Mag-log inSHARON’S POVJordan Pack council chamber smelled exactly the way I remembered: cedar oil, old parchment, beeswax candles, and the faint metallic bite of wolf anger held barely in check. I stepped through the tall double doors with Morris at my side, his hand rested low on my back, it was not possessive, it was just there, steady. The same hand that had held me together when I screamed for dead children who weren’t dead. The same hand that would steady me now.The long table stretched down the center of the room. Twenty-three elders were already seated. Their faces I hadn’t seen in years, some looked older, while some looked exactly the same. All of them watched me walk the length of the aisle like I was a ghost wearing someone else’s skin.Sandra sat at the far end in chains. She had iron cuffs on wrists and ankles. Her black gown was replaced with plain gray prisoner linen. Her hair was loose and tangled. And her eyes were red-rimmed but burning. When she saw me she jerked against th
SANDRA’S POV The moment Sharon dropped the hood I felt the air leave the hall. My face went from smug to blank in half a heartbeat. My lips parted, but no sound came out. My eyes locked on Sharon’s, her wide, glassy eyes stared back at me. My pupils were blown black with disbelief.She took one step forward in one pace like a ghost. “Hello, sister.”The word cut through the sudden silence like a thrown knife.I jerked as if I’d been by Sharon. One hand flew to my throat, as my fingers clawed at the silver torque. My chest heaved once, twice. This was a dream. This has to be a dream, it certainly has to be. Please this can’t be happening here. “No,” I whispered.She took another step forward like the ghost of her that traumatised me every single night. I stumbled back into the nearest table as a goblet tipped and dark wine spilled across the white cloth like blood.“No,” I said again, louder this time. “You can’t do this here, please. Don’t do this. Let me go, I didn’t kill you. I
SHARON’S POV I woke Darius with a bucket of ice water.He came up choking, lungs seizing, body jerking hard against the ropes that cinched his wrists to the iron chair legs. Water streamed down his face, soaked his shirt, and dripped onto the bare concrete. The single bulb overhead swung lazily, throwing his shadow long and jagged across the wall. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, then froze when he finally focused on me. Morris stood three paces away, arms folded, face carved from stone. Kelly leaned against the far wall, chain coiled loosely in one fist, expression calm in that way that always made people sweat.Darius tested the ropes once. Found them solid. Then he laughed—a short, cracked sound that died fast.“So it’s real,” he rasped. “You’re real.”“Very.” I stepped closer. “And still breathing.”He coughed water from his lungs. “Thought the ghosts finally finished me off.”“They almost did.” I crouched so our eyes met level. “But you’re here. Talking. That mea
SHARON’S POV Moonlight turned the quarry road silver and sharp. Gravel crunched under my shoes even though I tried to step soft. The night smelled of pine resin and wet stone, somewhere far off an owl called once, low and lonely. My heart slammed so hard I tasted metal in the back of my throat.Morris’s voice still echoed in my head from an hour ago, rough and pleading in the dark of our bedroom.“Don’t do this, Sharon. Please. I can’t watch you walk into that clearing alone.”I had pressed my forehead to his chest, felt his heartbeat race under my palm.“Nothing’s going to happen. I’ll be back before you finish the second cup of coffee.”He hadn’t laughed. Just held me tighter until my ribs ached.Now I am here.Alone.The plan felt clever when we mapped it out on the kitchen table. Darius was cracking, he was tormented with seeing me everywhere. If the real me appeared, alive, whole, speaking, he would either collapse or spill everything. Either way we will win. Either way Sandra’s
MORRIS’ POV The study smelled of cedar smoke and the sharp herbal tea Sharon kept brewing for Thorne. I stood at the tall window, watching the last of the daylight bleed out of the sky while Elias Crowe sat rigid in the armchair opposite the desk. He looked thinner than the last time he came begging for his family’s lives. His eyes were sunken, and his hands restless on his knees.He spoke the moment Kelly closed the door behind him.“Sandra sent me in,” Elias said without preamble. “She told me to slip past the outer patrols, get eyes on the main house, the children’s wing, anywhere I might catch a glimpse of your wife or the kids. She wants proof they’re really gone. She said the silence from this side feels wrong and too quiet. She said there have been no grief fires and no retaliation ever since you lost your wife and kids. She’s starting to think Darius lied about the whole thing.”I turned slowly. “And what did you see?”“Nothing.” Elias spread his palms. “Because there’s nothi
SANDRA’S POVI paced the length of the private solar, wineglass forgotten in my hand until the liquid sloshed over the rim and stained the cuff of my sleeve crimson. Darius sat sprawled in the high-backed chair near the hearth, one boot propped on the fender, staring into the flames like they owed him answers. He hadn’t spoken much since he arrived. He just nodded when I poured him a drink, then fell silent again.It’s been five days now. Five full days since he told me Elder Thorne was handled, and not a single rumor about his dead body had crawled out of the council quarter. Nobody has been dragged from the river. No servant has rushed in screaming over a corpse in the woods. No frantic search parties lighting torches along the old trails. Nothing, just absence. Clean, perfect, and impossible absence.I stopped in front of him as I set the glass down hard enough that the stem rang against the marble table.“Where is the body, Darius?”He didn’t flinch, he just lifted his gaze slowl







