Mated To An Enemy

It was a lot of information to process, and every bit of it, Caleb needed to know.

Ashleigh and Clara agreed that it would be best to take a few days to let Ashleigh absorb all she had learned while she tried to find a chance to speak with Caleb about it.

She wanted to allow him the chance to read his father’s journal before moving forward.

Clara stayed a little longer, reviewing a few more minor details and sharing some light gossip about her progress with Nessa. Ashleigh was glad to hear they were strengthening their bond with each passing day.

Ashleigh sat back on the couch when she was alone again and took a deep breath. She glanced at the journal on the coffee table and wondered how Caleb would react to it.

Would he be glad to see his father’s handwriting? To listen to Cain’s words in his mind, and hear his voice? Would seeing that Cain was proud of him bring him peace? Or pain?

Ashleigh sighed.

She thought of her father’s laugh. Of his smile. She had heard Wyatt’s voice on the night of his pyre. He had encouraged her and told her that he was proud of her. But she hadn’t heard him since that night and wondered if she had imagined it.

Lily had told her that hearing the whispers of the dead was a gift that she had shared with her brother and passed down to Ashleigh.

Maybe it was her father.

It would make sense if it was. The way he had quieted the whispers and forced them to retreat back into the darkness with only a few words. She had barely heard from them since that night. Only occasionally.

It was nice to hear her own thoughts for a while. Even nicer to feel like her father was still with her.

But something inside of her told her that wasn’t exactly true. When he had spoken, it felt like a goodbye. It felt like he slipped away at the end.

She let out another sigh and closed her eyes.

The loss was suddenly weighing on her again. Maybe because of Wyatt’s connection to Cain, or perhaps because Tomas had been the cause of Cain’s death and his son had been the cause of Wyatt’s.

She could still remember the marks on his body. The stab wounds, the arrow. It was clear which wounds had been treated and which had been infused with silver.

Her father had been tortured in his last days. His final hours had been excruciating. He had died just outside the border. From what the autopsy said, he was alive an hour before Caleb found him.

An hour.

If they had known, if Alice had just called them, Ashleigh and Axel would have had the chance to say goodbye to their father.

She sighed.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

Ashleigh got to her feet, wondering if it was Clara.

“Did you forget someth–” Her words fell away as she opened the door and realized it was not Clara standing on the other side.

“Hey, Ashleigh,” Alice said with a smile.

***

“How is his progress?” the raspy voice whispered from the shadows.

“He is getting better every day.” Holden smiled, clenching his jaw. “He is already taken off all those tedious life-saving machines and walking around growling at this person and that.”

“And his eye?”

“Oh, that is hopeless, I’m afraid,” Holden said with an upturn of his lips that showed his true feeling on the subject. “But he still has the other. I’m sure he will make use of it.”

There was a scratching sound. Holden swallowed, recognizing it as that of roots dragging across the floor. He peered into the darkness, looking for any movement.

“You did good,” the voice whispered.

Holden swallowed as he felt the tension in his shoulders ease.

“Following close to Roman saved his life.”

“Yes, well, the impulsivity of that creature was bound to get him killed sooner or later.” Holden sighed.

“Yes…. His obsession with his mate did seem to be causing him a great deal of distraction,” the voice whispered. “But it won’t be a problem any longer.”

“True,” Holden replied. “Dead for a moment is still dead after all. And even the mate bond cannot persist through death.”

“It’s a shame that your obsession cannot be resolved so easily,” the voice hissed.

Holden gasped just before the vine flew out from the darkness and pierced his shoulder. He screamed as it pushed through his flesh and bone before bursting from the other side.

As he let out shaky, gasping breaths, the tendril slowly moved up his back. And over his other shoulder to wrap around his throat, smearing his own blood along his skin as it deliberately began to close off his airway.

“You are out of chances…” the voice whispered angrily. “You swore she would be useful. That she would not be a distraction or a hindrance!”

Holden gasped and gurgled as he tried to pull in even the slightest amount of air into his empty lungs.

“She is a liability and needs to be taken care of!” the voice hissed angrily.

The vine tightened at his throat. He was beginning to lose consciousness, the black closing in on his vision. Then, just before it settled over him entirely, the vine loosened around his throat. Holden took a deep, desperate breath.

He coughed as he took too much into his lungs too quickly. There was a sound in the darkness like a chuckle. And then the vine was quickly and painfully yanked back, dragging through Holden’s shoulder again.

He screamed out and then fell to his knees and vomited.

“You have four days to handle this. Either put her down like the dog she is…” the voice growled. “Or leash her and give her to Roman.”

Holden’s eyes widened, and he lifted his head to stare into the dark.

“Do not act shocked. You were warned more than once.”

“If I can just…. reset her.. she will be fine….” Holden huffed as he still struggled to regain his senses.

“I have made my decision,” the voice whispered angrily. “Do not think that you can fool me. Kill the doll, or give her to Roman. Those are your only choices.”

Holden clenched his jaw but said nothing.

“Clean up this mess,” the voice hissed before a sound echoed from the dark that told Holden he was now alone.

Still clenching his jaw, he slammed his fist into the ground angrily.