Page 222 of A Warrior's Fate

One of the few units assigned to patrol the Wall’s borders. And they served nothing more.

Magnus, the obnoxious asshole, had no idea he may have been on the brink of achieving his warrior dreams.

In the trips Isla had taken down into Surles with the unit along with Rhydian, she’d learned the male guard was quite a fan of her mate. Frequently spouting how Kai would destroy his rogue opponent and show Imperial Alpha Cassius in the process that Deimos wasn’t a pack to be messed with.

Because Kai’s victory was “his” victory.

Now she understood the morale he’d been talking about.

But of course, Magnus couldn’t let go of the fact Isla was of Io—at least, to his knowledge—and she contemplated on many instances going into the backseat of their vehicle, as Rhydian drove them, and chucking him out into the streets.

It was on one of their later nights on patrol that she found herself at her wit’s end, and whipped around to face him, wedged between Thyra and Belle on their ride back to Mavec a couple of hours before dusk.

“Do you want to know the truth?” she’d seethed, lowering the neckline of her warrior uniform, flashing her mark. “I’m Alpha Kai’s mate, and I swear to the Goddess if you don’t stop talking right now, the first thing I’m going to do when I’m crowned luna is…”

She’d trailed off once she realized she had a gaping audience and heard Rhydian laugh beside her.

There hadn’t been doubt in their eyes, something about her, her demeanor, they knew she meant it.

Belle had cursed in disbelief, Thyra had nearly cried, and Magnus had paled, turned green, opened a window, and paled again. Then he’d been blissfully silent for the rest of the ride and went statue stiff every time she passed him for days on later.

But unfortunately, those prior hours of suffering had been for nothing. The killer never showed up. Never left another clue. Not as, on intermittent nights, Isla perched herself in one of the broken chairs of the house and waited. She wasn’t dumb enough to venture into the tunnels alone. Not desperate enough, but close.

Close enough that on the rare occasions where she and Kai could be together, he asked her a few times to be sure that she hadn’t done anything rash.

She cherished those moments with him and found it cruel that these days, when sometimes it felt like their time together was running out, they were too busy to see each other. Most nights, they met in their bed, each too tired to do anything but share a kiss and pass out. Other nights, pleasure, release, and relief from the day’s stresses were found quickly, and then sleep would take them.

There had been one day that Isla had seen him while awake for quite a few hours. When she’d gone to visit him while he’d been working out, he beckoned her down from the mezzanine overlooking the training fields to join him. Half-nude and sweaty, their running of drills and their sparring with practice swords—which Isla stood by she’d been victorious in, a greater master in the intricacies of weapons’ handling while he edged her out in brute strength and ferocity—hadn’t lasted long…

But Isla was grateful for the busyness. Grateful that she barely had time to think.

Because in those free moments, her mind drifted to Io. To the threat ahead. To her father. To Sebastian and Adrien.

She’d finally spoken with them but only briefly. Only to tell them that she was okay, everything would be okay, and that they should remain in Io.

She didn’t tell them she didn’t want them in Deimos. Didn’t tell them the risk was too great. That she barely trusted anyone or their intentions, and she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything ever happened to them.

And after that, after she’d hung up the phone—overwhelmed and a touch lonely in the silence of Kai’s office, curled in that large, regal chair—she’d cried. For a life she knew she’d need to let go, for the people she may have had to, too.

Then she picked herself up and went back to work.

Three days.

Only three days remained until the full moon. Until the challenge.

It had been yet another hectic twenty-four hours being here and there, everywhere and nowhere. But tonight. Tonight, three days out, they’d take a small break. A breather to gather in Jonah’s bookshop as a family and not speak at all of what loomed ahead. Just drink and laugh and be with each other—if that were possible.

Isla’s muscles were stiff as she settled into the armchair, a freshly poured glass of wine between her fingers. Davina, to her surprise, was firm in her stance of not consuming alcohol, holding a cup of water at her side.

The redhead surveyed the room. “Where are Ameera and Rhydian?”

“You don’t know where he is?” Isla asked.

Davina ran a hand over her braid. “I—I thought he’d be back from the rogue borders hours ago.”

Worry flashed in her eyes, and Isla wondered if she did as Isla frequently had with Kai in their distance, assessing the bond, making sure Rhydian was sound on the other side.

“I asked them to run an errand for me.” Kai stepped forward from where he’d been talking with Jonah. He sipped from his whiskey, and Isla grimaced when he looked at her, practically feeling the burning in her own throat. He only winked and drained the rest of the glass.

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