# Chapter 11: Ashes

Nobody said anything for a long time.

The rogue lay still on the wet grass. The mist was moving slowly over the lake again, soft and white, like nothing had happened. A bird started singing somewhere in the trees, like the whole world had decided to forget.

But I couldn't forget his eyes, or the way he looked at me. Or his words.

*He wants the silver girl. He's already inside your house.*

"Silver girl," Owen whispered beside me. His freckled face was white. "What does that mean? Why did he look at you like that?"

"I don't know," I said. And it was true. I didn't.

But somewhere deep inside me, in a place I didn't understand, something small and quiet seemed to stir. Like it had heard its name.

Kael stood up slowly. He looked down at the dead rogue, then out at the dark trees across the lake, where the archer had been.

"Mara," he said. "Take Owen home. Then get ten guards out here. I want every inch of that shore searched. Every footprint, every broken branch. Find out where that archer stood."

"Yes, Alpha."

"And Mara." His voice dropped. "Nobody hears about what the rogue said. Nobody. Do you understand?"

Mara looked at me, then back at him. She nodded once.

Then Kael turned to me.

"Truck," he said.

Just one word. Cold and flat.

---

The drive home was silent.

Kael held the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles went white. His shoulder was still bleeding. The red was soaking through the borrowed shirt someone had given him, but he didn't seem to notice. He stared straight ahead at the dirt road and didn't look at me once.

I sat with my hands in my lap. I could still feel the tire iron in them, the shock that went up my arms when I hit the rogue's nose.

After ten minutes, I couldn't stand it.

"Are you going to yell at me?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer.

"Because if you're going to yell, just do it. Get it over with. The silent thing is worse."

Kael stopped the truck so fast that I flew forward against my seatbelt. We were in the middle of the dirt road, deep in the trees. He turned off the engine.

Then he turned and looked at me, and his eyes were burning.

"Do you know what I saw?" he said. His voice was low and shaking. "When I turned around and saw you running at that rogue with a *tire iron*? Do you know what went through my head?"

"Kael…"

"I saw you dead." His voice cracked. "I saw you lying in the grass with your throat open. I saw myself carrying you home to your mother. I saw it all in one second, Sienna, and I couldn't get to you. I was too far away. I was *too far away*."

I stared at him. He wasn't angry. He was terrified.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I can't…" He pressed both hands over his face. "I lost Lily. I lost my mother. I can't lose you too. I won't survive it. Do you understand me? I won't."

Something broke open in my chest.

I didn't think about it. I just reached over and took his hand. I pulled it away from his face and held it tight in both of mine.

"You didn't lose me," I said softly. "I'm right here. Look. I'm right here."

He looked at me. His eyes were wet.

"Owen would be dead if I didn't do something," I said. "He's sixteen, Kael. Sixteen. You would have done the same thing."

"I'm an Alpha. I have claws."

"And I have a tire iron, and a very big mouth."

He made a sound. Half a laugh and half something else. He shook his head slowly, and he squeezed my hand back.

"You're the most stubborn, stupid, brave person I've ever met," he said quietly.

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I'm taking it as one."

He laughed for real then. Soft and tired. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, still holding my hand.

Then I looked at his shoulder. There was a lot of red on his shirt.

"Your stitches tore," I said.

"I know."

"You're bleeding all over your truck."

He opened one eye and looked at me.

"Are you going to tell me that's not how it works?"

I smiled.

"Drive," I said. "I'll fix it when we get home."

---

I stitched him up again in the big white bathroom between our rooms.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub with no shirt on. I tried very hard not to look at his chest. I tried very, very hard. I looked at the cut on his shoulder instead and focused on my needle.

The cut was worse this time. The rogue's teeth had opened it wider.

"This is going to hurt," I said.

"You said that last time."

"Did it hurt last time?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm saying it again."

I poured the alcohol on. He didn't make a sound, but his whole body went tight. I threaded the needle and started.

It was quiet. Just the soft sound of my breathing and his. The light from the window was warm and gold. Down below, somewhere in the house, someone was laughing in the kitchen.

I could feel him watching me while I worked. He wasn't looking at my hands, he was looking at my face.

"What?" I said, without looking up.

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"I'm remembering."

"Remembering what?"

"The first time. In the ranger station. You were so scared, your hands were shaking. But you did it anyway." His voice was soft. "I think that's when it happened."

"When what happened?"

He didn't answer. I tied off the last stitch and looked up at him.

He was so close. His gray eyes were so soft.

"When I knew I was in trouble," he said quietly.

My heart was pounding so hard that I was sure he could hear it.

I put the bandage on his shoulder, very carefully. My fingers stayed on his skin a second too long.

Then I stood up fast and started cleaning up, because if I didn't move, I was going to do something very, very stupid.

"Kael," I said, with my back to him. "What the rogue said. About someone being inside your house. Who do you think…"

"I don't know." His voice was hard again. "But I'm going to find out. I'm going to talk to every person in this house. The staff. The guards. Everyone."

"Please don't tell your father yet."

There was a pause.

"Why not?"

I turned around. I chose my words carefully.

"Because we don't know who it is," I said. "And if the person is listening, they'll know we're looking. Let's wait. Just a little. Until we know more."

He looked at me for a long moment. I could see him thinking.

"Okay," he said finally. "For now."

---

At dinner, Garrett already knew.

Of course he did. The whole town knew by dinnertime that rogues had attacked the Alpha at Silver Lake.

"My God," Garrett said when I walked into the dining room. He got up from his chair and came around the table and pulled me into a big hug. "Sienna. Sweetheart. Are you all right? I heard you saved one of the young guards."

He smelled like cigars and expensive cologne. His arms were warm and strong around me. It was the kind of hug a real father would give.

I wanted to scream.

All I could think about was this morning, him standing at the end of the hallway, smelling my bloody bandage with his eyes closed. *Hello again, little one.*

"I'm fine," I said into his jacket. "Really. Just a little shaky."

He pulled back and held my face in his big hands. He looked into my eyes for a long moment, a long, long moment. His eyes moved over my face slowly, like he was searching for something.

"So brave," he said softly. "Just like your mother."

Across the table, Mom dropped her fork. It clattered against her plate.

Nobody said anything. Garrett just smiled, and let go of me, and went back to his chair.

I sat down. I didn't eat a single bite.

---

That night, I went to my mother's room.

It was late, after eleven. I couldn't sleep. I needed to talk to her. I needed to ask her about the silver girl, and the Moonborn, and the scratched-out face in the locket. I needed to tell her what I saw Garrett do.

I didn't care anymore if she got angry. I needed answers.

Her door was closed. I lifted my hand to knock.

Then I smelled it.

Smoke.

It wasn't wood smoke or cigar smoke. It was the smell of burning paper.

I opened the door without knocking.

Mom's bedroom was empty. Her big white bed hadn't been slept in. But the light was on in her bathroom, and the door was half open, and gray smoke was curling out into the room.

"Mom?"

I pushed open the bathroom door.

My mother was standing at the sink with a box of matches in her hand. In the white sink, a little pile of papers was burning. Old letters, yellow and soft with age. The flames were small and orange, and they were eating the paper, one page at a time.

She looked up at me, and her face went white.

"Sienna! What are you doing here?"

"What are *you* doing? What are those?"

"Nothing. Go back to bed."

"Mom—"

"*Go back to bed!*"

She had never screamed at me like that. Never in my whole life.

Then someone called from the hallway, a deep, warm voice.

"Elena? Darling? Are you still awake? I want to show you something."

Garrett.

Mom's eyes went huge. She looked at the burning papers. She looked at the door. Then she turned on the water fast, and the flames hissed and died. Gray, wet ash swirled down toward the drain.

She pushed past me without a word. She smoothed her hair and her dress, and walked out of the bedroom.

"Coming, Garrett," she called, and her voice was sweet and normal, like nothing was wrong.

The bedroom door closed behind her.

I stood alone in the smoky bathroom with my heart pounding.

Then I looked down at the sink.

Most of the paper was gone, wet black ash. But in the corner of the sink, stuck against the white porcelain, one small piece had survived. It was brown and curled at the edges, and only half burned.

I picked it up with shaking fingers.

The handwriting was my mother's. It was faded and old, like she wrote it many, many years ago. Most of the words were burned away. But one line was still there, clear enough to read.

**Sienna must never know her father was**

The rest was gone, burned black.

I turned the paper over, and my breath stopped.

On the other side, near the very bottom, there were three more words. They were almost eaten by the fire, but not quite.

**…not dead. He's**

And after that, there was nothing. Only ash.