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My stomach twists with pain. The golden thread that would have bound me to Vaelenor dims further, curling into a tight ball like a kicked puppy.

“That’s enough, Vaelenor,” Gavran snaps. “Any more commentary and you’ll leave.”

Vae turns eyes full of rage toward Gav but stays silent.

“Something happened, and my father got really angry, but I don’t know what exactly. Whatever it was, he took it out on me, and threw me to the ground, and Caelan… just… lost it. One second he was face down on the ground, and the next he was moving— throwing Alphas around like a child mad at his toys. They were dying faster than I could keep up.”

He’d been invisible. God-like. It was the only time I felt like we might have a chance of escaping.

Until it all went to hell.

“I think seeing him fight scared my father. He pulled me off the floor and dragged me across the foyer. Then he shoved me in front of him and⁠—”

I’ll never forget the moment I realized he was using me as a shield. The fear rushes back, and I have to stop. I have to stop, because I can’t breathe. I flex my fingers, hoping that will help my hands stop shaking, but it doesn’t. I reach for my shirt, pulling, folding, and smoothing the fabric until my shoulders start to relax.

Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.

Pack all your emotions into a box. Shove the box away as far back as you can.

Good. Now keep going.

“He started yelling about a gun, then silver bullets. Then I heard a sound like thunder that must have been the gun because suddenly Caelan was on the ground and there was blood on the floor and on his hands and—and—and then I was screaming and⁠—”

My hands drop to my thighs, searching for the slightly softer fabric of my leggings. My fingers swipe and rub along the fabric, up and down in a repetitive motion that I can’t control. I pick at the black fabric, folding the little I can grab, then smoothing it out and folding it and smoothing it out.

This still isn’t right. It’s not right.

The fabric is wrong. Too scratchy.

I need— I need⁠—

I need⁠—

What?

“Idril.” My eyes shoot open at the sound of Soren’s gentle voice. I shake my head, trying to shake away the itching need under my skin. The need for—for⁠—

Something. Something missing. It’s missing, and it’s been missing, and⁠—

And I can’t do this.

I have to keep going. Talk now, fall apart later.

“I don’t remember much after that. I don’t know how I got away from my father, but I did. Then I ran for Caelan. I remember that. Running for him and screaming at him.

“I don't remember what I said, but… the words didn’t really matter. I just knew I needed to do something to startle him. Just for a second. Just so that when I lunged for him, he’d fall instead of catching me.”

Daxen shoots to his feet, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “Why the fuck would you do that? He was injured! You could have made it worse!”

I blink. Slowly. My eyelids feel like they weigh fifty pounds.

“Because there was an Alpha behind me. And he was about to shoot. If I hadn’t done something to get Caelan down, that bullet would have gone straight through his head.”

“What then?” Gavran looks like he’s on the edge of his seat, like he’s been waiting for days to hear my side of the story. It makes me irrationally angry.

“When I got close to him, I threw myself at his chest, and he fell back as I’d hoped. I don’t know if it was because he was startled, not expecting it, or what, but I remember this… this overwhelming sense of relief.”

“I don’t think he even registered the second shot until he was on his back, looking up at me. I think he was mad that I threw myself in front of the bullet, but he would have been a lot more mad if he knew how close the bullet actually came to hitting us.”