Chapter 11 #3
“Maybe what?” My voice is sharper now because something about this conversation is making me deeply uncomfortable. “You want me to risk everything we’ve built to chase after something I’ve told you is impossible?”
“No, of course not.” He reaches out and takes my hand, his grip just a little too tight. “I love you as you are, Astra. I just want to make sure we’re not missing any opportunities.”
His words ring hollow, and the way he’s looking at me is kind of creepy. Like he’s calculating something, weighing possibilities I can’t see.
“I don’t understand why you’re bringing this up again,” I say quietly. “I was honest with you about what I can and can’t offer. If it’s not enough—”
“It is enough,” he says quickly, but I can hear the lie underneath his words. “You’re enough. I just…I worry about you being happy. About whether you’ll regret giving up that possibility.”
The manipulation in his words is so subtle I almost miss it. He’s trying to make this about my happiness, about my potential regrets, when this is clearly about his own disappointment.
After he leaves, I sit alone in the small room with Luna, feeling more confused and unsettled than ever. The Andrew I thought I knew would never push like this, never try to convince me to pursue something unattainable and perilous just because he wants it.
I awaken to the sound of soft knocking at my door. My body feels heavy with exhaustion, and for a moment I can’t remember where I am. Then it all comes back—Turnville, Andrew, this cramped room that’s supposed to be my new beginning.
“Astra?” Andrew’s voice carries through the door, but there’s something different about it. An urgency. “I need to speak with you.”
I glance at my watch. It is well past midnight. Luna lifts her head from where she’s curled up on the bed, her ears twitching with unease.
“It’s late, Andrew,” I call back, pulling my blanket tighter around myself. “Can’t this wait until morning?”
“It’s important. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Meet someone? At this hour? My instincts prickle with warning, but I push the feeling aside. This is Andrew. Sweet, gentle Andrew.
“Give me a minute,” I say, sitting up and slipping into my clothes. Something feels wrong, but I can’t put my finger on what.
When I open the door, Andrew’s smile is too bright, too wide. There’s a gleam in his eyes I’ve never seen before—excitement mixed with something that makes my stomach clench.
“Perfect timing,” he says, stepping aside to reveal the man behind him.
The hair on the back of my neck instantly stands up.
The stranger looks like a businessman, but the wrong kind.
Everything about him is too much—too many rings crowding his pudgy fingers, too many gold chains that catch the lamplight at his throat, too much greased hair combed over a balding pate.
His clothes are expensive but gaudy, and when he smiles, his teeth are too white, too perfect.
There’s something fundamentally unclean about him, like corruption wearing a respectable suit.
“This is Mr. Blackwood,” Andrew says, his voice taking on an obsequious tone I’ve never heard before. “He’s come a long way to meet you.”
“In the middle of the night?” My voice comes out smaller than I like. “Andrew, what’s going on?”
“Business, my dear,” Blackwood says, his voice oily smooth. “Very profitable business.”
Andrew’s entire demeanor has changed. Gone is the gentle man who brought me flowers this morning. In his place stands someone eager, hungry, practically vibrating with anticipation.
“This is the wolf I was telling you about,” Andrew says, gesturing toward me like I’m livestock being presented for inspection.
The word “wolf” is a punch to my gut. The casual way he says it—like I’m just some animal, like I’m his property—makes my blood freeze. Andrew knows about me. He has always known exactly what I am.
“I don’t understand.” I back toward the window, Luna hissing softly in my arms as Andrew and Blackwood follow me into the room. “Andrew, who is this man? Why are you—”
“Don’t be shy.” Andrew’s voice carries a sharp edge now. “Mr. Blackwood has traveled very far specifically to meet you. The least you can do is be polite.”
The way he says it—like I’m being unreasonable, like I owe this stranger something—is downright offensive. This isn’t the Andrew I know. This isn’t the man who promised to love me and protect me.
“I think there’s been some misunderstanding,” I say carefully, edging toward the door now. “I should probably go—”
“There’s no misunderstanding,” Blackwood interrupts me, rings clicking as he gestures dismissively. “You’re exactly what I was told you’d be.”
Andrew beams like he has just received the highest praise possible. “I told you she was perfect. Look at her—young, healthy, proven bloodline. Prime breeding stock.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face. Breeding stock. That’s what I am to him? Every tender moment, every gentle touch, every whispered promise—it was all leading to this? I feel like I’m falling, like the ground is disappearing from beneath my feet.
“Andrew, I want to leave. Now.”
“Oh, but you haven’t heard Mr. Blackwood’s offer yet,” Andrew says, moving to block my path to the door. “It’s quite generous.”
“Offer?” I gulp.
Blackwood’s smile is positively lecherous. “I collect rare things, Miss Lakan. Beautiful, useful things. Your specific bloodline makes you quite valuable for my purposes.”
“Bloodline?” My voice cracks. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play coy,” Andrew says, and there’s irritation creeping into his voice now. “We both know what you are. What you can produce.”
“Produce?” The room starts to spin. “Andrew, what—”
“Children, of course,” Blackwood says matter-of-factly, adjusting one of his gaudy rings. “Full-blooded shifters born into human captivity. There’s quite the specialty market for that sort of thing.”
I stagger backward, Luna’s claws digging into my shoulder as she senses my distress. Every memory is rewriting itself in my mind—Andrew’s interest in my past, his questions about my family, his gentle insistence that I should trust him completely.
“You’re insane,” I breathe. “I can’t have children. I told you that. The magical laws—”
“Those laws apply to willing exile,” Blackwood corrects me with clinical precision. “Forced capture is an entirely different matter. The magic recognizes the difference.”
Andrew nods eagerly. “I’ve done extensive research. Had experts verify it. Your children will be full shifters, completely suitable for my client’s...particular interests.”
My heart is breaking apart in my chest. Every sweet word he ever spoke to me, every kiss, every promise of love—it was all a lie. He never saw me as a person. I was always just a means to an end.
“What do you mean?” I’m inching toward the window now, away from Andrew, desperation clawing at my throat. “What kind of interests?”
“Collectors,” Blackwood says simply, polishing another of his rings on his jacket. “People who appreciate unique, valuable things. Your offspring will be well cared for, I assure you. Fed, housed, trained...”
“Trained for what?”
“Entertainment. Protection. Companionship.” His oily grin widens. “Whatever their masters require.”
The full horror crashes over me like a tidal wave. They’re talking about slavery. About breeding me like a show dog and selling my children to be pets, toys for the wealthy and twisted.
“No!” The word rips from my throat. “Absolutely not! Andrew, how could you—”
“How could I what?” His gentle mask slips completely now, revealing the ugliness underneath. “Give you exactly what you wanted? A way out of your miserable life?”
“This isn’t what I wanted!” The pain in my chest is unbearable. This is the man I thought loved me. The man I was going to marry. The man I trusted with everything.
“Isn’t it?” He steps closer, crowding me against the wall. “You came running to me, desperate and pathetic, begging for someone to want you. Well, congratulations. You’re wanted.”
“By slave owners!” Each word is a knife twisting in my heart. Desperate and pathetic. Is that really how he sees me? How he has always seen me?
“By people with very deep pockets,” Andrew clarifies. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been cultivating this opportunity? How many years I’ve spent earning your trust, learning about your bloodline?”
Years. He has been planning this for years. Every moment of tenderness was calculated. Every smile was a lie.
“You never loved me,” I whisper. The words feel like they’re tearing me apart.
“Love?” Andrew laughs, and the sound is cold and cruel.
It’s nothing like the warm laughter I thought was his.
“You really are naive, aren’t you? I’ve been grooming you since the day we met.
Every kind word, every gentle touch, every promise of marriage—all of it was designed to get you exactly where you are right now. ”
I feel like I’m drowning. The man standing before me is a stranger wearing Andrew’s face. Each memory I have of happiness, of feeling wanted and loved, crumbles to ash in my mind.
“But I saved you from that shadow bear…”
“Which was so convenient,” he says with that same cruel smile.
“I’d been trying to figure out how to get close to you for months.
A shifter, living alone, collecting herbs?
I knew you had to be valuable. But I needed a way in, needed you to trust me.
When that bear attacked me and you saved my life, it was perfect.
Instant gratitude, instant bond. You practically threw yourself into my arms after that. ”
The betrayal cuts even deeper. He took my act of kindness, my genuine desire to help someone in danger, and twisted it into a weapon against me. The very moment that I thought proved he was good, that I thought proved I was right to trust him, was just another tool in his arsenal.
“I thought—” My voice breaks. “I thought you cared about me.”