and vines had swallowed most of the stone walls.

Lena slipped inside.

A man was waiting for her.

I'd never seen him before.

He looked old enough to be Rowan's father, though he carried himself like one of the warriors. His dark coat was expensive, his boots spotless despite the muddy path outside.

A thin scar disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.

Lena stopped when she saw him.

"You shouldn't be here."

"You weren't answering your phone."

"My friend died last night."

"I heard."

Her expression hardened.

"Heard?"

The man said nothing.

"You told me nobody would be hurt."

My anger sharpened.

So she knew something.

I moved closer.

The man glanced toward one of the broken windows.

"Keep your voice down."

"No."

"Lena."

"You said it would frighten me."

My attention was fixed on her.

"What would you do?"

She stepped toward him.

"You said the vehicle would come close. Close enough that Rowan would hear about it. That was all."

The man watched her carefully.

"I told you there were risks."

"You told me the driver knew what he was doing!"

Understanding arrived slowly.

Then all at once.

Lena had known about the car.

My friend had walked onto that road knowing something would happen.

"You knew."

The words came out as a whisper.

I remembered running toward her.

Dropping my groceries.

Pushing her aside.

Dying.

"You knew there would be a car."

Lena's eyes filled with tears.

"But Mira wasn't supposed to be there."

The man's expression didn't change.

"She wasn't."

"Then how did she end up in front of that SUV?"

"Bad luck."

"Don't lie to me."

His eyes narrowed.

Lena stepped closer.

"Someone followed her from the store."

That caught his attention.

Only slightly, but I saw it.

"Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters who you've been speaking to."

"My friend was killed. I started asking questions."

For the first time since I'd known her, I felt something other than anger toward Lena.

Surprise.

Maybe even reluctant respect.

The man lowered his voice.

"You need to stop."

"Was the driver supposed to hit Mira?"

"No."

"Was he?"

Silence.

Lena stared at him.

"You don't know."

"I said no."

"Too late."

She shook her head.

"I saw your face."

The man stepped forward.

"You participated willingly."

"It's frightening Rowan!"

Her voice echoed around the abandoned building.

She lowered it again.

"You said if Rowan believed I was in danger, he'd stop keeping me at a distance."

Something ugly twisted inside me.

There it was.

Rowan.

Of course.

"You wanted my husband."

Lena couldn't hear me, but saying it still helped.

"I never agreed to kill anyone," she continued.

The man almost smiled.

"Does that distinction make you feel better?"

Lena slapped him.

I hadn't expected that.

Apparently neither had he.

His head snapped to one side.

The conservatory went silent.

Lena's hand trembled.

"Mira saved me."

The man slowly looked at her again.

"After you helped put yourself in danger to manipulate her husband."

Lena went pale.

It was cruel.

It was also true.

Whatever she hadn't known, Lena wasn't innocent.

She had betrayed me long before the SUV struck me.

The man touched his cheek.

"Don't make the mistake of pretending you're a victim now."

"I'm done."

"No."

"I said I'm done."

"You don't decide that."

Lena's laugh sounded unsteady.

"Watch me."

She turned.

“The Council will—”

He stopped himself.

“Forget it.”

She stopped.

Council.

I moved closer.

Lena didn't turn around.

"What does the Council have to do with this?"

Interesting.

She hadn't known.

The man seemed to realize he'd said too much.

"Go home."

"No. You just said—"

"I said go home."

"And I'm supposed to pretend none of this happened?"

"You're supposed to grieve your friend."

His expression hardened.

"And keep your mouth shut."

Lena stared at him.

Then she walked out.

I almost followed her.

Almost.

But after four years of chasing people who walked away from me, perhaps death had finally taught me something.

Sometimes it was better to stay and listen.

The man waited.

One minute.

Then two.

Finally, he pulled out his phone.

"She knows something went wrong."

I stepped closer.

A voice answered, too faint for me to understand.

"No. She still believes the vehicle was part of the performance."

My stomach twisted.

Another response.

The man looked toward the door Lena had used.

"Of course she's a liability. But removing Voss now would attract attention."

Removing.

The way he said it made me wonder how many people these men had already "removed."

The voice spoke again.

This time, I caught two words.

Mira Vale.

My name.

The man lowered his voice.

"The opportunity presented itself. We took it."

I went completely still.

Opportunity.

Me walking onto that road had not been part of Lena's plan.

But somebody had seen me there.

And decided to kill me.

"Why?"

I moved closer to him.

"Why me?"

The voice crackled through the phone.

I caught another word.

Heir.

The man frowned.

"No. That won't be a concern anymore."

He listened.

"The Vale woman died without producing one."

I stared at him.

An heir?

Rowan and I had never even shared a bed.

Why would the Council care whether I had children?

I thought of Rowan's hidden letters.

If you ever learn why I married you, you may never forgive me.

For the first time, the two secrets seemed to touch.

His marriage to me.

My murder.

Children I'd never had.

"What did Rowan know?"

The man stiffened.

I thought it was something the caller had said.

Then he slowly lowered the phone.

His eyes moved toward the corner where I stood.

I stopped.

He couldn't see me.

Nobody could.

The man scanned the empty conservatory.

"What is it?" the voice on his phone asked.

He didn't answer.

My hands began to tingle.

I looked down.

For one second, something silver shimmered beneath my fingers.

Then vanished.

Fear crawled through me.

The man took a step in my direction.

I backed away.

His gaze followed.

No.

That wasn't possible.

I moved left.

His eyes moved left.

The phone slipped slowly from his ear.

He reached beneath his coat.

"You shouldn't be here," he whispered.

I couldn't move.

He took another step.

I told myself he was guessing.

He couldn't possibly know.

Then his eyes met mine.

Not where I was standing.

Not somewhere near me.

Mine.

The face of a man I'd never met was drained of color.

His lips parted.

"Mira?”