LOGINMy name is Callie Lockwood, and for two years, I paid for a crime I didn't commit. I was the beloved daughter, the doted-on sister, the girl promised forever by my childhood fiancé Liam. Then Rowena came back from the dead, the family's real blood, and I became the mistake no one wanted to admit they'd made. They gave her my brother's love. They gave her my fiancé. And when she killed a werewolf noble, they gave her my freedom too. Two years in a cell built for monsters stripped me of everything, even my wolf. I came out a shadow of who I used to be, wanting nothing but to walk away and owe my so-called family nothing. But shadows have a way of being noticed. Two of the most powerful Lycan royals in the kingdom want my attention, and neither one is asking twice. Now the family who buried me alive wants forgiveness. My brother wants his sister back. Liam wants to know why he ever let me go. It's too late. They just don't know it yet.
View MoreChapter 54. Taken From the LoftA loud noise was heard close to the house. Callie was awake before the second ounced. She'd been awake most of the night anyway, lying on her side on the floorboards with one hand on Posy's back, feeling it rise and fall. Third rung. Fourth. Too heavy for Petra. Too many feet. She sat up.Grey light came through the round window. Posy was asleep on the tick, her mouth open, the green storybook face down on her chest where it had slid off. A head came through the hatch. An old man. White hair, fur-lined collar, eyes like two flat stones. Elder Marcus.He climbed up slowly, one knee and then the other, and stood stooped under the beams. Two guards came up behind him. Pack crest on their sleeves. Clubs on their belts. Callie's stomach dropped. She didn't stand. She didn't move at all, except to put herself between the hatch and the tick in one slow shift of her shoulder."Callie Halveth," Marcus said."Elder.""There's a child in
Chapter 53: Rowena Hears of the ChildPeter's study door was shut. Rowena stood outside it with her hand raised, the words ready. Peter, I'm frightened. Callie's hiding something in the old wing, and I think it's to do with Mother. She heard him inside. Pen scratching. The creak of his chair.That was what he'd said at the foot of the loft ladder, without even turning round. One word, flat, the way he said it to the dogs. Rowena lowered her hand. If she knocked, he'd say it again. And then she'd have asked, and been refused, and he'd remember that the next time. She went back down the corridor.Fenna was waiting at the turn of the servants' stair, twisting her apron. "Miss. I've found it out. What she's got up there." Rowena drew her into the linen alcove and pulled the curtain."Tell me.""The scullery girl saw her. Last night, late. Miss Callie went up the old wing ladder with a bowl of soup and a candle. And she heard talking up there after. Little voice." Fen
Chapter 52. Liam's DoubtFenna's slate sat on the stable bench between them, covered in small, careful chalk. "Tuesday," Fenna said. "Garden at dawn. Madam's room at nine, near the tea tray. Linen room after lunch. Old wing, twice, before supper.""Near the tea tr BBay," Liam said. "Yes, sir. Standing right by it. Miss Rowena said to watch for that especially." Liam looked at the slate.Tuesday at nine he'd been in the stable yard with the farrier, arguing about a cracked hoof. Callie had come out of the kitchen with a basket of scraps for the dogs and walked straight past them. He'd watched her go. He'd watched her for a full minute and hated himself for it.She'd been in the yard at nine. Not in Madam's room. "You're sure about nine?"Fenna's chalk stopped. "Near enough, sir.""Near enough to what?""It was by nine, or after. It's hard, with the bells."Liam picked the slate up and read further.Thursday. Gone with Della. Not back with cart. Back after da
Chapter 51. The Voice in the WallThe west wing was colder than the rest of the house. Nobody had lit a fire down here in years. Soren walked it barefoot. He'd left his boots by the bed side. The boards were old. Some of them creaked. His wolf knew which ones before he did and kept his weight on the joists.The phone stayed against his ear. She was breathing quick and shallow, the way you breathe when you're holding still in the dark, listening for feet. He made sure she didn't hear his.The corridor bent left. At the end of it was the study door, with candlelight under it. He stopped three steps away. Every part of him wanted the latch. He didn't touch it.In the bakery alley she had knelt on the cobbles with her hands out and waited. She hadn't grabbed. She'd let the child come to her. If he went through that door now, she'd be gone before he got it open. So he stood in the cold in his shirtsleeves, three steps away, and listened. Through the phone came a long brea
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