bChapter /bb75 /b

We leave Zion’s room in silence. No one speaks. Not until we’ve crossed the threshold of the pack house and are deep enough in the woods that even the shadows feel safer than Tris‘ halls.

“Tell me we’re not actually considering believing them,” Noah finally saysb, /bvoice low, furious.

“They had my nket,” I murmur, fingers curling at my sides. “Zion kept it.”

“That doesn’t meanb…/bb” /bbXavier /bstarts, but stops when I nce at him.

“I don’t want to believe him either. I don’t want any of this to be realb, /bbut

it bis/bb./bb” /b

Levi ces a steady hand on my back. “We need more. A nketb, /ba vision, or whatever… It’s not enough to know what’s happening. We need proof. We need that witch.”

“Salira,” I whisper.

“Where would Marcus keep her?” Haiden asks. b“/bbIf /bshe’s as dangerous bas /bthey said, she wouldn’t be allowed to roam free.”

“Somewhere deep,” Xavier answers, jaw tight. “Protected. Likely enchanted.”

“He used her to lock my memories awayb,/b” I say. “There’s a chanceb… /bshe still has a tether to my mind.” I nce at Noah. “Is that possible?b” /b

He frowns, thinking. “There could be residue. Traces.” He meets my eyes. “But if we try to extract it, it’s going to hurt.”

“I can handle painb./bb” /b

“You don’t understand,” Noah bsays/b. “We’ll have to pull apart the boundary between what you remember and what is locked. You’ll be reliving every sensation. Every fear.b” /b

“Do it.b” /b

Xavier growls low under his breath. “Envy…b” /b

“I need answers. No more pieces. No more half–visions or twisted memories. I need to see what she took from me.”

Levi nods slowly. “Not tonight, you’ve been through enough. First, we eat and then we rest properly.”

Levi’s words hang in the bair/bb, /bheavy and final.

bXavier /bspeaks his voice gravel. “Let’s run home, Maddox wants out.”

The others nod. One by one, their bodies blur, me, shadow, and lightning shing through bone and bfur/b. Hellhounds emerging. Lexhale slowly, grounding myself. My skin splits, but it doesn’t hurt. It bsings/b. Fur spreads across my limbs like smoke given formb. /bMy ws dig into the earth and Layah breathes with me.

“iWe /ineeded iout /iiof /ithereb, /bshe murmurs, “iThat /iice /iiwas /ibipoison/i/b.”

“It still is“, I reply, ears flicking back as the others fall into formation beside me, “And we’ll ihave /ito go iback/i.”

i“/iiI /iiknow/i.” She huffs. We run. The wind rushes bpast/bb, /bcarrying bthe /bscents of moss and ashb, /bof old blood and distant me. The forest peels away around bus/b, parting like it knows not to stand in our way. The trees groan under the bweight /bof our presence but inside me, the storm churns. iHe /isaid iI /iwas a iweapon/i, I think.

i“/iBecause ithat’s /iall ihe /icould see, Layal answers. “They ialways /iifear /iwhat they don’t understand. So they name it. Cage it. Twist it until it fits their vision of controlb./b”

“And iI /ilet them.”

b“/bYou were a childbi“/i/bbi, /i/bshe growls. “Now you iare /inot.”

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1:02 PM P bP /b

“Do you ithink /iihe’s /iiright/ii?/ibi” /i/bI ask.

Layah is quiet for a moment.

“I ithink /iipower /iilike /iiours /iiwas /iinever /imeant to ibe /itamed iand /iiwe /iwill do great things.b” /b

i“/iiAre /iiwe /iidangerous/ii? /iA irisk/ii?/ii” /i

i“/iiEverything /iis. iBut /iiyou /iidon’t /iibe /iidangerous /iiwhen /iyou imark /ithem, iEvelina/i. iYou /iialready /iiare/i. iYou /iijust /ihaven’t istopped /iiapologizing /iifor /iit.

That hits harder than I expected. I don’t answer. The moon rises higher above the treeline, painting the canopy in crimson light. The others are close, Xavier ahead, always watching; Levi steady to my left; Haiden a blur of fire and grace behind me; Noah running at my side, silent but present.

“iYou /iithink /iithey’ll /iistill /iwant me iwhen /ishit ihits the /iifan/i?” I ask quietly.

Layah’s voice is a low, rumblingugh. i“/iiThey /iialready /iiknow /iienough/ii. /iiAnd /iithey’re /istill ihere/i. iRunning /iibeside /iiyou/ii. /iiReady /ito ifight /igods ifor /iiyou/ii./i”

I look ahead. The trees are thinning. Beyond them, the outer ridge of the Red Moon Pack glows like the breath of a hearth fire, warmb, /bsteady, waiting. Home.

“I ihope /iso,” I whisper.

We break the tree line and cross the warding stonesb, /bpaws hitting soft earth as the packhouse looms in the distance.

The run slows. mes retreat. bFur /brecedes. One by one, we shift backb, /bbare feet on dewy grass, lungs heaving, hearts pounding with something more than exhaustion.

The Red Moon packhouse greets us with warmth and silenceb. /bNo questions. No judgment. Inside, the lights are low. Food waits on the long table, stew still warm, bread freshly torn, fruit and salt and honeyed tea. The quiet kind of offering that says we see iyou /iwithout demanding anything in

return.

Haiden presses a cup into my hands and nudges me toward the armchair near the fire. “Sit. Before you fall over.b” /b

bI /bsit. The fire cracklesb. /bMy legs feel like they’ve been hollowed out and filled with ash. The others move around me in quiet choreography, Xavier near the door, pacing like he doesn’t trustfort. Noah, with his head leaned back, eyes closedb, /bprocessing the shit showb. /bHaiden returns with more food. Levi disappears into the kitchen for btea/bb, /bprobably adding something calming to it and me? I just breathe.

bi“/i/biLayah/ii?/ib” /bI whisper inside.

bi“/i/biStill /iihere/ii“/i, she murmursb. /b

i“/iiI /ibifeel /i/bilike /iI’m icracking/i.”

i“/iiGood/ib. /bLet it icrack/ii. /iiYou’re /inot bimade /i/biof /iiss/ibi. /i/biYou’re /iimade /iiof /iifire /iiand /istone and fury. iLet /iit ibreak /iwhere it needs to. iWe’ll /iistill /ibe ihere/i.”

I close my beyes/b. The cup warms my palms. The fire warms my soul,

Levi returns and presses a different mug into my hands. “Drink all of it.”

I don’t ask what’s in it. I trust him. I bsip /bslowly. Bitterb, /bearthy herbs hum faintly at the back of my tongue. After ba /bwhile, the silence shifts. Not heavier. Not lighter. Just more alive.

“I hate this,” Noah says finallyb, /beyes still closed.

We all Took at himb. /b

hate that this feels normal now. Breaking into your own memories like we’re criminals. I hate that she bhas /bbto /bprove what was done to her.”

He doesn’t look at me when he bsays /bit, but I know bhe /bmeans me.

“I hate it too,” I bsay /bquietly.

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