Page 115 of The Vixen

Emotion flickers, little bursts of anger firing in my chest, and with it comes fear that it’ll grow. I almost ask Thorne to leave but instead go to my dresser and carefully take the black comb from its place in the top drawer.

“I brought you some ice,” he says, his voice soothing. Kind, though the gesture is pointless. As if the bruises haven’t already set. As if the wounds won’t inflame during the ceremony.

Closing my eyes, I comb my hair back and give each strand extensive care.

“My love,” he starts, his voice cracking. His hand curves over my shoulder, but he pulls it away when I tense. “I need you to call off the ceremony… I’ve already spoken to Jonah. He’s willing to?—”

The comb catches on a tangle as I scoff. I yank it free and bite my tongue instead of asking him to leave.

How far can two people pull apart before their bond breaks?

“Alaric is a good man. He was just following orders.Myorders.”

I lower the comb and turn to face him. “I know that, Thorne. And Ipityhim. It isn’t him I should be fighting.”

His eyes drift while he searches for understanding. When he finds it, he pulls his head back, jaw releasing like I’ve grown a new face. It’s a nanosecond before the rush of sorrow floods into his chocolate eyes. Enough to make me lower the comb.

His feet shuffle to create distance we both pretend not to notice. “You really think you could kill me?” The pain in his voice makes it clear he isn’t taunting me. It isn’t my physical capacity he’s questioning.

“No.” My face falls. “That’s why I have to fight Alaric… This can’t go unpunished. The Keepers made a move behind my back. Whether my father was responsible or not, I can’t allow it. Someone must be held accountable.”

The sorrow stiffens his face until I can no longer see it as he looks away, taking a deep breath. When he closes his eyes, I know I’ve won. Too easily.

“Then let me take your place.”

“No.”

His eyes pop open. “My love…ItrainedAlaric. And you’reinjured.”

The comb makes aslapwhen I set it down harder than I mean. “What are you insinuating?”

Thorne’s lips stumble.

“You think I’lllose?”

His big body slumps with an exhale. “Be reasonable. If I believed you would lose, Alaric wouldn’t be breathing… But I think he could hurt you.” Thorne’s head shakes. “I don’t want to see that, Luna. I can’t just stand back and?—”

“Then don’t come,” I snap. Too sharp. Too cold.

It doesn’t match the sudden churning in my gut. The emotion that’s stayed mercifully at arm’s length crawls closer until I feel like I’m standing on an icy lake. If it breaks, I’m done for. I know this.

So I stand straighter. I turn away, pick up the comb, and run it through my hair while biting my cheek.

Thorne just stands there staring at me. His confliction is palpable, smothering.

I wish I could reassure him. I wish I could remind him of the years I spent alone with my father as he trained me like he was molding an assassin. I think that might have been his purpose. I think I’m almost what he wanted me to be.

But I can’t reassure Thorne because I need the fight to last as long as will be believable. Sawyer needs the time.

That requires taking a few hits.

“I love you.” Thorne kisses the side of my head as I twist my hair into a tight bun. “And I would never miss an opportunity to support you. No matter how bad it hurt.”

With that he leaves, his weight pressing cracks into the ice on the way out.

You will never be good enough for him.

I pull on my coat, roll my shoulders back, and leave the safety of my room before it can drown me.