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Soren’s eyes soften, and he hesitates before exchanging a heavy look with Caelan. And I know. I know the words he’s going to say before they even come out of his mouth.

Reality fractures, and I’m suddenly two versions of myself. The twenty-two-year-old woman in a derelict basement and the young girl sitting at the dinner table with her father, surrounded by the trappings of wealth. My father’s words overlap with Caelan’s. Cruelty and kindness. Empathy and contempt

“Idril,”

“Little Omega.”

“Your mother’s dead.”

“She’s gone, sweetheart.”

A whine tears up my throat, and I struggle to shift out of Caelan’s arms. He places me on my feet, and I scramble for the stone raised just a few feet away.

I turn, exhaling a breath of relief when I see both Alphas right behind me. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to be away from either of them right now.

I step up, and what I see nearly brings me to my knees.

She’s right there—my mother. Eyes shut and a soft smile on her face—one I’ve never seen in all the years we were together. Peace, maybe?

Her chest is still. Unmoving. She looks like she’s sleeping, but she’s not, is she?

She’s dead.

The moment I say the words in my head, something inside of me breaks. I fall to my knees as every ounce of my strength drains away.

I have the most visceral sense that I’ve lost something vital. There’s a gaping hole in my heart—in the universe—where she should be. But there’s nothing left of her. Nothing but me… and whatever answer she left buried beneath the willow tree.

Everything becomes a blur. I don’t remember how I got here, but I’m sobbing into Soren’s chest, Caelan pressed against my back, whispering soothing words against the crown of my head.

I don’t care about what the other Alphas are doing. I don’t care if they want to leave, or ask questions, or discuss the fire, or anything else.

All I can do is cry. So that’s what I do.

Sandwiched between my Mates, I cry and cry until I can’t cry any longer. Time disappears amid my grief. Seconds, minutes, hours… none of it computes. Nothing feels real. Nothing tethers me to this world but the strong arms wrapped around me and the steady heart beating against my back.

For however long it takes to cry myself to sleep, not a single one of the Bastards so much as move an inch or make a sound while I’m lost to my grief. I don’t know if it’s simply because they don’t know how to react or if they’re actually offering my mother a modicum of respect, but they stand silent vigil guarding her body as I fall apart.

Illuminated by the glow of the mysterious gift inside of me that my mother left behind.

Chapter 21

Daxen

There’s a flock of birds in my room.

It’s the only logical assumption I can make without opening my eyes to verify. I specifically chose a room set up so that my bed was as far away from the windows as possible, knowing that otherwise, the birdsong would wake me up in the mornings.

So why, in the name of all the Fates, can I hear the sound of what must be dozens of the little fuckers chirp-chirp-chirping and trilling their heads off? And why does it sound like they’re doing their we’re just happy to be alive routine right next to my head?

With a groan, I force my gritty eyes open and lift my head⁠—

Or try to.

I make it about two centimeters when I realize the side of my face is stuck to something. When I reach up to rub the sleep from my eyes, I slam my left hand into something hard, which sends pain shooting up my forearm.

“Fuck!”

I sit up and peel the entire left side of my face off whatever it’s been stuck to—which at this point I’m seriously starting to think is duct tape.