Chapter 6
ROWAN
Malrik’s voice is as sharp as the gleam in his eyes while he towers over my tired, barely still standing form. “Again.”
Therapist, kidnapper, drill sergeant. This monster holds many titles.
We’ve been standing in the center of the training hall for what feels like hours, though time doesn’t move the same here.
At least it didn’t feel like it based on the way my stomach is growling.
There’s no clock, no windows, just the slow, steady pulse of the sigils beneath our feet.
The air thrums with the weight of expectation and him.
My skin prickles with a tension I can’t shake as I straighten to face him. “You know, when you said we were going to work on control, I thought that meant self-control, not emotional torture.”
“Control is nothing without pressure,” he replies smoothly. “You’ve only accessed your power in moments of fear or rage. We’re going to change that.”
“By making me angrier?”
His lips twitch. “If that’s what it takes. Maybe you need more motivation.”
He extends a hand, and the room feels like it’s shifting. Light gathers in the space between us, brightening until I have to squint. A shape begins to form—four-legged, massive, shoulders rippling with strength.
It’s a wolf.
No. Not just any wolf.
Cade’s wolf.
I recognize him instantly. The dark russet coat, the deep golden eyes that see only me, the impossible stillness in his stance. My throat goes dry.
A part of me acknowledges that this isn’t really Cade, but it’s close enough that my chest aches in that unfathomable, hollow way that only grief can carve.
The breath leaves my lungs before I can stop it.
My pulse stumbles, torn between relief and pain, because even an imitation of him feels like salvation and punishment all at once.
I’m sorry, Cade. This is all my fault.
Damn it, he looks so real. Every detail, down to the way his ears flick forward, the way his eyes burn that molten gold, like his stare alone is enough to make the world feel safe again.
My mind betrays me, filling in the rest—the heat of his body against my skin, the weight of his hand on my back, the sound of his voice when he says my name like I’m something worth fighting for.
I haven’t let myself succumb to the ramifications of the decision I made when I didn’t fight harder against the influence, when I accepted Malrik’s offered hand. I couldn’t because I knew it would break me if I truly faced what I walked away from.
Now, I have no choice.
I want to step closer, to bury my fingers in that fur and feel the steady pulse of life beneath it, to believe that Cade knows how much I regret my choices, that he’s still out there somewhere, searching for me.
But I don’t move forward.
Like the cruel bitch that reality is… I know this isn’t my mate. Cade isn’t here. He can’t be. This is Malrik’s doing. A mirage designed to break me open and see what spills out.
My throat burns. You’re not real. I want to say it aloud, but the words stick like thorns in my mouth.
The simulation takes a step toward me, and I swear my body forgets how to breathe. My hand lifts on its own, reaching for what my heart refuses to let go of.
Every instinct screams don’t, but grief is louder.
For a heartbeat, the distance between us disappears.
And in that heartbeat, I let myself believe—just for a moment—that everything’s going to be okay.
Somehow. Someway.
Malrik’s tone softens, almost gentle. “Give in to the pain, Rowan. Don’t let it control you. Don’t fight it. If fear isn’t how you command what’s inside you, then pain is all I can offer. The sooner we get through this, the sooner it ends.”
His words are somehow kind, but I don’t believe for one second that he has any sympathy for me now.
“Make this go away.” The words scrape out of me before I can stop them. “This isn’t funny.”
“Humor isn’t the point,” he says, staying too calm. “Focus on what you feel.”
“I feel like setting you on fire.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “Now don’t fight it.”
The energy in the floor sharpens, thrumming up through my bare feet. The air grows thick, charged, until every breath tastes like lightning. Cade’s wolf lifts his head, eyes burning amber, and something inside me splinters.
Imposter.
Like twin flames, pain and fury rain over me, and this time, I don’t hold back. I don’t want to. I just want this nightmare to end.
The power beneath my skin stirs, restless and hungry. It’s responding to him—to the memory of us.
Not real, I remind myself, grinding my teeth.
Malrik’s voice slides through the static in my head. “He’s calling for you, Rowan. Can you hear his pleas?”
The imposter-wolf growls softly, low and mournful, and my knees nearly give in.
“Stop this,” I snarl, torn between tearing this artifice to pieces and weeping against his body.
“Stop what?” Malrik’s tone is mild and clinical. “You can end this whenever you wish. Just let go.”
I hate him. I hate this house. I hate what I’ve become. Worse, I hate the part of me that knows Malrik is right.
I have to let go. I have to control whatever’s in me because I can’t ever hurt the people I love again. I can’t put them in danger merely because I’m a risk. If I can master this, even if it benefits this dark stranger, then maybe it will be worth it because it will also keep the others safe.
Maybe there will be peace at the end of all this instead of destruction.
Yet, something is still holding me back, and the more I resist, the louder the pulse within me becomes, like something inside recognizes the pull, begging to be used.
I am safe. I can’t hurt anyone I love from here. I have to do this. For me. For them.
I repeat the words over and over again until the terror of what I am starts to diminish.
Pressure builds throughout my body, beginning in my chest and spreading out. If I don’t release whatever this is, there’s a decent chance that I might actually explode.
Possibly out of sheer self-preservation, I finally find the detonate button. Deep in my core, I understand that I can let go. More importantly, I have no choice.
The power slams through me, the intensity making me wonder if my veins might actually burst from the force, but somehow, I’m still standing.
The runes, as Malrik finally called the etchings beneath my feet, flare, causing fire to lick up my legs.
The not-Cade wolf starts to tremble, his form dimming as warmth rushes through my extremities, wild and alive.
Finally, I reach forward and touch him, reminding myself this isn’t my mate. I would never hurt Cade. I’m not the monster the others feared I’d be.
I can’t be.
I refuse to be.
Yet, the moment my fingers skim over his fur, I latch onto his energy. It drives into me. Like I’m siphoning the core of who he is.
Not real, not him.
I close my eyes because I can’t watch myself destroy even the facade of my mate, and that helps in more ways than one. Not only do I avoid the torture of seeing the task at hand, but I also put my attention on my other senses.
There’s a tether within me that wraps around my chest and extends through my outstretched arm. A black rope-like tendril exits from my palm, and I can picture it wrapping around Cade. Only it’s not out to destroy. It wants to heal.
Confusion fills me, but before I can dissect the emotions, I taste something smoky. It hits my senses like a slap to the face, and it’s enough to prove to all aspects of my brain that I truly am okay.
In fact, the tighter I tug on this energy, the more I realize I’m also latching onto Malrik. There’s no other possibility because no one else is in this room.
I keep myself rooted to the moment, analyzing his magic.
He’s definitely Ashmark like he said before, but he’s not like me. He’s more made-magic than born-magic. I don’t know how I know this, but I can taste the truth. It’s right there, and if I can just pry a little deeper, maybe I can—
Like a fragile branch breaking beneath the weight of a storm, the connection snaps. I open my eyes, expecting to find a furious Malrik given I was snooping, but instead he’s…slow clapping? Seriously?
“Very well, my dear,” he applauds. “You’re learning faster than I anticipated.”
I swallow hard, trying to catch my breath and pay close attention to what he’s not saying, but his face is a shield. I see nothing other than approval in his eyes.
Fake Cade is also gone. I don’t know if I actually destroyed him, but I don’t care. I’m tired and ravenous, and I’ve had enough.
“Great,” I say with a stiff nod, wiping my sweaty palms over my hips. “Can I be done now?”
Malrik doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches long enough that I start to think he’s doing it on purpose—testing how long I’ll stand here before I crack. The energy of the room simmers, like even the magic is waiting for his permission to breathe.
Finally, he exhales through his nose. “For today.”
I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until the words release me. My knees go weak, but I steady myself before I drop. The runes beneath us fade to a dull, quiet glow, no longer pulsing in time with my heart.
He moves with the same deliberate calm he always does, crossing to a small table tucked against the wall.
There’s a decanter there—one I didn’t notice before, but that’s probably because he just conjured it—and he pours himself a glass of something dark and amber.
“You surprise me, Rowan,” he says, swirling the drink without looking at me.
“I expected more resistance, but you gave me resolve.”
I wipe a shaking hand across my forehead. “You conjured my mate and told me to kill him. ‘Resistance’ was kind of implied. But I’m glad I impressed you.”
My tone is as dry as the Sahara. He either misses that or just chooses to ignore my sarcasm.
“But at least you survived.” He turns back to me, that faint, infuriating smile curving his mouth.
“Survived isn’t the word I’d use.” My voice comes out raw as I take a step toward the door. “But sure. I’ll take the pat on the back after the magical beatings. Positive performance reviews are what I live for.”
He swirls his untouched glass. “Even tattered threads can be rewoven into something stronger. Consider this the beginning of your repair.”
I want to laugh, but it comes out more like a broken sound in my throat. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Yes.” His answer doesn’t hold an ounce of shame. “And now that you’ve taken your first step, you’ll rest. The Keep will see to your needs. Food, water, warmth. You’ve earned it.”
“I didn’t ask for a reward.”
“No.” He tilts his head. “But you need one. Even a blade must be cooled after being forged, or it cracks.”
I hate that his logic almost makes sense. I hate that I’m too tired to fight it.
The door to the training hall opens soundlessly, a draft curling through the air. Beyond it, the hall glows faintly, waiting for me like a living shadow.
I hesitate. “What happens if I say no to all of this? If I don’t want to do this again tomorrow?”
Malrik’s eyes catch the dim light, turning them to quicksilver. “Then you’ll stay in your room until you change your mind. But I doubt you want to find out what happens here to those who disobey.”
My stomach drops, and I decide not to ask what he means.
Instead, I walk. Every step is heavier than the last, the ache in my limbs settling deep in my bones. I don’t look back, but I feel his gaze follow me all the way to the threshold.
When the door closes behind me, the silence presses in, thick and humming. My body feels both hollow and too full, like I’ve been emptied of something vital and replaced with static.
I press my hand to my chest, expecting to feel the beat of my heart. It’s there, but so is something else.
My stomach roils. Is that the essence of Malrik?
Hell, I hope not.
Yet, as I think the words, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I can beat him at his own game.
I connected to his energy through not-Cade. If I can reach him once, I can do it again. Maybe I can turn Malrik’s power against him. If that’s what my ability is, if unmaking the supernatural is my destiny, then it starts with Malrik.
And just like that… I have a new purpose.
Allow this man to beat me into shape for as long as it takes me to master what’s inside of me.
I can do this. For me. For Cade. For my family.
I can stop whatever nightmare Malrik tried to create through me.
I can be better than the prophecy.