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I don’t give them any more details than that. I feel almost possessive over our Bond. The idea of allowing anyone a glimpse of its magic who hasn’t earned it yet feels almost blasphemous. It’s mine. Ours.

“And this… er… silver thread. It’s what let you sense him?”

It’s Soren’s friend who speaks up, his voice low and deep with a melodic Scottish accent that feels soothing to my senses. His question doesn’t sound patronizing or dismissive, but at this point I’m hard-wired to expect the worst from everyone, so I keep my answer short.

“I believe so, but I don’t know for certain.”

“So Caelan’s not yer Scent-Matched Mate?”

“No. Not that I’m aware of. Our Bond isn’t a Scent-Match Bond. I don’t know what kind of Bond it is.”

“But when it appeared, you were able to sense yer Mate’s location.”

“Yes.”

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, for the fiftieth time, that is not how Mate Bonds work.”

Honestly, I’d expected Daxen’s patronizing tone to cut me off and interrupt me for a while so his clipped commentary doesn’t come as a shock. If anything, his know-it-all attitude infuriates me the most.

I had no idea someone could possibly be as confidently wrong as Daxen is every single day. It’s exhausting. Has he never thought of just… not talking?

Getting the chance to speak must have loosened my tongue because before I can think better of it, I throw my hands up in exasperation and exhaustion.

“You don’t know that,” I snap. His eyes widen, but I push on before he can talk over me.

“I don’t know when you concluded that being smart and ancient also makes you omniscient, but it doesn’t. You don’t know everything because if you did, you’d know I’m telling the truth about our Bond, and I wouldn’t have spent the past however many days begging my Fated Mate’s best friends to believe I didn’t set a trap so my father could kill him!”

Panting and out of breath, I fall back into my chair. My hands are shaking, and I’m fully expecting Gavran or Vae to lash out at my response, assuming Daxen doesn’t do so himself. When no one says a word to me, I count my blessings and push on, determined to finish telling my side of things.

“It was probably less than three minutes after I woke and realized Caelan was there when my father’s car pulled up in front of the house. I knew right away that something was wrong and I needed to get to Caelan before my father did.”

I swallow thickly, gripping the leather of the chair on either side of my legs for something to hold onto.

“I remember running out of my room and down the hall, screaming at him in my mind to leave. To get out of the house and get away from this place as fast as he could. Either he never heard me, or I wasn’t fast enough, but by the time I got to the foyer, it was too late. My father was already there with his guards, and they had Caelan surrounded. They had guns pointed at him, and I couldn’t⁠—”

A strangled sob catches in my throat, choking off the rest of my words. Fatesdamnit! I’ve tried so hard not to get emotional, and I was doing so well. I’ve relived that night in my mind so many times, but still, the memory rips through me, burning a hole through my chest just like that silver bullet burned a hole through Caelan’s flesh.

“I couldn’t do anything,” I whisper, angrily swiping away a tear that escapes. “I tried to shift their focus to me, but it didn’t—I couldn't—there were too many of them. And I was—I couldn’t think.”

I ignore the steady stream of tears down my cheeks, determined to keep going. I can’t stop now, right when it gets hard. I just need to push back the pain and… talk.

“My father ordered me to come down the stairs. He was smiling, but it was… horrifying. I wanted to tell him no, but that’s what he wanted, for me to fight so that he could punish me. He loves to do that. To push and push just to find out how far he can go before I break—when the threat of an unknown punishment becomes a better alternative to the pain he’s currently inflicting.”

“Gods above,” the Scottish Alpha whispers, and I look up from my lap where my fingers are twisting and pulling at the cotton hem of my shirt. I turn pleading eyes on Soren, begging him without words to understand.

“I had no choice. I had to obey him and try to stall somehow. That’s the only thing I could think of to do.”

“That’s all you could have done,” he replies, tone hard with conviction. He sounds so sure. I almost believe him.

“I went down to the foyer and my father ordered his men to take Caelan's weapons. Caelan let him⁠—”

“Why?”

My gaze snaps to Vaelanor as he repeats, “Why would he just let a handful of human guards unarm him?”

With eyes blurred with tears, I glare at him as I answer, “Because my father’s hand was around my neck and he was choking me.”

Vae hums and looks away, muttering, "Convenient."