Chapter 24
Soren
The Travelers Council has a headquarters only a few blocks up from their Bryant Park location. My stomach spins like a washing machine as our cab pulls up to the curb. Fergus steps out behind me, resting his hand on my shoulder. I’m grateful for his company. I need his support today.
After getting my account of what happened and Cartwright’s confession, the Council has agreed to reopen my case. I hate that my future with Lyall rests in their hands, especially after how it was handled last time.
“Breathe, boy,” Fergus says as the elevator carries us to the thirtieth floor.
“I’m trying.” My heart’s racing like a damn racehorse. I skipped breakfast this morning, too worried I’d get sick with nerves.
“You have nothing to hide. Cartwright is gone and you still have your memories. They’ll review the evidence, and the truth will come out.”
He’s right. Of course he is. I’m just scared of getting my hopes up. What if Cartwright wasn’t the only source of corruption? Can I really trust these witches to try me fairly?
The doors open, and we step out into a waiting room where a small crowd has already assembled. Recognition slams into me, halting me in my tracks. Anders dips his head in acknowledgement while Jamie grins and hurries over.
“Hey. What are you guys doing here?” I let Jamie pull me into a hug, grateful for the support.
“To support you and Lyall.”
My heart trips over itself. “Is he here?” Over Jamie’s shoulder, I notice a few other people, surprised I recognize them. One of them is big and blond with a rugged beard. That has to be Wulfric. Beside him is a slightly shorter man with ginger hair. He takes Wulfric’s hand and leads him over.
I force myself to breathe as the pack Alpha who exiled me stops only inches away. I always thought I was tall, but Wulfric is huge, and the sour expression on his face is far from welcoming.
“Soren?” the shorter man asks with a friendly smile. I nod, and he extends a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kieran. This is—”
“Wulfric,” I say, reaching out slowly to Kieran. “I recognize you.”
Wulfric looks down at my hand, like he isn’t sure if he should bite it off or not. Kieran elbows him, and Wulfric clears his throat. “And I, you.” I shake Kieran’s hand, then Wulfric’s, pulling away more quickly than is polite.
Wulfric’s brow furrows. “I… know what you must think of me.”
“Do you?” Anger snuffs out my nerves, making my nails bite into my palms.
Wulfric rubs the back of his neck. “I won’t excuse the choices I made. There were many ways I could have handled what happened. What I did wasn’t fair to you or my brother.”
His solemn tone is pretty convincing. It will take time for me to trust him, but at least he seems sincere. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
There’s a low growl nearby, and I freeze in panic when Gunnar approaches, flanked on all sides by men and women.
His arms are bound behind his back, and a muzzle is strapped to his skull.
Wulfric puts a hand on my shoulder and urges me closer to him and Kieran as the guards escort Gunnar past us.
Just before they enter the big double oak doors, Gunnar looks over his shoulder at me.
Wide silver eyes, narrowed in rage, find mine and then the door slams and conceals him from sight.
Wulfric exhales beside me. “I hope Arlo will be able to help him…”
The name is oddly familiar.
“Soren?”
At the sound of that voice, so small and hopeful, the noise in my head just stops. Throat thickening, I look up and Lyall’s there, two cups of water in his hands. Tears fill his eyes, his face a mirror of the joy and sheer relief coursing through me.
The cups of water hit the floor, soaking into the carpet when I pull him into a hug so full of desperation, it makes my chest ache. Lyall’s arms fly around me, holding me to his chest. “Gods, I missed you,” he says, cradling the back of my head.
“I’m here. Not going anywhere,” I say into his shoulder.
Lyall’s here. He’s okay. We’re together, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it stays that way. This man is my forever, the big damn love story I’ve been looking for, and I’m never letting him go without a fight.
Taking my face between his hands, Lyall presses his lips to mine in a kiss so hard and fierce, it takes my breath away. We’re both breathing hard when we break apart for air. Lyall nuzzles his forehead against mine. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tears lining his lashes. “I should have—”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m all right. We both are.” For the first time in the days since we were separated, I feel hopeful. I take his hand and kiss his palm. “We’re together. All we need to do is speak our truth to the Council, and then we’ll have our whole lives together.”
Lyall’s lips tremble when he smiles. “Aye. Together.”
“Erikson Pack? Fergus and Soren?” An older woman in a business suit enters from the double doors.
“Present,” Wulfric says.
She holds the doors open wider. “I am Councilwoman Harding. Please come inside and take a seat.”
Just like that, my nerves come rushing back. If they didn’t give me a fair trial last time, who is to say I will get one this time?
Lyall squeezes my hand. “Whatever happens, Soren, I’ll find you again.”
A lump rises in my throat. “I know.” I hold his hand, never wanting to let go.
Inside the room are several benches facing a tiered stand.
There are at least ten council members seated in the stands.
I take a seat beside Lyall with Fergus to my left while Lyall’s pack find seats around the room.
Gunnar is already seated in the back between two guards, muzzle removed but arms still bound.
Councilwoman Harding bangs her gavel. “This meeting is in session. Do you consent to share the memories of the events that occurred prior to your exile with the Erikson Pack?”
How will they react? Wulfric seemed remorseful, but that doesn’t mean he’ll believe my side of the story. Lyall puts his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into the comfort offered.
“I do, Councilwoman.”
She motions to the empty seat beside her. “Then be seated.”
Knees a little shaky, I approach the chair and lower myself into it. When a man wearing a golden torc like all the other council members approaches my chair, I grip onto the armrests until my knuckles whiten. What if this is a trick? What if they take my memories all over again?
“Relax, please,” the man says. “I’m going to touch the back of your head. You’ll feel a slight tingling sensation and some lightheadedness. This is all normal.”
I look at Lyall and exhale slowly. “Go for it.”
The witch’s hand clasps the back of my skull. A tingling feeling spreads from where he touches me down to my toes. My instinct is to bolt, but a wave of dizziness hits me, making me close my eyes as the room tilts.
“Traitor!”
My eyes fly open. Men and women in antique clothes form a circle below the stands. They’re transparent, like how ghosts look in movies.
“I-It’s true,” says a voice. My voice. In the center of the circle is my past self, hands raised as the crowd advances on him. “I used you filthy beasts! All of you. I was never your pack. My real family was always the one Alpha Erik stole me from!”
“No… this isn’t true! It can’t be,” says a much younger Wulfric, shoving through the crowd to face my past self. “Tell me you didn’t do it, Soren.”
“I did, and I did it alone. Lyall had nothing to do with it. He’s always been weak. Soft. I knew if he found I was meeting with my father, he’d rat me out.”
I wince at the harshness in my own voice. It’s no wonder the pack believed me. I’m not making a good case for my own innocence.
Wulfric shakes his head, chest heaving. “So… all this time you were just pretending?”
My past self barks a laugh. “I did what I had to in order to survive until my real family could rescue me. As if I could ever live side by side with animals.”
Wulfric stumbles back, one hand going to his stomach.
“My family is dead because of you!” a younger Gunnar shouts, lunging forward, only to be restrained by his aunt and another pack member. “Let me go! I’ll rip the flesh from his bones!”
“Kill him!” another roars. The crowd erupts into chaos, running at my past self, shouting curses.
Wulfric puts himself in front of me and brings the pack to attention with a roar that rattles my eardrums. “Enough! Anders, put him in the basement. Make sure he can’t escape. I will decide what to do with him.”
Anders grabs my past self by the scruff of his neck and hauls him out of view.
That was hard enough to watch, but I know the worst is yet to come.
There’s an unpleasant numbing sensation at the base of my skull as the memory plays on until we arrive at the moment Lyall finds me in chains.
It breaks my heart all over again to see the pain in his face as my past self explains what I’ve done.
I glance at the faces of the council members, trying to tell by their expressions if they believe what I told Lyall.
It’s hard to tell. Many of them watch the memory play out as if they’re watching a dull documentary. Some take notes. I’m relieved to see at least one council member dab her eyes with her sleeve.
“I think we’ve seen enough,” Harding says, hands laced on her desk.
The witch removes his hand from my head, and the irritating tingling sensation finally goes away, leaving behind a dull throb that isn’t much better.
In the seat below, Lyall watches me, hands in fists, eyes full of desperation.
Behind him, Wulfric has his head hung low, Kieran’s hand on his shoulder.
Gunnar catches my eye, but the anger I was expecting isn’t there.
There’s a slump in his shoulders, a bitter twist to his lips.