Page 37 of Branded By Shadow
The injustice crashed through what little emotional control I had left. Something snapped inside me. Sobs tore through my body, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to contain the emotional storm. It didn’t work.
Around the room, plants erupted into chaotic growth. Furious vegetation broke free from decorative pots, stretching across the floor. Roots cracked through the floor tiles. Thorns emerged from previously harmless flowers, wickedly sharp and defensive.
Cassandra’s head snapped toward me, her eyes wide with panic. “Cora! Oh, gods, I didn’t realize you were awake.”
Helena tried to do the same, but surging plant life blocked her path. “Cora, calm down, please. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Maybe she was right, but I didn’t care about that anymore. “I’m already fucking hurt. And you’re all standing there, deciding my life for me?”
Helena opened her mouth to answer, but a thorny vine swept toward her. Damon stepped in front of her before she could be hit. The plant caught him right over the chest, shredding his expensive shirt, drawing blood.
He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he caught the vine in his fist. “Cora. No one will take anything from you. I promise.”
I shouldn’t have believed him. After everything that had happened, I had no reason to. But he was standing there, bleeding, meeting my eyes with an uncharacteristic solemnity.
The vine in his hand went limp. The storm inside me receded, leaving behind a hollow, aching void. “Damon, you have to see… This is ridiculous. I refuse to believe this is just about a simple omega suppressant.”
Damon took a careful step closer. “What is it about, then?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
“I don’t know.” A fresh sob hitched in my throat. “But I have to find out. I need my research. I need all of it.”
Damon knelt by the bed, giving me space but holding my gaze. The shadows around him were perfectly still. “You need to rest.”
“I need to understand what I’ve made,” I insisted. “You know that as well as I do.”
Helena stepped forward, her expression resolute. “She’s right, Damon. We have to figure out why this is so important to Alexander. There is no other way.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. “You’ll have your files.” He stood and walked out of the room without another word.
I watched him leave, my heart heavy. There were still many things that had been left unsaid between us. I knew that now. It was possible that either he or Alexander would kill me.
But this wasn’t about me or Damon. Perhaps it never had been. It was about Alexander, and all the harm he could do with my work. I refused to let that happen, no matter the cost.
15
Epiphany
Damon
Scent didn’t lie. Cora was starving.
I balanced the metal tray against my palms, rolling my shoulders against a low, insistent ache that had settled deep in my bones. Her scent reached me even through the sealed door, sharp with exhaustion and hollow with hunger.
The security scanner flashed green at my approach. The heavy door slid open and released a rush of humid air laden with ancient soil and vegetation. Even that felt too warm against my skin.
Cora hunched over the microscope, her body curved protectively around her work. Auburn hair fell across her face in unwashedstrands, tangled from where she’d repeatedly pushed it back with impatient hands. The conservatory’s artificial light carved harsh shadows beneath her eyes, and I saw a fine tremor in her fingers as she adjusted the focus dial. The sight sent a fresh spike of self-loathing through me. The poison of my family’s legacy, of my own rage, had left a heavy mark on her.
“You need to eat.” I placed the tray directly beside her notes and purposely obscured the formula she’d been annotating. The words came out rougher than I’d planned, edged with an irritation I couldn’t quite control.
Her shoulders stiffened, and she straightened her spine, as if preparing for confrontation. She didn’t look up. “I’m working.”
“Your work suffers when your hands shake.” I stepped closer, close enough to catch the full impact of her scent. I tried not to let it get to me, but the shadows in the corners of the room deepened, more disobedient than they’d ever been.
Her stomach growled audibly. The sound echoed in the cavernous space, bouncing off the stone walls. She let out a slow breath, obviously exasperated by the demands of her own body.
“Fine.” She pushed the microscope away with more force than necessary. “But I don’t need you hovering.”
Plants reached toward her, vines stretching in unnatural patterns, bending away from my approach with more urgency than usual. Three empty coffee cups formed a careless semicircle around her station.
