The forest is too quiet.
Towering trees stretch toward the night sky, their branches weaving together like skeletal fingers, blocking out most of the moonlight. But I don’t need the moon to see. My heightened senses pick up every shift in the shadows, every rustle of leaves beneath our steps, every distant heartbeat of unseen creatures lurking nearby.
Jack’s sister moves effortlessly through the darkness, as if she belongs to it. I trail behind her, my senses sharp, my guard up. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone–except, for some reason, Fury.
She may have freed me from that cell, but that doesn’t mean I owe her anything. For all I know, she could be leading me straight to my death.
I steal another glance at her, noting once again the striking resemblance to Jack. The same silver eyes. The same confident stride, as if she owns the very ground she walks on.
“So,” I say casually, though I’m not joking, “you’re not secretly kidnapping me, are you? Or, I don’t know, leading me somewhere to have me killed?”
She laughs–a real, genuine laugh that echoes through the trees.
“If I wanted to kill you,” she replies, turning to face me, “you wouldn’t have even seen my face.”
Iarch a brow.
She smirks. “I wouldn’t come myself. Too risky. My cover would be blown when my brother starts investigating.” Then, her expression softens, just a fraction. “Besides, why would I want to kill my brother’s mate? I can’t watch him be in pain a second time.”
I stiffen.
The words a second time claw at something inside me.
I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Jack’s first mate.
The question burns on my tongue, demanding to be spoken. But I bite down on my lip–hard–until I taste blood, forcing it back. I refuse to ask. Refuse to show any interest in his past. It shouldn’t matter. I don’t care.
I force my legs to keep moving.We walk in silence until she stops abruptly.
I blink up at the largest tree I’ve ever seen. It towers over everything, its thick roots twisting into the earth like ancient serpents. The trunk is massive- wide enough to fit an entire house–its bark gnarled and knotted with time.
Then–she murmurs something under her breath.
A door materializes within the bark, seamlessly forming before swinging open.
I stare.
She doesn’t miss my reaction. “I’m not a witch,” she says before I can even ask. “But that doesn’t mean only witches cast spells.”
That’s not exactly comforting.
Still, I follow her inside, my breath hitching as I take in the space.
“I come here when I want to escape reality.” Her voice lowers, something distant creeping into her tone. “And I know you needed it, too. That cell must’ve been overwhelming. I know how it feels… to be locked away.” She exhales, gaze unfocused. “Even if it’s not physically.”
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