Chapter 28
ROWAN
Changing and sneaking back into the house is, somehow, the easiest part of the night.
I slip in through the front, toss my ruined outfit into the fireplace, and stand guard until the fabric turns into ash.
The flames pop and hiss, spitting out the last of the evidence while my heart races and my eyes dart to every shadow, waiting for someone to step out and accuse me.
I killed someone.
I don’t know how, but I did, and now that I’m not motivated by panic and cover-ups, the reality of it begins to smack me in the face.
Who the hell am I?
I thought I knew. I thought the prophecy was just a possibility, not a death sentence.
That I could keep making my own choices no matter what anyone else said.
But what if one bad moment, followed by another, is all it takes to turn me into exactly what the council fears?
Maybe they were smart to think I needed to be controlled before I ever got to this point.
Now you’re just overreacting, Wolf says at last, her tone clipped.
I climb the stairs, nodding at the housemaid on night duty—Susie, I think—but she doesn’t meet my eyes or say a word.
Did she hide the body from me?
Add paranoia to your list of issues right now, Wolf mutters. We’re going to be fine. You should have told Cade, but what’s done is done.
How can you be so okay with this?
Because I know what we need, and that’s our mate. She says it like it’s a fact carved in stone. He won’t judge us. And if we have to run because of what happened, at least we won’t be alone.
But what will tonight cost me?
For that, she doesn’t have an answer.
When I reach my room, I’m set on a scalding shower—some desperate attempt to wash the memories away, but that plan derails the moment I hear his voice.
“What happened, Rowan?”
Archie stands in the middle of the room, Great Dane-sized, nose twitching as he sweeps the air, his eyes sharp and unsettled.
“Why would you ask that?” I try to sound casual, but this is Archie. He’s been my best friend for more than a decade.
He stalks closer, head lowered, gaze pinned to mine. “Has this place changed you so much that you think you can’t come to me for help anymore?”
The intensity of his stare makes my chest ache, but it’s the pain in his words that nearly brings me to tears.
“I’m sorry, Archie,” I whisper, pleading. “It’s… I just… Can you please let this one go?”
“Are you hurt?” He’s close enough now that his muzzle is almost level with my face.
I shake my head. “Not physically.”
“Did someone say something to you?”
“No. This was all self-inflicted. I swear.” It’s the truth. At least about how I feel now. Any bruises from earlier are already gone.
“Okay.” He steps back, his massive frame shrinking in a shimmer until he’s his ferret self again. He clambers onto the bed and curls into the blanket, likely tired from the evening bug hunt and run I know he’s just been on. “Let’s go to bed then.”
“That sounds perfect,” I admit, meaning every word so long as I can close my eyes without reliving the worst parts of the night. “I just need a quick shower first.”
He doesn’t reply. And that silence hurts worse than any reprimand, because deep down I didn’t really want him to let this go. I wanted him to press until I broke. To make me confess. To tell me everything was going to be okay.
Except I’ve ruined that as well.
With slumped shoulders, I head for the bathroom and scrub myself raw under the hottest water I can stand. At least my skin comes clean, even if the rest of me doesn’t.
Wrapped in a robe, I change into pajamas with shaking hands and crawl into bed.
My body trembles, my teeth threaten to chatter, and I don’t know how to stop it.
The more time that passes, the more I hate what I’ve done.
I hate what I might become. Most of all, I hate the suffocating truth that there’s nothing I can do to take any of it back.
Archie pads closer and curls against my chest, his small body heavy in the best way. His nose presses against my chin as he speaks, voice quiet but firm. “Whatever this is, Rowan—even if you want to fight it yourself—please know you’re not alone. I’m always here for you.”
The tears I’ve been swallowing spill over, hot and relentless. The words tear themselves out of me before I can stop them.
“I killed someone tonight.”
He’s silent for a beat, but then says the exact right thing. “But I have no doubt that you wouldn’t have if you’d had any other choice.”
We leave it at that, and with his love and support surrounding me, I finally allow myself to close my eyes, but I don’t have high hopes for sleep. Not when the bedroom still smells faintly of death and secrets.
By the time sunlight pries me out of bed, my head feels stuffed with wool and regret. I’m on my side, and Archie’s curled in the crook of my arm like a furry paperweight, his steady breathing the only thing that kept me from completely unraveling throughout the night.
I’m tempted to stay here forever, but the house is already awake, and hiding won’t stop the gnawing fear that someone knows.
Well, someone besides Archie now.
Either way, it’s time to face the world. To pretend everything is normal and see if anyone else is doing the opposite.
Archie stirs when I slide out from under him. “You don’t look any better than last night,” he mumbles, whiskers twitching.
“Thanks. Just what every girl wants to hear first thing in the morning.”
“Do you want to talk about what you shared?” he asks, watching me closely.
“Not yet, if you don’t mind.”
He rolls over before coming to the edge of the bed and standing on his back legs. “I’m just glad you trusted me and that you’re okay. Physically, at least.”
I scratch the top of his head. “Me too.”
Once I’ve taken care of getting ready for the day, I head downstairs with Archie on my shoulder. Something tells me he won’t be leaving my side anytime soon, but that’s nowhere near a bad thing.
The dining hall hums with chatter and the scrape of silverware as we approach. The smell of bread and bacon wafting toward me should be comforting, but all it does is turn my stomach. I brace myself and step in, scanning faces like a paranoid fugitive.
Does Liz glance at me too long? Did Iris pause before buttering her toast? Cade’s eyes catch mine, and my heart trips over itself. They know. They all know.
I slide into my usual seat, pretending my legs aren’t trembling. Archie plops onto the bench beside me, his little ferret tail flicking like he’s daring anyone to question his place at the table.
“Morning,” Liz says, offering me a small smile.
“Morning,” I reply, too brightly. My voice cracks like a bad instrument. Smooth, Rowan. Very inconspicuous.
Silence hovers for a second too long, broken only when Archie stretches out, yawning theatrically. “She didn’t sleep,” he announces, as if outing me for insomnia is helpful.
I lightly tap his head, and he squeaks, indignant.
Cade’s brow furrows. “Everything okay?”
Shifter shits. He probably thinks I spiraled over our date, which I’ve hardly been able to think about since, and was actually perfect. Especially since it wasn’t really a date.
Lie. Smile. Do anything but confess there was a body on your floor last night, I coach myself.
“Peachy,” I say, grabbing a piece of bread from the center of the table and nearly tearing it in half. “Just…uh, had a headache from the extra boost.”
Iris’s gaze lingers on me, sharp as ever, but she doesn’t comment. That should ease me, but instead it feels worse. Suspicion wrapped in silence.
I shove a bite of bread into my mouth, chewing like it might smother the panic rising in my chest. No one says the words I’m dreading, but the air feels heavy all the same.
Archie presses closer, his small body brushing my side, and it’s the only thing that keeps me from bolting.
I’m halfway through pretending to enjoy my bread when Liz clears her throat. “You’ve got crumbs in your hair,” she says gently.
I freeze until I realize she didn’t actually say, “You’ve got blood in your hair.” Because that wouldn’t be normal.
I let out a strangled laugh. “Just a little something to add to my appeal, don’t you think? Better than a pink muumuu.”
Iris scoffs and Liz smiles, but Cade doesn’t. His gaze stays locked on me like he can see through the bad jokes, straight to the panic underneath. I pick at my food until it’s nothing but mangled fluff, determined not to look at him.
Archie, of course, fills the silence. He’s also trying a little too hard to remain normal. “She’s always been a messy eater,” he says with a twitch of his whiskers. “You should see her with spaghetti. Sauce everywhere.”
I nudge him gently with my elbow. “Traitor.”
He only shrugs—well, the ferret equivalent of a shrug—and steals a piece of bacon off my plate with his tiny hands.
The table chuckles, but the laughter dies quickly when Cade clears his throat. His expression is darker now, tension carving hard lines around his mouth. “I had a message from Elias this morning,” he says, voice pitched low. “He’s been scouting for me these last few days.”
Iris stills, fork halfway to her mouth. “And?”
“There are murmurs,” Cade continues, “that the council isn’t acting alone. That someone else has been advising them. Guiding them. But no one knows who.”
A chill runs down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the draft in the hall.
“Another faction?” Liz asks, frowning.
“Maybe,” Cade says. “Or maybe not. It’s just a rumor at this point, but one that we should all be aware of.
” His eyes scan the table, lingering on each of us like he’s weighing our reactions.
“Whoever it is, they could be the reason why I wasn’t able to identify the intruders so far.
They’re being shielded by dark magic, and I haven’t figured out how. ”
My throat feels dry as sand. A shadow whispering in the council’s ear. Someone smart enough to stay hidden. Someone who might be sending people to hide in the corners of my room to attack me.
Or someone who has been buying us time.
Because if they fear me so much, why hasn’t the real attack happened? Why haven’t they outnumbered us?
My wolf shifts restlessly, a low hum in my chest, and I know without her spelling it out that this isn’t good. Not for any of us.
They’re testing something, Wolf says. Either you specifically or our group as a whole. They’re being methodical about the attack, which they feel like they have time to do because you’re staying put.
Iris breaks the heavy silence, crunching loudly on a burned bagel. “Well,” she says, “that sounds promising. Love a good faceless mastermind to spice up breakfast.”
Liz groans softly. “Seriously?”
“What?” she protests. “I’m just saying. Better than small talk. Especially with Rowan acting all shifty.”
I force a laugh that comes out sharper than I meant. Everyone’s attention flicks back to me, and I drop my gaze to my plate, wishing I could crawl inside the breadcrumbs and disappear.
“Isn’t a girl allowed to just have an off day?” I mutter, still avoiding each of their stares.
Nobody replies, but I’m not sure if that’s good or not.
Liz and Iris resume conversing about the council, but it’s Cade’s silence I notice and ignore most. I can’t deal with him right now. Not after our shared kiss and not after I broke so easily with Archie.
Nobody else can know what I did.
Unless he already does, Wolf states proudly. He could already be keeping our secret and is the one who took care of the body. Who else would keep it quiet besides him?
She makes a point, but it also might be some whack job who wants to make me go insane.
What’s worse is I’m not sure which option is better.