Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
The healing chambers are quiet as the silver light of dawn filters through narrow windows carved into the stone.
I’ve been here two days, mostly sleeping as my body purges the last of the silver from my system.
Elena warned I’d have a fever, and the terrible chills then heat finally broke sometime in the night, leaving me weak but clearheaded for the first time since our arrival.
I trace the newly healed skin at my wrists, marveling at how quickly my wolf has repaired the damage now that the silver restraints are gone. The constant burn that had become my companion is just a memory, though sometimes I still wake reaching for the collar that’s no longer at my throat.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. Before I can answer, the door swings open, revealing my brother’s tall frame.
“Dane,” I say, smiling a welcome. “Come in.”
He steps inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
We’re twins, but not identical—where my hair was white-blonde before I shaved it, his is a shade darker, more gold than silver.
His eyes are the same pale blue as mine, though set in a face that’s all sharp masculine angles and stubborn determination.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says, dropping into the chair beside my bed. He picks up one of the maps I’ve been examining.
I snatch it back, smoothing it out on my lap. “I’ve been resting for two days.”
“And Elena says you need at least five more.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “How are you? Really?”
I consider lying, giving him the standard “I’m fine” that I’ve been offering everyone else. But this is Dane—my twin, my other half. He’d know the lie before it fully left my lips.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I escaped, and I start to question if all of this is real.”
He reaches for my hand. “You did, though. You’re home.”
“I know.” I squeeze his fingers.
We sit in comfortable silence. Even as children, we never needed many words to understand each other. After our parents’ deaths, that connection had only deepened—grief making us inseparable.
“I thought you were dead,” he says finally, his voice cracking slightly. “When we couldn’t find you, when the days turned to weeks and then months…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize for surviving. I just—” He breaks off, looking away. “I just wish I’d been there when you needed me.”
“And what? Been captured too?” I bump his shoulder with mine. “You’re lucky you weren’t. You’d have hated the gruel they fed us.”
“But it should have been me in that prison. I’m just a hunter. You’re the Beta.”
I frown. “You’re not ‘just’ anything, Dane. And if it had been you, I’d have torn the mountains apart stone by stone to find you.”
“I tried,” he whispers, and the raw guilt in his voice makes my chest ache. “Every day, I tried. But there was nothing. No trail, no scent, no leads.”
“Zella covered her tracks well.”
His expression darkens at the traitor’s name. “Ryker has hunting parties tracking her movements. When they find her—”
“When they find her, I want to be there,” I cut in. “I want to be the one to end her.”
“You’ve changed.”
“Three months in a cage will do that to a wolf.” I pause, my mind drifting to copper hair and golden eyes. Three months changed me, I think. But what about three years? What was Kier like before they broke him down and rebuilt him into someone who talks to ghosts?
The thought sends an unexpected pang through my chest. I’ve seen glimpses of who he might have been—in his easy humor, his protective instincts, the way he moves with lethal grace despite years of captivity.
But how much of the man I’m falling for is real, and how much is just survival carved into human shape?
What dreams did they steal from him? What hopes did they bury under silver and stone?
The questions feel too intimate, too personal for someone I’m supposed to be keeping at arm’s length. But I can’t shake the image of a younger Kier, maybe less scarred, less guarded, with laughter that came easier and eyes that hadn’t seen quite so much darkness.
Stop it, I order myself. It doesn’t matter who he was. It only matters who he is now.
“It’s more than that.” Dane tilts his head, examining me with the same careful attention that’s made him our pack’s best tracker. “It’s the way you carry yourself. You’ve always been ready for an attack, but this is something else.”
I look away, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Let’s change the subject. “
“Fine. We can talk about the nomad,” he says simply. “Kier.”
My pulse jumps at his name, an involuntary reaction I hate myself for. “What about him?”
“What’s really between you?”
“He helped me escape,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “We survived together. That creates a bond.”
Dane’s expression tells me he’s not buying my dismissal. “Lithia, this is me you’re talking to. I saw how you looked at him when you arrived. How he watches you.”
I sigh, running a hand over my freshly shaved head. The bristle of short hair against my palm is strange after years of long locks.
“It doesn’t matter what it is,” I say finally. “I’m Beta. My responsibility is to the pack.”
“The pack doesn’t need you to be alone. Look at Ryker and Kitara. Their bond makes them stronger, not weaker.”
“That’s different. They’re true mates.”
“And what if Kier is yours?”
The question catches me off guard. My wolf stirs, pressing forward with a low whine of longing that I ruthlessly suppress.
“He’s not,” I say, more sharply than intended. “And even if he was… you know why I can’t.”
Dane’s expression softens. “Because of Mom and Dad?”
I swallow hard. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken from me. I won’t—I can’t risk that again.”
“Not everyone,” Dane says quietly. “I’m still here.”
“And every day I worry that will change too.” The admission slips out before I can stop it.
Dane moves from the chair to sit beside me on the bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “We lost them, Lithia. It broke us both. But hiding from love won’t protect you from loss.”
I lean against him, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability. “It’s not that simple.”
He sighs. “Just… don’t push him away because you’re scared. At least admit to yourself what you’re feeling.”
“And what about Levi?” I ask, changing the subject. “He hasn’t exactly been subtle about his intentions.”
Dane snorts. “Levi’s been in love with you for years. Everyone knew it but you.”
“I knew,” I correct. “I just chose not to acknowledge it.”
“Because of your no-attachment rule?”
“Because he deserves someone who can love him completely.” I pull away slightly. “I’m not that person, Dane. I don’t think I can ever be that person for anyone.”
“Even Kier?”
I don’t answer, which is answer enough.
Dane stands, recognizing when I’ve reached my limit for emotional revelations. “Get some rest. I’ll bring you something to eat that isn’t Elena’s healing broth.”
We both make a face. It might be healing, but it tastes about as good as the gruel I left behind.
“Bring me real meat and I’ll love you forever,” I joke weakly.
He pauses at the door, his expression serious again. “You already do. That’s my point, Lithia. You never stopped loving people. You just stopped admitting to it.”
After he leaves, I lie back against the pillows, his words echoing in my head. My gaze drifts to the empty bed beside mine where Kier had been for the first day. Elena moved him to a guest chamber in the main den yesterday, claiming he was recovered enough to no longer need her supervision.
I hadn’t protested, though my chest had tightened when he’d left. Now the space beside me feels emptier than it should, the silence louder.
You’re being ridiculous, I tell myself. He’s just down the hall. And this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Distance. Space to think clearly without the distraction of his presence.
My wolf disagrees, pacing restlessly beneath my skin. She wants to seek him out, to check on him, to feel his solid warmth beside me as I’ve grown accustomed to over our weeks of travel.
Stop it, I order her. We’re home now. Things are different.
But even as I think it, I find my senses straining to catch his scent, to hear his voice among the distant murmurs of pack activity. Without the silver suppressing her, my wolf is stronger, more insistent in her demands.
He’s ours, she insists, images of our night together flashing through my mind—his mouth on mine, his hands on my skin.
I force the memories away, focusing instead on the pain in my healing ribs and the mission that awaits me once I’m recovered. I am Beta of Shadowmist. I have responsibilities and obligations that cannot be set aside for the sake of whatever this feeling is.
This will pass, I tell myself. These feelings are just leftover adrenaline from our escape. Nothing more.
But as sleep claims me again, it’s his face I see behind my closed eyelids, his name that hovers unspoken on my lips.
And I hate myself for every second of weakness.