Chapter 7

Chapter 7

ELENA

Chapter 7

ELENA

He didn't turn around.

He stayed on his knees in front of my mother's grave, one hand still pressed flat against the dirt. The wind moved through the apple trees above us. A few dry leaves fell and landed on the fresh soil.

"Answer me," I said.

My side was burning where the rogue's claws had torn into him. Into me. I held my hand over the scratches and felt warm blood seep between my fingers. I didn't care. I only cared about the man kneeling in front of me.

"How do you know her name?"

"It's on the marker," he said quietly.

"Don't." My voice cracked. "Don't do that. You didn't read it. You said it like you knew her. Like you were sorry."

He was silent for a long time. Then he stood up slowly and turned to face me. There was blood running down his ribs, and ash on his face, and something in his gold eyes that I didn't understand. Something that looked almost like pain.

"She helped me once," he said. "A long time ago."

"Helped you how?"

"That's all I can tell you right now."

"Right now." I laughed, and it came out broken. "Not yet. Right now. Is that all you ever say?"

He didn't answer. He looked past me, at the rows of graves.

I looked too. Twenty-three wooden markers. Twenty-three names carved into them by hand. Wildflowers on every one, a little wilted now.

A cold feeling crept up my spine.

"Who buried them?" I asked.

He didn't look at me.

"The graves. Someone dug all these graves. Someone put flowers on them." I took a step toward him. "Who?"

"I did."

The word hit me like a slap.

"You're lying."

"The night I brought you home," he said. "I came back. I didn't want to leave them lying in the street."

I stared at him. I tried to picture it. The alpha of the Blackthorn pack, alone in the dark, digging grave after grave with his bare hands. Carrying little Sam from the bakery. Carrying my mother.

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Monsters didn't bury their dead. Monsters didn't pick wildflowers.

"Why?" I whispered.

"Because somebody had to."

My knees started to shake. The world tilted sideways. I had run all day with the bond tearing at my chest, and I had lost too much blood, and I had just seen my mother's name carved into a piece of wood. My body had nothing left.

The last thing I saw before I fell was Kade moving toward me.

I woke up to the sound of his heartbeat.

It was right under my ear. Slow and steady. I was being carried. His arms were under my back and my knees, and my head was resting against his bare chest. It was dark now. Stars were out. The trees moved past us in black shapes.

I should have fought him. I should have screamed.

But the pain in my chest was gone. Being this close to him, the bond had gone quiet. Warm. For the first time in days, I could breathe without it hurting.

I hated how good it felt.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was still asleep.

We reached the pack house near midnight. Torches were burning by the big wooden gate, and there were people waiting. I heard voices. Then one voice rose above the others, warm and relieved.

"Thank the moon. Is she all right?"

I opened my eyes a little. A man was walking toward us through the torchlight. He was tall and lean, with light brown hair and a kind, handsome face. He wore a dark coat, and his left hand was wrapped in a white bandage.

"She's hurt," Kade said. "Rogues found her in the village."

"Rogues?" The man's eyebrows shot up. "That far south?"

"Three of them. One got away."

"I'll send a patrol at first light." The man looked down at me, and his face softened. "Poor thing. She looks half dead."

For some reason, a shiver went down my arms. I didn't know why. He was smiling. His voice was gentle. But something deep inside me went cold and small, like a rabbit hiding in the grass.

"Elena," Kade said. "This is Silas. My beta."

Silas smiled wider. "Welcome home, Elena. Nobody will hurt you here. I promise."

I didn't say anything. I turned my face into Kade's chest and closed my eyes again. I told myself it was just the blood loss. Just the exhaustion.

Hilda was waiting in the bedroom. The window had already been fixed with new glass. She clicked her tongue at the sight of me and made Kade set me down on the bed. Then she chased him to the far side of the room and told him to turn around.

"Arms up," she said to me.

She peeled the torn, bloody shirt off me and helped me into a clean nightgown. Something slipped out of the shirt pocket and dropped onto the floor with a small clink.

My heart stopped.

The silver pin.

It rolled across the wooden floor and stopped right by Kade's foot.

He bent down and picked it up. I watched him turn it over in his fingers. It was a small crescent moon, no bigger than my thumbnail, with a tiny sharp clasp on the back.

His whole face changed.

It went white. Completely white. His fingers closed around the pin, and for a second, he didn't breathe.

"Where did you get this?" he asked. His voice was very quiet.

"It's mine," I said.

It wasn't. I had found it in the ashes of my mother's house. It wasn't there before the fire. I had never seen it in my life. But I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anyone here.

He looked at me for a long moment. I could see him thinking. I could see a hundred questions in his eyes.

Then he walked over and put the pin in my palm. He closed my fingers around it.

"Keep it hidden," he said. "Don't show it to anyone. Anyone. Do you understand?"

"Why?"

He didn't answer. He turned and walked out of the room.

I lay there with the pin in my fist. Hilda was watching me with a strange look on her face. She didn't ask. She just cleaned the scratches on my side, wrapped them in bandages, and gave me a cup of bitter tea that made my head heavy.

"Sleep," she said. "Sleep, child."