Chapter 53

Raven

My fingers nervously twisted the edge of my blanket as I stared up at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come to me that night, no matter how much I willed it to come. My mind kept whirling, grappling relentlessly with the fact that I was alive.

Alive. While she wasn’t.

Hannah’s face flashed before me every time I closed my eyes—the wide, shocked look as she staggered back, her hands clutching at the knife in her chest. The gurgled rasp of her final words. The way her body crumpled to the floor, lifeless within a matter of mere seconds.

I should have felt worse about it. Far worse. Shouldn’t I?

I rolled onto my side, squeezing my eyes shut, but it only made matters worse. The memories replayed there, too, in the darkness. The flash of the knife moving from my hand without my mind catching up. The blood. The dull sound of her body hitting the ground.

But no matter how vivid the images were, I found that I wasn’t wracked with grief or guilt. Only a low, thrumming relief that I had somehow survived that fight.

Relief. I should have felt horrified, but I was just glad to be alive.

Maybe I was in shock. Maybe the enormity of it all hadn’t hit me yet. That had to be it. Right?

And yet, deep in the recesses of my mind, my wolf stirred. Her presence had been stronger than usual since Neil had held me earlier and even stronger since the fight, and now she prowled the edges of my thoughts, restless and alert. There was no guilt from her. No hesitation. If anything, she felt… proud of me.

Proud? I frowned, pressing my knuckles to my temple as if I could push her influence away. But she remained.

“You were meant for this,” she whispered. “Your blood sings for it.”

My wolf had been so quiet these past weeks, and I had spent so many nights wishing she would come back to me. But now, she just felt like a nuisance. I clenched my jaw. “Shut up,” I hissed under my breath.

My blood didn’t sing for violence. It couldn’t. I was a Werewolf, not a Lycan. I wasn’t some warrior bred for battle, no matter how much my wolf might want me to believe otherwise. I was just a spoiled, rich, heartbroken model who crashed in the ocean and washed up on the shore here.

Still, my wolf’s words were impossible to shake. My father was a Werewolf spanning generations back, but I knew next to nothing about my mother’s bloodline—she had died when I was so young. A car accident. I’d never had a chance to speak with her, to get to know her, and my father rarely talked about her.

Maybe… No.

It didn’t matter. Whatever my wolf felt about the situation was irrelevant. She was just reacting to the near-death experience, the adrenaline, the ritual with the guards. Nothing more. My mother was a Werewolf, not a Lycan.

I shook my head, trying to banish the thoughts. But the quiet room offered no reprieve, and every creak of the castle around me made my muscles tense. My hand drifted to the knife under my pillow on more than one occasion, like Hannah would suddenly walk back through the door and finish what she’d started.

And then the door unlocked.

My breath caught as I shot upright, my fingers closing around the knife’s hilt. A shadow stepped into the room.

I scrambled back, gripping the blade tightly, my chest heaving. “Don’t come any closer!” I hissed.

“Raven, it’s me,” Neil’s voice murmured. He stepped into view, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

I relaxed, but only a little. Neil crossed the room in a rush, his hands reaching for me before I could even bring myself to lower the knife.

His grip was firm but not harsh as he gently pried the blade from my trembling fingers, setting it on the nightstand. “It’s me,” he repeated, his blue eyes searching mine in the dim light. “Raven. Calm down.”

I blinked up at him, my breath still uneven. “Neil? What… What are you doing here?”

His gaze didn’t waver, the tension in his jaw visible even in the darkness. “I heard whispers,” he said quietly. “About Hannah. About what happened.”

My stomach twisted. “I—”

“Did you kill her?” he asked, cutting me off.

I froze, unable to bring myself to say it. My throat felt tight, my chest constricted, but somehow I managed to nod. “Yes,” I whispered after a moment, the word barely audible.

For a moment, Neil didn’t move. I thought he might yell at me, punish me, for doing something like that. But then he exhaled sharply, pulling me into his arms. His hand tangled in my hair and cradled the back of my head as he held me close.

“I thought she was going to kill me,” I choked out, the words spilling over each other. “She—she thought I was a spy. She knew I wasn’t a Lycan, Neil. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t—”

“Stop,” he said softly, his voice cutting through my rambling. “You do not have to explain. I am just glad you’re alive.”

His words took me by surprise, but they were the relief I didn’t know I needed. I sagged against him, my forehead resting against his chest as the first tears finally slipped free. He didn’t seem to mind, his fingers running soothingly through my hair.

“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he murmured, his tone hardening. “If this escalates, I will handle it. No one will come after you, I promise.”

A shaky breath escaped me, and I pulled back slightly to look up at him. “How do you do it?” I asked, my voice trembling. “How do you live with it?”

Neil’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “You don’t,” he said simply. “You learn to accept it as a necessity. Nothing more.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Do you still remember your first kill?”

He was silent for a long moment, his jaw tightening as his gaze drifted away. “Yes,” he said finally. “I was sixteen. A rogue ambushed me while I was guarding a supply wagon en route to the castle.”

He paused, his hand falling to his side. “I didn’t think. I just… acted. My blade went through his stomach before I even realized what I’d done.”

I reached out, my hand brushing against his. “Did it hurt? Losing that part of yourself?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I would do it again if it meant survival. And I have done it again. Many, many times.”

I nodded, feeling strangely comforted by the story. I released my grip on his hand.

He stepped back. “You should sleep,” he said, his voice hardening a little. “We have a journey ahead of us tomorrow night. And I have much to prepare before we leave.”

But as he turned to leave, panic surged through me. “Wait,” I blurted out, grabbing his wrist. “Please… Don’t go.”

He stilled, his gaze flicking back to me. I swallowed hard. “Can you just… stay for a little while?” I whispered. “Until I fall asleep?”

For a moment, he seemed to consider. I bit the inside of my cheek, figuring he would call me foolish or a big baby and would leave anyway. But taking me by surprise yet again, he sighed, nodding. “Alright.”

He climbed onto the bed beside me without a word. I shifted to make room, my heart racing as his warm, muscular arm draped over me, pulling me close. Without thinking, I nuzzled closer to him.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I let my eyes close, my head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled me into a sense of safety, and despite the chaos of the day, I felt myself begin to drift.

With Neil’s arms around me, I fell into the deepest sleep I had in a very long time.