Page 51 of The Witch's Heart
“I’m fine. I . . .” I pause, taking in our new surroundings, speechless at the luxury that apparently existed just one floor above those terrible prison cells.
“Celeste? Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m okay.” I shake my head and turn back to Declan and Dean who both watch me with worried expressions. I grab each of their hands in one of my own and squeeze. “I have something to tell you.”
12
"So… you're going to help him?" Declan's jaw has been clenched rigidly since I began explaining what I've learned. Dean is watching impassively, taking in everything I've said.
"I'm going to do what I must to save my twin," I clarify, giving him and Dean a pointed look. “You two of all people should understand that.”
They know what that bond means, and we all know they would do anything to save each other.
In the corner, next to the wide oak dresser decorated with a vase of fresh flowers, my sister's ghostly form flickers into view, her head bowed, long locks of brown hair falling over her face. When she looks up, I gasp. Where her eyes should be, are black orbs.
Don't trust anyone. Not even me.
She disappears, and I strangle a frustrated sigh. If she's not dead, then what am I seeing? Can a person's soul roam free of their body like a ghost while they're yet alive? Is she an illusion? An imposter? My own imagination?
I may no longer believe I'm crazy, but I still can't trust what I see as truth. Not in this place. Not with all the mind games they're playing on us.
I look around our new room—with plush furniture and thick carpet. A private bathroom with a sunken tub. Even a small couch facing a private television. It’s luxurious compared to what we had before. But I know without a doubt Cutter is observing us—listening to everything we say.
I lean in closer to the brothers and brush my lips against Declan's ear, pulling Dean closer so he can hear too. "We have to be careful what we say. But I'm doing my best to make things better for us."
Declan frowns. "You're playing with fire, witch-girl."
I think back to the day I lit my door on fire and get an idea. Holding my hand out, I concentrate as hard as I can, and for just a moment, a flicker of a flame appears on my palm before dissipating. Blink and you'd miss it, but I didn't blink.
I smile triumphantly. "Maybe Iamthe fire," I whisper.
Dean is still staring at my palm as if willing the flame to return, but Declan's gaze is locked on my face, his expression unreadable.
"I have a feeling that bastard is getting more than he bargained for with you, love," he says, and I'm not gonna lie, his use of the wordlovemakes my head spin a bit.
He takes my hand and pulls me closer against him. “I understand doing what you must for your twin.” His voice is husky and filled with emotion.
He and Dean exchange a look and Dean nods.
Declan exhales a breath I didn’t know he was holding. “There’s something you should know about us.”
I wait, listening, knowing there’s nothing he could say that would shock me at this point.
“Our father was alpha of our pack,” Declan says. “When he died, pack law dictated the eldest son would become the new alpha. But there was no provision for twins so our pack elders decreed that Dean and I would need to fight for who would be the next alpha.”
“Fight?” I repeat, horrified at what they were forced to do.
“To the death,” Declan adds grimly.
I gasp, unable to imagine being put in a position where I would have to kill my own sister.
“Which of you won?” I ask, sensing there’s much more to this story. There must be if both of them are still here; alive and well.
Dean answers. “Neither of us. We refused.”
“They should have never tried to force you into that.”
“But we couldn’t stay in the pack any longer, so we left. That’s how we got caught. That’s how Cutter’s mongrels found us. Without our pack, we were vulnerable. Weaker. Unprotected.”
