Chapter 23 #2
The Council was a group of werewolves, witches, and daimons that lead our country. All of the territories and political branches defer to them.
“Morgan, my father was on the Council.”
My eyes widen at the implication. I sink back, thinking through everything he’s told me.
Sylvan’s expression is void of any emotions. “Sorry, I should have been clearer when explaining this. I was raised to become one of the Council leaders. Not just a territory leader.”
“But . . .” I shake my head. “I . . . How have I not heard about this? I vaguely remember there being a werewolf leader who stepped down—”
“He did not step down. He was slaughtered.” Pain steals the light from his eyes. “As was his family. And then I lived the rest of my childhood in the wild, and when I turned eighteen, they exiled me from that territory so that I wouldn’t try to become a leader.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “What do you mean the wild?”
“My territory is along these mountains, but much further south. I lived out in the forest. It was only like six years.”
“Sylvan . . . What? Why weren’t you placed with a family—”
“Because they thought I was dead. I was supposed to be dead. I have a friend . . . Jarod. His pack kept me clothed and fed, but I was a threat to them, so I never lived with anyone.”
“Who cares if you were a threat? Why wouldn’t he have—”
“He took care of me, Morgan. He did what he could.”
“But our winters are terrible. What about the snow? What did you do when it snowed?”
“Built a fire,” he says softly. “And hoped for the best.”
Tears blur my vision and I stand up. I can’t sit still with this knowledge. Why has he never told me about any of this?
“Exile was the best thing to happen to me. I was able to come into the real world. I decided I would become a lone wolf and pick up odd jobs here and there.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Not so bad anymore.”
I spin around to face him. “Why do you keep this all locked inside?”
“It’s my burden to carry. But now you know why I cannot take a mate.”
Pain slices through my chest.
“I’m in exile,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
His eyes shine as he looks up at me. “And someone killed my family. They’ve gone after Zach before, but he can hold his own.
But a mate . . . Zach told me that the darkness we saw has been in the Ridge for a while.
Other omegas have gone missing. He said that your curse could be my fault, and maybe it is, Morgan.
Maybe these things hunting you are connected to my pack, and they want to take you because of me—”
I clamp my hand over his mouth gently. “Stop,” I whisper. “Stop. You cannot take the blame for a curse that’s been around for generations.”
He circles his fingers around my wrist and I step closer until I’m between his knees. I wonder if he’s going to push me away.
I don’t want him to push me away.
He tugs me a little closer, and I wrap my arms around his head, holding him against my chest. My heartbeat slows down to a normal rate, and I hope his does too.
“None of this is your fault,” I say.
“There are omegas being taken,” he murmurs. “In territories I would have protected.”
“And that’s not your fault either. You didn’t create whatever this darkness is.
” I run my fingers through his hair, and I’m so tempted to kiss the top of his head.
But being intimate with him like that always opens the door to wishing for more, and he’s just reminded me why we can never truly be together.
Why, even as mates, our fates are so incredibly fucked.
“Why hasn’t the Council informed the public about this?
Why is no one talking about the kidnappings?
There are twenty-one territories in our country, and yet I haven’t heard about any of this before now.
Do you think that book is right? Could the Hex still be open? ”
“I don’t know. I think the Council covers up a lot.”
“That’s why you’d be a shitty leader for them, huh? You wouldn’t just sit back.”
He snorts and tips his head back, looking up at me. “You have a point. And to be clear, I am not actually cut out for that role. I never want to have that sort of power over people.”
Which is exactly why he’d be good at it. But, I decide to agree with him. “Plus, you’re way too much of a broody alphahole.”
“You’re right about that too.”
We smile at each other.
“Thank you,” he says, his tone turning serious. “I’ve never told anyone all of this. And I’m worried that you even knowing puts you in danger.”
“I’m already in danger,” I sigh. “From myself and the rest of the world, apparently. But your secrets are safe with me. I . . .” I wish we would have met years ago.
“Me too,” he murmurs.
He heard my thoughts.
“This bond is pesky,” I say.
“It is,” he agrees. “I think . . . Well, I think we would have been friends as children. I also think I could have terrorized your grandmother.”
“She would have turned your fur pink.”
He barks out a laugh and pulls me back onto the couch. I laugh with him and lean my head on his shoulder.
He’s right though. We would have been friends. Best friends. And it would have been so much easier then.
I’m a little jealous of fated mates who find each other so young. I’ve heard the bonds are even deeper because it begins in friendship and grows together.
Sylvan would have been exactly like the werewolf I always wished would take me away. Especially after my parents’ death. At that though, I scowl.
“How many years ago did your parents die?” I ask suddenly.
“Hmm . . . It’ll be twenty years in January.”
Twenty years is such a long time, but then again, I know that from firsthand experience. My parents died almost twenty years ago . . .
I sit forward. “When exactly?”
He tilts his head and studies me. “It was the first full moon of the year.”
I suck in a breath. “The Wolf Moon.”
Sylvan goes completely still. He opens his mouth, but no words come out.
“My parents died that month too,” I say. “It’ll also be twenty years in January.”
He rubs his face. “Do you think . . . ?”
It was too much of a coincidence to not be connected. “Yeah. Maybe the same people killed my parents. I don’t know. Their deaths were so . . .”
Normalized? I remember feeling like I was the only one in shock. I was terrified and heartbroken and suddenly in the hands of a grandmother who didn’t even shed a tear at their funeral, and told me I was weak for doing so.
“I really . . . really hate Maeve right now,” Sylvan whispers. “If they were connected, and we don’t know if they are, then I do think there’s more to . . . well, everything.”
“I agree,” I breathe out. “I feel like we need a drink.”
Two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey appear on the small coffee table in front of us. Sylvan and I both snort together, but then I wave my hand at the house.
“Thanks, Tabby,” I say.
“I can never tell if she’s with us or against us.”
“I don’t think she knows,” I sigh. “She’s a giant cat with doors.”
The house creaks in response and I smile, even though I feel like we’re sitting right on the edge of answers to questions we’ve been asking ourselves our entire lives. But I also feel like we’ve put a crack in the dam. Whatever is happening around us, it’s big. And I don’t like that at all.
“Foxglove witches have always been cursed,” Sylvan says. “But . . . Why? Where did the curse come from?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “You’d think we would have been rewarded given the sacrifice to close the Hex, but . . .”
“If it was closed.”
He has a point.
“Maeve’s death is suspicious.” He pours us each another shot. “She was in good health. Then she told me to take off. Left me a letter of instructions and an insane paycheck. I think all of this money was for you. So I can provide for you.”
I bristle. “I do just fine for myself. Well, when I had my job. And my apartment.”
“I know,” he says. “But I think she planned this. She planned something.”
“Then we’re probably more fucked than either of us realize.
” I take the second shot, and then pour a third.
It’s loosening me up. Although getting drunk around Sylvan .
. . It’s a bad idea. There’s only one direction this could go, and eventually we’ll get tired of talking about the danger we’re possibly in.
“She really hated me. And I hoped she had some sort of cosmic reason for it. Truly. I used to dream that one day I’d discover I’m actually a powerful witch and that she did this all to protect me, but that doesn’t change the abuse. ”
“It doesn’t,” he agrees. “Nothing can atone for that. I don’t care what her intentions were.”
I relax even more. Anytime she comes up, he always makes me feel a little better, even if it’s just him listening and affirming me. Sylvan melts the tension in my chest.
“For once, I wish she were still alive,” I say. “Just so I can ask her what the hell she was thinking.”
Sylvan chuckles and reaches over. His fingers intertwine with mine and we just sit there in the silence.
And we sit like that until I fall asleep next to him. Safe. Always safe with him.