Page 26 of Cursed By Fate

I froze, heart skipping. They were talking about Tristan. About me. But who was this other guy?

The hooded figure didn’t flinch, his stance as calm and sure as Ewan’s was agitated. His voice was low, chillingly familiar in a way that tightened every nerve in my body.

“Everything is proceeding as planned. The stones will soon be ours.”

The words sent a jolt through me. Whoever he was, he thought he had this under control. Was he talking about the same stones my pack tried to steal? The ones they captured me over? As they spoke, my wrist tingled. Not a burn, but a cold pulse under my skin, like the mark itself was listening. Like the mountain didn’t want me to miss what was happening.

I leaned in too far, too eager. A loose rock shifted beneath my hand, clattering down the cave wall. The sound echoed like a gunshot, and I stilled, breath locked in my chest.

Their conversation cut off abruptly. Both men turned toward the noise, scanning the area. I ducked back into the shadows, panic spiking. Had they seen me? Was it too late to warn Tristan? I inched away from the entrance, every instinct screaming to run, to hide, to do anything but freeze like this.

The silence stretched thin and brittle. Then I heard it again, their voices retreating, quieter, more cautious.

“Someone’s onto us,” Ewan said, the words carrying back to me on the cold air.

“Doesn’t matter,” the other man replied, a certainty in his tone that made my skin crawl. “We’ll take care of it.”

I waited until they were gone, until even the whisper of their presence faded from the woods. My heart wouldn’t slow, pounding out a rhythm of fear and confusion. Ewan’s betrayal was almost too much to wrap my head around, and the other voice—it tugged at something deep, something I didn’t want to look at too closely. Not yet.

I forced myself back to Tristan, where I found him still asleep, unaware of the storm raging just beyond the cave. Just beyond me. I settled beside him, every part of me tangled in knots that had nothing to do with the curse.

He shifted, pulling me close again. His touch was unconscious, but it grounded me, reminding me of the hope I’d felt the night before. The hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a way through all of this.

I should’ve shaken him awake. Should’ve told him that everything we’d just started to believe in might already be unraveling. But the weight of his arm, the peace on his face—it silenced me. What if waking him meant ending this?

But now everything was upside down, a mess of doubt and danger that left me raw. Was Ewan just playing Tristan all along? And the other man—did my father know he was here, making deals with the enemy? Was that his plan all along? Was that why he’d let them take me so easily?

The questions ate at me, a relentless churn of suspicion and betrayal. I wanted to wake Tristan, to tell him everything. To scream that I didn’t care, that I’d choose this—us—over anything. But something held me back, a shadow of hesitation that felt too much like the past. Maybe this was all another trap I’d find myself in with no way out.

I lay there, stuck between hope and despair, caught in a web I couldn’t yet unravel. The cave grew colder, the light creeping in around us, turning night’s magic into morning’s doubt. And still, despite it all, I found myself wanting.

Wanting the truth. Wanting to belong. Wanting him.

The cave grew colder as morning pressed in, turning night’s magic into doubt. I didn’t know what would come next, only that the words haunted me still: “The stones will soon be ours.” And for the first time, I didn’t know whose side I was truly on.

Chapter eight

Tristan

The dusky silhouette of the Stormvale compound loomed ahead, shrouded in twilight and secrets. Shadows crept along the forest floor as we made our way back, each step a reminder of the ambush that had left us raw and weary. Serena walked beside me, still in her bra and jeans, her silence more unnerving than any threat. I could feel the watchful eyes of the pack as we approached, especially those stealing glancesat Serena’s body. I resisted the urge to wrap my arm around her. Not because she needed the protection—Serena didn’t need anyone’s shield—but because every stare felt like an insult I couldn’t afford to answer with teeth.

But it was Ewan's presence at the gate—his stance tense and wary—that sent a jolt through me. His eyes locked onto us, searching and accusing, igniting an uneasy flicker of doubt in my mind. “Where the hell have you been?” Ewan's voice cut through the air as we reached the gates. His arms were crossed, and he tapped one foot impatiently, eyes darting between us.

“Nice to see you too,” I said, trying to sound calm. But the words came out sharper than I intended, edged with the strain of the last twelve hours.

Serena remained quiet, her expression unreadable. She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, a gesture I'd come to recognize as a shield. A mask for whatever she didn't want us to see.

“We've been expecting you back for hours,” Ewan continued. “Thought you'd been taken or killed, or—” His gaze pierced mine, demanding an explanation.

The compound loomed behind him, its rough-hewn timbers casting long shadows in the fading light. The pack watched from shadows and windows, their gazes sharp as blades. I didn’t know if they were looking to me for leadership or waiting for me to fall.

“We ran into trouble,” I said finally, glancing at Serena.

Ewan's posture shifted, a flicker of something like satisfaction crossing his face before he masked it with feigned concern. His eyes flicked to the dried blood on my shoulder. Too quick. Too knowing. He hadn’t asked about the injury—hadn’t needed to. “What kind of trouble?”

“Ambush in the woods,” Serena said, her voice steady and cold. She studied Ewan with a focus that matched his, refusing to look away.

“Silver Ridge?” Ewan asked, but I caught an edge of eagerness in his tone.

---