I push away from the table and stand.
The motion is too fast.
The room tilts sideways, the edges of my vision darken, and my poor legs scream in protest as they shake beneath my weight.They’re stiff, sore, still weak from the events of the past few days. But I lock my knees and force myself to stay upright, gripping the back of the nearest chair for balance.
Instinct tells me my Nightingale won’t be in any danger with Rhosyn and Canaan, but instinct only gets a partial vote. The rest is ruled by years of lessons drilled into me by Mom. Lessons that taught me to be ready, always.To step between danger and the people you’re meant to protect, no matter what condition you’re in. So, yeah, my body might be shot to hell, but I’ll still throw myself in front of Siggy without a second thought.
The footsteps are getting closer now, steady but rushed. Still muffled by the hallway, still out of sight.
I turn to face the arched entrance of the kitchen, faintly aware that the Fallamhain Pack members and Seren have also stood from the table. Canaan’s presence is a quiet weight at my back. Heavy. Watchful. My anxiety spikes on Siggy’s behalf, not knowing how she’s going to react when forced to confront strangers. One of them being an alpha male.
“I don’t believe you anymore.” Siggy’s voice carries down the hallway, disembodied but growing clearer with every step. There’s strength in it, sure, but each word is laced with worry she’s not quite able to hide. “You and Seren told me days ago she was just sick or something, but that she was getting better. If that were true, Noa would’ve come to see me. Even just for a minute. She would’ve checked in. But she hasn’t.”
Oh, Siggy. I’m so sorry.
The fact that she’s left the safety of the basement—her nest—to come looking for me makes my heart hurt with guilt. That space is her newfound sanctuary, the one place she’s felt secure enough to exist without all-consuming fear, and yet here she is, braving the open space above ground because she’s worried about me. That shouldn’t be her job. She’s the one who needs protecting right now. Time to heal. It’s supposed to be me whochecks in to make sure she feels safe. Me who shows up for her. Not the other way around.
“We’re not lying to you,” Edie says gently, her voice carrying the kind of exhaustion that only comes from repeating the same truth over and over. It’s the sound of someone who’s been trying to reassure a frightened omega for hours—maybe days—and is running out of ways to say the same thing. “Noa just hasn’t been strong enough to make it down to see you yet.”
“Whatever,” Siggy huffs, skepticism woven into the sound. I can’t fault Siggy for the intense level of distrust she’s displaying. If I had to live through what she’s endured, I wouldn’t easily trust another damn soul, either. “But I’m still going to find her so I can see with my own two eyes that you haven’t been trying to feed me a bunch of bullshit?—”
Right as she’s passing the kitchen entrance, the Nightingale stumbles to such an abrupt stop when she catches sight of me out of the corner of her eye that poor Edie, looking frazzled as hell, slams straight into her back.
Siggy barely flinches, her posture rigid, attention fixed on me and only me.
Big, sharp dark blue eyes rake over me from head to toe, quietly assessing. She doesn’t say a word, but the furrow between her wheat-colored brows is enough. I can practically see her mentally cataloging every visible sign of damage, and from the way her expression tightens, I know it’s taken her less than five seconds to clock how bad it really is.
“Noa,” she breathes my name, relief twining with her obvious concern. “Whathappenedto you? You look…”
The weight of her unfinished sentence lingers in the air, thick with emotion, but it doesn’t get a chance to settle because a sharp gasp cuts through the silence like a whip.
“Sigrid?”
The girl’s gaze darts past me, locking on to someone over my shoulder. I see the shift in her expression instantly. Recognition and disbelief sparking in her wide eyes.
“Rhosyn? Canaan?”
Chapter 20
Rennick
Ihaven’t moved on from the moment Noa collapsed like her soul had been yanked out of her body. Physically, I may have numbly left that clearing after they’d carried her from me, but, mentally, I’m still back there reliving it. Regretting it while simultaneously trying to remind myself why I did it—why I had to—as vivid flashes of her broken, unconscious body flood my mind, each one a brutal reminder that she ended up that way because of me.
It was three days ago now—I think. Time has ceased to have any meaning. Morning, night, midday, it all bleeds together in this office, in this box I’ve locked myself inside. The curtains—the only thing left unscathed from my rampage—are drawn tight, the fireplace left cold. I haven’t eaten. Can’t remember the last time I drank water.
I don’t sleep.
Can’t.
Not because I’m punishing myself—though the guilt might argue otherwise—but because I know what’s waiting for me if I do. The dreams that started eight months ago, long before I caught her scent on the wind in my backyard. Before I knewwhat her sweet voice sounded like. Before I looked into her two-toned irises and the memories I never should have forgotten started to resurface.
If I close my eyes and try to find relief in oblivion, I know I will be brought back to that place where between the snowcapped pine trees, her figure is carved into the white mist. Waiting for me. Always waiting for me. Every part of her face obscured except for her eyes. I never realized until recently how much that detail mattered. One solid golden brown. The other split straight down the middle—half gold, half glacial blue. A distant voice used to whisper to me that I was staring into something sacred, something important.
It was Noa. It’s always been Noa.
She had begged me to remember her and when I’d woken up, I was left feeling like I was missing a vital piece of me. I hadn’t understood it then. But I do now. And knowing that I failed her? That I spoke the words that destroyed us with my own mouth while her soul had been crying out to mine for months?
That’s what keeps me awake.