LOGINEMBER’S POVMy spine stiffens. I know what this is.He’s going to plead his case. He’s going to explain why Knox should keep him, why the twenty years of service outweigh the sixty-three bodies, why firing him would be politically catastrophic.He’s going to be logical and measured and strategically compelling because that’s what Nathaniel does — he engineers outcomes.And he’s come to me because he thinks I have influence over Knox’s decision, which I do, and he thinks he can convince me to use it in his favour, which he cannot.“If this is about Knox—”“It’s about Queenie.”I stop mid-dismissal.Whatever I was about to say evaporates from my mouth and what replaces it is silence, because of all the things I expected Nathaniel to say in this corridor, that was not one of them.“What?”“I need to talk to you about Queenie.” His voice is different from any version I’ve heard before.This voice has been stripped and sanded until there’s nothing left but the grain underneath, and the gra
EMBER’S POVWhen her eyes meet mine, the dying socialite and the sharp-tongued ex are nowhere to be found. The pretense is over.Underneath it all is just a terrified girl who has worn armor for so long she forgot it wasn’t skin.“So why are you doing this? Why are you selling me hope right now like it’s something I can afford? Why are you trying to make this HARDER? Do you know how hard I’ve fought to get to this place? To this acceptance? I don’t want to go back to the hoping, Ember. The hoping is what kept me awake at three in the morning bargaining with a Goddess who stopped listening months ago.” Her voice drops to a whisper that is barely audible above the heart monitor. “I’m scared. I am so scared, and I have been holding this together with herbs and sarcasm and sheer fucking vanity, and under all of it I am TERRIFIED of what comes next. Of the dark. Of whatever judgement the Goddess has waiting for a woman who left good men at altars and manipulated everyone she ever loved and
EMBER’S POVMy heart twists in my chest.Because of my mother, I always viewed my capacity to love, to forgive, and to unlearn as my absolute greatest flaw.I hated being the kindest person in the room, because it usually meant being the first one taken advantage of.But why should I bear the burden of other people’s cruelty? Why should I crush the one thing most of the world has entirely lost?If there is one thing I know for certain now, it is that some people are worth the extra mile. They are worth the second chance, the kindness, and the forgiveness. It isn’t naivety anymore.My heart finally knows the difference between shrinking down just to please others, and standing firm in my truest, kindest self.“I don’t know what happened between you and Knox in Zürich,” I say. “He didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask, because whatever passed between you two belongs to you, not to me. But I know that something you said or did in those hours is the reason that man shifted on a tarmac and ran a
EMBER’S POVQueenie’s hand tightens on Rayana’s so hard I can see the knuckles whiten.“No. No, no, no. You told everyone six months. You SAID six months, Rayana.”“Six months was the number from three months ago. The disease didn’t get the memo about pacing itself, and my body has been less than cooperative with the ‘fighting it’ part of the programme.” She looks between us and the smile she attempts doesn’t land anywhere near where she aimed it. “Dr. Patel used the phrase ‘aggressive trajectory,’ which is medical speak for ‘start saying your goodbyes.’ And that was twelve days ago. So whatever’s left of those two weeks is…” She waves her free hand vaguely. “Not two weeks.”“Days,” I say, and my voice comes out smaller than I want it to. “You’re talking about DAYS.”“I’m talking about whatever the ‘aggressive trajectory’ has left me, which at this point is less of a timeline and more of a countdown.” She looks at Queenie, who is crying silently with both hands wrapped around Rayana’s
EMBER’S POVI look at Queenie. Queenie looks at me.Neither of us has an answer because the truth is that in the chaos of the Bacchanal’s aftermath — the heat, the compound, the rescue, everything that followed — nobody stopped to check.Queenie laughs.It comes out high and tight and hollow.“Okay, come on. You’re both scaring me right now and I’m not doing this.” She waves her ice cream cup like a tiny plastic shield against the direction this conversation has taken. “Rafael is not alive. He simply CAN’T be alive. We barely made it out of that lodge in one piece, Rayana. Ember was drugged, I was terrified, Knox went full wolf and tore through that man like he was made of paper. You want me to believe that someone survived THAT and is just what, recovering quietly somewhere while we all frolic around Alaska having ice cream?”“Queenie—”“NO. I refuse to accept it. Think about it logically.” She holds up a finger. “If Rafael was alive, why wouldn’t he have come for us already? We slep
EMBER’S POVWe eat terrible ice cream in Rayana’s hospital bed. Three women, three plastic cups, and the steady beep of a heart monitor keeping time like a metronome.And the conversation that follows is the most honest I’ve had with anyone other than Knox.Rayana starts it. She puts her ice cream down and looks at me, and the performative energy drains from her face like water from a tub.What’s left is just a woman in a hospital bed who needs to say something that has been sitting on her chest for weeks.“I owe you an apology,” she says. “About Rafael.”I go still. Queenie goes still.“I brought him into your life. I co-signed that trip. I sat in his living room and drank his champagne and listened to him talk about fate and mate bonds, and I thought he was charming and romantic and I INTRODUCED you to his personal orbit.” She swallows. “He told me things, Ember. About his beliefs about you. About his obsession with the idea that you were his fated mate. And I thought it was sweet.
EMBER’S POV“I want to recover here. In this penthouse. Not locked away somewhere safe and isolated.”And there it is. The trade she’s been building toward.I almost laugh.“You want to stay here,” I repeat slowly. “With us. With Knox.”“You heard me. What part of dying don’t you seem to understand
KNOX’S POVHe blinks, the picture of innocence. “I’m not sure I understand. I explained the purpose quite clearly at the beginning of the evening. Conflict resolution. Closure. An opportunity for all parties to—”“Bullshit.”The word is deadpan, and I see Logan’s head snap up, see Gale’s sobbing st
EMBER’S POVI nod desperately.“Liar.” He pumps into me slowly, his thumb circling my clit with featherlight pressure that’s nowhere near enough. “You’re never quiet. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”“For goddess sake, Knox, please—”“Please what?” He’s smiling now, the bastard. Enjoying
EMBER’S POVI stare down at Knox on his knees, my pulse slamming so hard I can feel it between my legs. He's grinning up at me like a wolf who's already tasted blood, gold eyes glowing, fangs just barely peeking past his lip.I fold my arms, pretending my thighs aren't already trembling."What do I







