Chapter 33

SARA 

"I can't stay cooped up in that room, Harlan. I feel like I'm fading out of existence. Why am I the only one in the entire pack house who is forbidden from leaving the building? Even for a simple stroll through the gardens? What I wouldn't give to feel the evening breeze on my face again," I said, a wave of nostalgia washing over me.

Back when I was the pack’s primary healer, my evening walks were my sanctuary. They were the only way I could make sense of the trauma I witnessed and reconcile my thoughts.

Harlan opened the door wider and motioned for me to hurry inside. He looked at me with such profound, soul-deep pity that my stomach did a slow, sickening roll. "Sara... I’m so sorry. I’m sure you are aware that Alpha Rune has been searching for you and came here to confront Tristan, right?"

"Yes, of course I’m aware. But what does that have to do with me being kept a prisoner in the attic? If they want me locked up, they should just move me back to the dungeon so I know I’m physically a prisoner, rather than this psychological torture they’ve placed me in," I spat, my voice cracking with anger.

"After Rune left, he planted spies everywhere. He didn't believe Tristan’s story for a second. We’ve identified some of them, but Tristan is terrified we haven't found them all. He’s been trying to find a way to make Rune call off the search without starting a war. Strangely, he got the 'break' he was looking for this morning," Harlan explained, his voice grim.

"I don't understand. A break? How?"

Harlan shook his head slowly, a hollow chuckle escaping his lips. "The news came in this morning from the border scouts. There was a horrific accident on Highway 25. A car went over the cliff and burst into flames."

"What are you saying, Harlan? What does a car fire have to do with me?"

"The world believes you were in that car, Sara. Yvonne and Khalid... they orchestrated the whole thing. They faked your death with a body double and alchemical scents. Tristan’s spies just reported back that Rune went to the crash site himself. He verified the remains."

The floor seemed to tilt and vanish beneath my feet. I reached out to grab the edge of his table to keep from falling. "And? Did he... did he realize it was a trick? Rune is a tracker, surely he knew it wasn't me?"

Harlan looked away, unable to meet my eyes. "He believes it, Sara. The reports say the Conqueror has completely retreated. He’s locked himself in his chambers in the Crescent Moon. He’s given up the search entirely. He is currently mourning a corpse."

The tears didn't sting; they felt like ice-cold water carving permanent tracks into my skin. Rune—the man who had turned my life into a hunting ground, the man I had spent every waking moment fearing—was my only remaining tether to a world that mattered. If he believed I was dead, then the identity of Sara Lockwood had truly ceased to exist. I was officially a non-person.

I didn't wait for Harlan to say another word. I turned and ran, my breath hitching painfully in my chest. I stumbled through the servants' halls, ignoring the curious stares of the staff, until I reached the safety of my room. I burst through the door, desperate to collapse into the shadows and scream.

But the shadows in my room were already occupied.

Alpha Tristan was sitting in my only chair, his long legs crossed comfortably, a predatory and satisfied smile playing on his lips. He was casually going through the small wooden box where I kept my meager belongings—the few things Paige had managed to help me scrounge together. In his hand, he held a delicate silk handkerchief, finely embroidered with small white lilies.

It was Claudia’s. It was one of the few things I had managed to keep hidden during the transition. She had been my Luna, my best friend, and she had died in the very chaos that had cost me my family.

"Get out," I growled, my voice thick with a sob I refused to let him see.

"Is this how you greet your savior, the man who gave you a room with a view?" Tristan asked, his voice smooth and vibrant. The toxin was gone, and his strength had returned in full. He stood up, his massive frame towering over me in the cramped, low-ceilinged space. He tossed the handkerchief onto the bed as if it were a piece of used trash. "I was just admiring the pathetic remnants of your former life. So many little trinkets for a girl who technically no longer has a past."

The grief of Rune’s abandonment combined with the sight of Tristan desecrating Claudia’s memory crashed over me like a tidal wave. I felt a scream building in my throat—a scream for my father, whom Rune had slaughtered, and for the life that Tristan had turned into a nightmare.

Rune. The name was like a hot brand in my mind. He was the man who killed my father, the man who had dragged me into this political hellscape, and now he was the man who had left me to rot because he was too easily fooled by a pile of ash. I took that white-hot pain and the burning hatred I felt for the men who had destroyed my family, and I forged it into a mental blade. I will endure, I told myself. I will stay alive until I can wrap my hands around every single one of their throats.

"What do you want, Tristan?" I asked, my voice suddenly turning cold, hard, and hollow. "If you have nothing of substance to say, please leave my room."

Tristan took a slow, deliberate step toward me, his eyes dark with a new, terrifying sense of possessiveness. "I wanted to see the look on your face when you finally realized the truth. Rune believes you are nothing but ash and bone, Sara. He’s already forgotten your face. You are a ghost to the rest of the world, but you are very much alive to me. You are my secret."

I was thankful Harlan had told me first. I didn't give Tristan the satisfaction of the breakdown he had clearly come here to gloat over.

He reached out suddenly, his hand sliding behind my neck and tangling in my hair, pulling me into a hard, unwanted hug. I went completely stiff, my skin crawling at the contact of his chest against mine. He leaned down, his hot breath ghosting against my ear.

"You’re all mine now," he whispered, a dark promise in his tone. "No more rescue parties. No more 'Conquerors' sniffing at my borders. Just you and me in this house of secrets."

Before I could muster the strength to push him away, his hands dropped lower. His palms were large and burning hot as he squeezed my rear firmly, pulling me closer against his hips in a blatant display of dominance. The violation was a shock—a brutal, physical reminder that he no longer saw me as a prisoner to be punished, but as a prize to be possessed and used at his whim.

"Tristan, stop—"

The door to my room flew open, slamming against the plaster wall with a thunderous, echoing bang.

Yvonne stood in the doorway, her face a mask of livid, vibrating rage. Her eyes landed instantly on Tristan’s hands, which were still resting on me, and then shifted to my face. The air in the small room became brittle, charged with the immediate promise of violence.

"I suspected as much," Yvonne hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. "The Alpha and his 'healer' enjoying a private, intimate consultation?"

Tristan didn't let go immediately. He took his time, his fingers digging into my flesh one last time with a bruising grip before he slowly released me. He turned to face his Right Hand with a smirk of pure, calculated provocation.

"I’m just reminding the help of her specific duties, Yvonne," Tristan said calmly, though his predatory eyes never left mine.

I stood there, feeling physically sick, trapped between a monster who wanted to own me and a woman who clearly wanted me dead.

"This doesn't concern me," I whispered, looking toward the door. "Can I leave?"

The look Yvonne shot me was all the answer I needed. If looks could kill, I would have been the corpse Rune believed me to be.