Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

had an entire night of peace, of much needed rest." Her voice wavered. This should have been good news, great news. But something hung heavy in her voice that sent a chill up my spine.

“What happened to Xander?" I asked, but I already knew. Her eyes met mine, a glimmer of moisture lining her lower lashes.

“He's gone. Oliver believes he was taken through the portal."

I chewed the inside of my cheeks as I sat down at the patio table across from her, folding my hands in my lap.

“He knows what he's doing," I said shakily, but Maeve sucked in her breath, blowing it back out again.

I could do nothing but stare out at the turbulent water as Maeve described what Oliver and Xander had accomplished, and the tragedy that followed. Oliver had woken up in Breles, panic stricken and frantic. He'd almost died. He should have been dead. Xander's warriors who had gone to Crimson Creek with them had found Oliver practically crushed inside a truck the next morning, unconscious, and Xander was nowhere to be found.

Oliver told his father everything, and now an allied force was guarding the portal day in and day out, killing any and all vampires who crossed through when night fell. It was working, and could have signaled the end of the conflict if the vampires hadn't been crossing through the realms using the bloodstone, creating small fissures that closed up within minutes.

“Oliver told Troy that the last thing he remembers was feeling like a blanket was wrapping around him, shielding him from whatever took Xander," Maeve concluded.

I didn't wipe the tears away. My heart was beating slow, too broken to react. I felt numb, weightless, like I was simply existing and incapable of feeling.

If Oliver had been that hurt, so hurt that even his powers of healing couldn't heal himself, Xander would have been just as hurt if not more so.

Would I have felt it if he died in another realm?

I reached up to absently touch the mark above my breast, and I felt nothing.

“I need to go to Crimson Creek," I said without looking at her.

“I know."

“You can't stop me from going–"

“I won't," Maeve replied, her voice firm and steady. “I wouldn't stop you. No one will stop you."

“What about my dad?" I asked, glancing at her.

Maeve's lips pursed, her gaze fixed on her empty glass. “He won't know. Not until you're already on your way."

I nodded, blinking back a fresh wave of tears as I looked out over the water once more. Fog was heavy on the water now. Whatever boat they were sending, well, all I could do was pray that they had a stellar navigation system on board.

Nothing was going to prevent me from finishing this, from saving my mate.

Or avenging his death.

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***

Oliver drank deeply from a metal canteen, his eyes lined with purple and green bruises that looked almost unreal. I'd never seen anyone look so beaten before, not in my life. His major wounds had healed but left severe bruising all over his body. He was shirtless, sitting up on a cot in a windblown canvas tent just outside the port of Breles, his eyes shadowed by pain and fatigue.

“You need rest–"

“I'm going with you," he retorted, effectively ending whatever argument I'd been planning to start. I had been in Breles for less than an hour. I'd been escorted to Uncle Troy's tent and given new clothes, thick and warm thermals and armor made of steel and leather. Maeve quickly braided my hair and wound the braid into a bun at the nape of my neck, fixing a black beanie over my striking white hair. A belt heavy with knives like the ones we'd been given in Brune hung from my waist.

I'd left the tent the second I was dressed and suited up for whatever battle I'd face on my journey to Crimson Creek.

My heart squeezed painfully when Troy asked if I'd at least see my dad before I left. I couldn't. I couldn't for more reasons than the fact he would fight me tooth and nail when he found out what I meant to do. I hadn't seen him in months in reality, even if it felt like only a few weeks had passed to me.

But he'd been at war. He'd seen things I couldn't fathom. I was afraid that when I looked into his eyes I would see nothing but a void of death and exhaustion, any shred of the kind, loving man he'd been before the war–a war I could have finished before it started–erased.

It was my fault he was here.

Oliver waved his hand in front of my face, and I reared back, clearing my throat as the motion broke me from my heartbreaking internal reflection.

“I'm leaving now," I said, standing up as he started reaching for his clothes.

“Give me five minutes. I can get us a truck, or something."

“Xander's warriors are going to escort us. They already have something lined up."

“Ah, Johnny and Colton? Meatheads, those two. More brawn than brains–"

“Will you just get dressed?" I snapped, then mumbled an apology.

Oliver didn't snap back at me like he normally would have. He was just as resigned as I was as he got dressed and pulled on his armor and gear. I stole a glance at his battered legs and winced as I looked away. I could see where his legs had been crushed and broken at one point. Injuries like that would have killed the average shifter instantly.

Oliver wasn't average, not a bit.

“You're really going in?"

“Yes," I said without hesitation.

“Cool. I was hoping you'd say that," he said, and I looked up at him, our eyes locking on each other. “You're not going to do this alone, Lena. I promise. Xander was–is… he is my friend."

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“Thank you," I whispered, the words all I could muster as I swallowed back the fractured emotion threatening to take over my calculated, calm reserve.

Remain emotionless, void, resigned. Hide your fear, your anguish, your worry.

Bottle it all up, and put a bow on it, and give it all to the king when you shred him into pieces with your powers.

I let out my breath as Oliver finished dressing, and we turned to leave his tent. It was pitch black, nothing but the muted lantern light of passing warriors to guide us to where I was supposed to meet John and Colton.

We reached the very edge of the war camp where the front lines were stationed, but idle. Beyond were the ruins of Breles, nothing but rubble and shadow against the starry horizon.

“I thought I'd be seeing you again," came a familiar voice through the darkness, and I turned to find Gideon leaning against a truck, his arms crossed over my chest.

I wasn't a hugger, but that was exactly what I did. I ran to him and threw my arms around his chest and nearly lost control of the tears that were threatening to spill down my cheeks.

Two men I didn't recognize were standing with Gideon. I assumed they were John and Colton, Xander's warriors. They bowed their heads to me, and I felt a shock roll over my skin at the gesture.

“Luna," John said, meeting my eye as he straightened up.

Luna. I was, at least… I would be. I would be the Luna of Egoren.

“Let's go find our Alpha," I said firmly, and so we did.

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