Page 119 of Mate
I don’t know if or when you’ll receive this letter. I don’t know if you’re alive. It’s been approximately three weeks since we went our separate ways. Like we agreed, I’ll be vague about names and locations, in case the Northwest intercepts our communications. Without going into detail, I dearly hope our time apart has been less eventful for you than for us.
Originally, it was just C., P., E., and me. A few days later, we encountered three other Favored on the run and joined forces. A larger group of adults allows for more night shifts to ensure that we’re not being surrounded, or ambushed. These days, we always need at least two people to stay awake to sound the alarm. Luckily, only E., H., and I are still Human. Our senses being what they are, there is not much we can do. H. sometimes helps me take care of E., even though she remains wary of men. We have settled in one of our old safe houses, the most remote we could reach. Youmay remember it as the place where our dear friend G. gave birth a few years ago. It’s nice to have that lovely memory as we face this cold winter.
You must be wondering whether C. has had any revelations about the current situation. Sadly, I don’t have good news on that front. He believes that the Northwest is closing in, and I suspect he might be right. I feel a great deal of guilt about the skepticism I expressed when he first informed us of his plan to take over the Northwest, and I now realize that I shouldn’t have questioned the prophet’s word. After long meditation, C. has informed us that objectors like me are the real reason the takeover did not go as planned. The least I can do to atone is stay by his side and take care of him.
You probably want to know about your favorite, E. Frankly, I regret bringing her with us. She is deeply unhappy, and perhaps even regressing. She eats little, rarely pays attention to us, and at times she won’t speak at all, not even when asked direct questions. In the first few days on the run, she would ask after her friends, but has since stopped. She is so withdrawn, the others sometimes make fun of her. Call her slow. They say that she cannot be trusted to obey orders, and are worried about her giving our location away, and about her behavior in a crisis. Do you recall that battle at Glacier, right before we ran? There was so much blood, and so much death. I tried to shield E. from it, but she hasn’t been the same since. All I ever wanted was for her to grow in the presence of her father. C.’s greatness has been a constant throughout my life, and she deserves to be inspired by him, too. But he rarely has time for her these days. I try to carve out moments for just the two of us, slices of the day to play or draw or snuggle together,but is it enough? Would she be better off elsewhere? My love for her is boundless— and much stronger than my pride. Her happiness matters to me, more than being able to say that I am the cause of it.
As you’ve probably realized by now, this is why I’m writing. You and E. have a special bond, and if you are in a safe place away from conflict, I cannot help wondering whether that’s where she should be, too.
There is another possibility. The news has reached us that the new Alpha of the Northwest offered to hear any Favored who will turn themselves in, and will spare the lives of those who were not directly involved in the attacks. C. says that he’s an illegitimate Alpha and cannot be trusted. However, I’ve heard rumors of Humans successfully taking advantage of this stipulation. Would he offer grace to E.? Would it be foolish to expect him to keep his word?
Let me know your thoughts. And whatever you decide, do not let the tone of this letter bring you down. These are hard times, but if we follow C.’s instructions, we will prevail.
Much love,
Fiona
I finish reading, and my timing must be pitch perfect. Because I set the letter on the table just as Irene says, “Ah, he is here. Welcome.”
I lift my eyes and Koen is there, blocking the light from filtering through the doorway.
There are more than half a dozen people in the room, but his gaze falls on me instantly, like I’m the center of mass of his universe. The violence of his relief is so strong, I don’t thinkanyone in the room is immune to it. Irene herself recoils, before collecting herself and adding, “We sent our location early this morning. It took you much longer than we expected to get here.”
Koen steps inside. He’s drenched in rainwater, hands tied in front of his body. His forearms and neck are smeared with blood, green swirled with red. Some of it trickles slowly down his temple, where it mats his thick hair. Just below, a deep cut dissects his right cheekbone. He’s wearing a black shirt and black pants, which makes it impossible to tell whether he was injured in any vital spot.
I can’t believe he camealone. After what he said about his mother, he made the same mistake. He’s so outnumbered, evenhecan’t make it out of this.
And yet his smirk and “Thank you for having me” fill me with some temporary optimism, even after three more Weres walk inside behind him. It’s Jess and her two friends, clearly proud to be delivering the Alpha of the Northwest. They bend their heads to Irene. When she invites Koen to take a seat, the younger man pushes him and sends him staggering forward.
The boy gets to gloat for about three seconds. Then Koen spins around, uses his bound hands to deliver a hook, and trips him with his foot.
Every Were in the room takes an attack stance, ready to intervene, but Koen barely notices. “Tell your boyfriends to get their hands off me,” he orders Irene, not even winded.
“Alpha.” She clicks her tongue. “Are you in the position to make demands?”
Koen’s response is a glance toward the boy who’s currently in fetal position on the floor, holding his bleeding jaw.
“Point taken.” Irene chuckles, and pulls a chair back for Koen. She’s a spider, willing to bide her time for a juicy reward, and I want to warn him, but my mouth won’t open.
“I see your bitchboys are eager to step up to the plate,” he says, glancing at the male Weres’ obvious arousal.
“They are ready to be of service, yes. Would you like some tea, Alpha?”
“That would be lovely. Chai, two sugars.”
“Nele? Do we have . . . No? No chai, unfortunately. Can we offer you anything else?”
Koen sits back. “Lady, fuck you and your tea.”
“Oh, there is no need for such hostility,” Irene chides. “I have greatly enjoyed my time with your friend.”
“Bully for you. Mymate, though, doesn’t seem to enjoy your company. She’s crying, and smells like she’s in distress.”
I lift a hand up to my cheek. It’s slick with tears.
“You and I have never met, have we?” Irene asks Koen, sizing him up as she returns to her chair.
“We both know that one of us wouldn’t be here if we had.”
