Chapter 25
The forest is too quiet.
Towering trees stretch toward the night sky, their branches weaving together like skeletal fingers, blocking out most of the moonlight. But I don’t need the moon to see. My heightened senses pick up every shift in the shadows, every rustle of leaves beneath our steps, every distant heartbeat of unseen creatures lurking nearby.
Jack’s sister moves effortlessly through the darkness, as if she belongs to it. I trail behind her, my senses sharp, my guard up. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone–except, for some reason, Fury.
She may have freed me from that cell, but that doesn’t mean I owe her anything. For all I know, she could be leading me straight to my death.
I steal another glance at her, noting once again the striking resemblance to Jack. The same silver eyes. The same confident stride, as if she owns the very ground she walks on.
“So,” I say casually, though I’m not joking, “you’re not secretly kidnapping me, are you? Or, I don’t know, leading me somewhere to have me killed?”
She laughs–a real, genuine laugh that echoes through the trees.
“If I wanted to kill you,” she replies, turning to face me, “you wouldn’t have even seen my face.”
Iarch a brow.
She smirks. “I wouldn’t come myself. Too risky. My cover would be blown when my brother starts investigating.” Then, her expression softens, just a fraction. “Besides, why would I want to kill my brother’s mate? I can’t watch him be in pain a second time.”
I stiffen.
The words a second time claw at something inside me.
I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Jack’s first mate.
The question burns on my tongue, demanding to be spoken. But I bite down on my lip–hard–until I taste blood, forcing it back. I refuse to ask. Refuse to show any interest in his past. It shouldn’t matter. I don’t care.
I force my legs to keep moving.We walk in silence until she stops abruptly.
I blink up at the largest tree I’ve ever seen. It towers over everything, its thick roots twisting into the earth like ancient serpents. The trunk is massive- wide enough to fit an entire house–its bark gnarled and knotted with time.
Then–she murmurs something under her breath.
A door materializes within the bark, seamlessly forming before swinging open.
I stare.
She doesn’t miss my reaction. “I’m not a witch,” she says before I can even ask. “But that doesn’t mean only witches cast spells.”
That’s not exactly comforting.
Still, I follow her inside, my breath hitching as I take in the space.
It’s… massive.
A full, cozy home is carved into the heart of the tree, filled with soft lighting, thick carpets, and towering bookshelves. A fireplace crackles in the corner,
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Chapter 25
བའ ་ ་ ན་ ་
filling the air with the scent of wood and aged paper. It doesn’t just look safe–it feels safe.
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Jack’s sister wanders further in, running a hand along an old bookshelf. “Only Jack and I played here as kids,” she says, a small, nostalgic smile tugging at her lips. “We were the youngest, inseparable. But as we grew, he stopped coming. Responsibility. Our father’s death. He had to grow up too fast.” She turns to me, silver eyes steady; and I don’t miss the bitterness in her tone.
She exhales, then shrugs. “Anyway, no one can find us here. No one even knows this place exists. Not even my mate.”
Something about the way she says mate makes my skin prickle. It isn’t soft or affectionate, the way submissive women usually say it–like a prayer, a sacred bond. No, her tone is sharp, laced with resentment. She spits the word out like a curse.
But I keep my thoughts to myself. It’s none of my business.
Leaning against the nearest wall, I watch her closely. She doesn’t sit, just lingers near an old armchair, fingers tracing over the worn leather.
“You must be wondering why I come here,” she muses. “Even now, as an adult.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”
She ignores my response and continues anyway.
“I come here when I want to escape reality.” Her voice lowers, something distant creeping into her tone. “And I know you needed it, too. That cell must’ve been overwhelming. I know how it feels… to be locked away.” She exhales, gaze unfocused. “Even if it’s not physically.”
I don’t respond. I don’t want to feel sympathy for her. But her words dig under my skin, burrowing into places I’d rather ignore.
After a long pause, I finally ask, “Why bring me here? To your most secret place?”
Jasmine snaps out of whatever thoughts she was lost in and smirks.
“Silly,” she says lightly. “It’s so I can get to know you better. I know we’ll be good friends.”
I scoff. “I doubt it. I don’t plan on having friends.”
“Well,” she says, grinning, “let me be your first.”
She steps forward, extending a hand. “My name is Jasmine.”
I eye her hand warily.
Then, after a beat, I shake it.
“Kali.”
Jasmine’s grin widens, “Nice to meet you, Kali.”
She releases my hand and stretches, rolling her shoulders. “Now, feel free. I have tons of food and fruit–help yourself while I take a shower.” She shudders. “Ugh, I hate the smell of silver from that damn cage. My skin feels like it’s peeling, and my eyes are burning.” She groans dramatically. “I don’t know how you managed to stand it without getting weak.”
I roll my eyes. Exaggeration much?
If she only knew I had held silver with my bare hands and didn’t burn.
But I don’t tell her.
Some things are better, left unsaid.
The moment Jasmine disappears, I let out a slow breath and take the chance to admire the place properly. It’s like a hidden sanctuary–a little piece of
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Chapter 25
heaven carved inside a tree–but then my gaze lands on the real treastire.
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The table.
Piled high with fresh berries, peaches, apples, and other fruits I can’t even name. My stomach growls in approval. Without a second thought, I grab a handful of berries and stuff them into my mouth greedily. Then another. And another. Their juices burst against my tongue, sweet and tangy, making me ravenous for more.
Before I know it, I’ve devoured half the table.
And then it hits me. Shit.
A violent wave of nausea rolls through me. I slap a hand over my mouth as my stomach churns in protest, barely making it to the nearest door before! feel like I’m going to be sick.
I shove it open without thinking-
Only to freeze.
Jasmine stands in front of a mirror, her back to me, mid–motion of removing her shirt. My mouth opens to apologise, but the words die in
my
throat.
Because that’s when I see them.
As the fabric slides down her shoulders, pale skin is revealed, marred with scars. Long, jagged, brutal. Some fresh and raw, others old and faded, crisscrossing over her back like she’d been torn apart and barely stitched back together. A web of pain carved into her flesh.
Bruises–red and angry–mark her spine like she’s been attacked by something wild.
A sharp gasp escapes me before I can stop it.
Jasmine whirls around, her silver eyes wide with shock. “Shit,” she mutters under her breath, yanking her shirt back on in a hurry. Her hands tremble slightly as she buttons it up, jaw clenched.
“Who the fuck did that to you?” I demand, my stomach twisting, the nausea from the fruit long forgotten.
Jasmine glares. “It’s none of your damn business.”
There’s a flash of defensiveness in her eyes–panic.
“We’re supposed to be friends, aren’t we?” I throw her words back at her, my voice sharp.
She flinches. But instead of responding, her irises darken for a split second, as if a shadow passes over them. And then I realise–she’s communicating
with someone.
don’t miss the way her skin pales.
Or the way fear creeps into her expression, tightening her jaw, stiffening her posture.
Who the hell is making Jack’s sister–this bold, sharp–tongued woman–look like a terrified little girl?
Before I can demand answers, Jasmine turns on her heel and bolts. She doesn’t say a word or even look at me.
I stand there, alone, the silence pressing in.
Dragging a hand down my face, I groan. “Why the hell did I pry?” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Why couldn’t I just mind my own damn business?”
But the question lingers in my mind.
Does Jack know?
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Chapter 25
Does he know his sister is hurting?
And if he does… who the hell is hurting her?
My first thought is her mate.
I shake my head, but I wouldn’t be surprised. The men here don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to treating their mates with respect. They see them as possessions–something to break and bend at will.
I sigh and turn, my eyes catching on the bathroom door. The warm steam curling from within is all the invitation I need. My skin itches, aching for a hot
bath.
1 strip quickly and step into the tub, sinking into the water with a sigh.
The heat soaks into my muscles, loosening the tension, washing away the grime and exhaustion. I let my head fall back against the edge of the tub, eyes slipping closed. I can’t even remember the last time I had a proper bath.
The warmth lulls me into a drowsy haze.
But then-
The sound of footsteps.
Heavy. Controlled.
A scent–dark, intoxicating.
Him.
My body tenses. My senses sharpen.
Before I can react, a strong, firm hand grips my neck.
My eyes snap open.
Silver.
Not Jasmine’s.
Jack’s.
His face is shadowed, his silver eyes sharp and furious, locked onto mine. His fingers press around my throat–tight, unyielding, but not choking. Not
hurting.
Just enough pressure to remind me exactly who is in control.
And gods help me, but-
It’s a fucking turn–on.
Heat coils low in my stomach, spreading through my veins, making my breath hitch. The water laps against my skin, my naked body submerged, but Jack’s eyes don’t stray.
He doesn’t look at my body.
He looks at me.
And for some reason, that’s almost worse.
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His voice is low, rough. A growl laced with menace.
“How the fuck did you escape? And how did you get here?”
I smirk, tilting my chin slightly despite the hand around my throat. “I think you already know the answer, Jack.” My voice is teasing, “I met your
His jaw clenches.
“And all I can say,” I continue smoothly, “is that you’ve not only failed as a mate-“I lean up slightly, voice dropping-“but also as a brother.”
His grip tightens, his entire body tensing.
The air between us crackles.
Dangerous. Dark, Intoxicating.
His silver eyes flash, and for the first time-
I think I might have pushed him too far.
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