Chapter 137

AURORA

I had children in my arms, and I couldn’t even hold them. It almost caused me physical pain to step away from them, but there was no time.

“Trajan, get the children!” I called. My loyal second bounded immediately to obey.

Then I threw my arms around Dane’s neck, blocking him from Waylon Reed with my body.

“You can’t kill him! This isn’t what the ritual calls for!”

“Aurora,” Dane’s voice was soft in my ear. He leaned his forehead against mine. There was so much contained in just the sound of my name, I couldn’t bear it.

“We don’t have to do this,” I insisted.

Dane’s arms were pinned behind his back, and he was being held down by half a dozen wolves. Others grabbed me from behind, trying to rip me away from him. I fought tooth and nail, as fierce as I could be with no wolf of my own.

“Leave me! I won’t let you hurt him!”

“Aurora, please,” Dane whispered. “He promised that you and the kids wouldn’t come to harm as long as he lives. You’ll be safe. You need to help Piper guide Blue Ridge.”

“No!”

I fought, but the wolf trying to pry me off Dane was too strong. It held me, kicking and shouting, and set me roughly on my feet in front of Waylon and Esther.

I reached into the large pocket on my dress and pulled out the book. “There’s nothing in here that says his blood has to be spilled.”

“That’s because we made sure to take that part out,” Esther said.

Her words sent a shard of ice through my chest. I dropped the book. “What?”

She smiled. “You were soft as a young girl. We couldn’t trust you to agree to perform a ritual that involved a blood sacrifice, could we?”

“But… no. This book is ancient. You can’t read it.”

“We can’t,” Esther said. “But your mother could. It didn’t take much to persuade her.”

I couldn’t breathe. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I flipped through the book, examining the pages like I’d done before. Pages had been torn from it—that was why we’d had to go looking in the old Broken Forest pack house, after all. I assumed I’d studied the place where they were torn out closely enough.

But now, as I flipped the book open and peered closer in the light of the torches I’d lit, I thought I could make out the faintest traces of one more missing page—not torn, but cut with a blade deep into the binding, so it was almost impossible to see another page was missing.

“Feel the magic, child,” Esther said. “You know it’s right.”

Almost against my will, my awareness opened to that choking, smoky magic. I could feel it now, like a burning in my throat.

She was right. This power thirsted.

“When Connall Montague betrayed us and decided he could run a pack better than me, he stole an item of power from us. An ancient tablet. He broke it and absorbed the magic into his blood. He thought it would make him stronger—and it did.” Waylon laughed without humor.

He stepped forward and grabbed Dane by the hair, tilting his head back to expose his neck. “But the tablet’s magic was meant for him. It was the key to unbinding him. That’s why Montague was one of the goddess’s ‘chosen.’ That’s why he’s so strong. Because of something his grandfather stole. And now it’s time for him to give it back.”

I squirmed and clawed in the grasp of the wolf that held me. My eyes were blurring.

This whole time, I thought we were doing something good. But I’d just been playing into the Reeds’ hands. I had been leading him to his death.

“I’m sorry, Dane. I didn’t know!”

His eyes caught mine. “My grandfather said there would be a sacrifice. If it means you and the twins will live, I’ll make it.” His voice was strained from the way Waylon had his head tilted back.

Inside, it was like my whole soul screamed. We’d come this far. We’d done everything that had been asked of us. We had so much. How could we have gotten all this way, only to find out that Dane had to die?

A horrible thought crossed my mind. Did my grandmother know? Augusta DeVere was an incredibly smart old woman with a massive magical library at her disposal. She knew about the relic when almost no one else did, forgotten as it had been in the fog of history. Had she always known Dane would die? Was that why she had pushed me toward Holden?

Waylon pressed the tip of the silver knife to Dane’s throat. It was wickedly sharp. A bead of blood welled at the tip of his knife.

I sensed the moment the edge of the new moon moved above the trees. It didn’t cast light, but its power fell on the intricate circle I had drawn with the symbol—banded stone at its center. It wouldn’t be long, now.

“Wait!” I cried. “Please, Waylon. We have a little time. If you ever cared for me, let me say goodbye.”