Page 105 of Inextricably Tied

An ache runs rampant in Harbinger’s chest, flooded with the girl’s final remnants. Anger. Panic. Pain. Fear. So much fear pounding through her body, covering a tiny shard of hope.

“Harbin.” Flint’s voice reaches her through the sob threatening to break through her lips. “Harbin, tell me —”

“Give me something else.” She opens a palm on the ground, clutching the horn in the other. “Give me something else I can read.”

Flint rummages around him as far as the chains allow. “I’m going to throw it near your left hand.” The object clatters through the dirt. “If you stretch your fingers a little further, you should reach it.”

Harbinger strains until she gets her gloves around it. “What is it?”

“A necklace. It was caught in my chains — prepare yourself,” Flint reminds her. She takes a steadying breath and touches the necklace to her skin.

Memories engulf her. She dives through them, trying to make sense of the visions, but there’s no mistaking what happened. Her voice croaks out, fingers tightening around the pendant.

“Diction is dead.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

Harbinger

The necklace leaves an indentation in Harbinger’s cheek. “This was Diction’s. The pack chained him up down here, because…” She plunges back into the memories, translating to Flint as scenes stampede past.

“Are you out of your mind?” Diction drapes the necklace over his head, turning away from his dresser. “You caught a man burying bodies in our territory, and you just — let him go?”

“He made an offer.” Something acidic eats away at Char’s expression. “If we let him use our land, he’ll bring the girls alive, so we can bond them —”

“I don’t care what his offer was! That’s grotesque.” Diction shakes his head, avoiding Char’s gaze. Avoiding the root of the problem. “Don’t mention this again. If anyone finds out…if he comes back, we have to turn him into the Conclave. Understood?”

There’s so little power in it. Already, the cracks begin to show. Char doesn’t respond, pushing off the doorframe and slamming the door behind him.

Harbinger surfaces from the vision. “That’s what Lev meant about the pack conflict. Diction didn’t tell anyone, because he was ashamed. They had problems before, but he never thought they’d actually…”

Her mind darts out to catch another memory.

The necklace bounces off Diction’s chest as he bounds down the back staircase. A hush falls over the Broadleafs gathered near the distant tree line, resentful eyes and hardened jaws as he approaches.

“What’s this about?”

There’s no answer.

Diction raises his voice. “What’s —”

“You know what it’s about,” Char spits. “We want to take the offer.”

It’s unbelievable. From the house, the final pack members follow: Diction’s beta. His mate. The rest of his inner circle. The few people left with any sense of morality.

“We discussed this, Char.” His feet grind into the dirt. “We’re not getting involved with a murderer.”

“Our pack is small. Weak.” Among the majority of the pack, Char looks eerily in control. “You’ve gotten by being a shitty leader, but the Vestals are getting stronger. It’s only a matter of time before they come for us. Either we’re strong enough to fight them off, or we join them. It’s time you start thinking about the pack you claim to hold in such high regard.”

“Char.” Hair lifts on the back of Diction’s neck. Behind Char, the pack members begin to circle. “We will not take part in it. That’s final.”

Claws flick out on Char’s hand, echoed by every Broadleaf beside him.

“We’ll see about that.”

“So they killed their own Alpha?” Flint tries to fit the pieces together. “They cannibalized themselves?”

Harbinger dredges herself out of the bloody clash. “They got rid of anyone who disagreed: Diction, the beta… They trapped them all down here and gave them a chance to flip. When most of them wouldn’t…” She rests her head against the ground. “That’s why they’re so chaotic; there’s no one in charge.”