Page 125 of The Vixen

But this time…

I have a plan.

“Find Angel… And tell him I’m sorry.”

I turn and start toward the fence while Liberty calls after me. The grief in her voice sounds so foreign it’s hard to believe it’s directed at me. It’s hard to believe what twenty-four hours can change.

On the way back to the Keep, I pull the article from my pocket and rip it into as tiny of pieces as I can manage. I scatter them over the trail and crush them beneath my shoes, one more secret buried in the compound’s sour depths.

If Sawyer Hansley gets caught, so be it. The world will never know Sawyer Voss.

They won’t know Luna either.

CHAPTER 35

LUNA

Cheers ring out as the ceremony ends, but it’s the feminine wail piercing through the roar that catches my focus. Loud and shrill, like the woman’s vocal cords shredded on the first scream—an agony as recognizable to the ears as it is foreign to the heart.

Everyone ignores her. If it weren’t my hands responsible, I would too.

My eyes sweep the crowd as Thorne jumps into the arena. The smiles of the relieved shelter the source of the cries, and not a single wayward glance hints at the location of Alaric’s loved one.

My stomach curdles as Thorne steps over Alaric’s boots on his way to me. I’m standing tall, but he cradles my face as if I can barely stand.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. Crinkles fan from chocolate eyes; his lips ease in a pouted frown. All concern. All pain.

Later, I will tell him my ribs are fractured. That my injuries were worse than I realized, and that’s why Alaric managed to get to me.

“You’ve turned your back on the body,” I say—or maybe scowl—as I shove his giant hands off my face. Before he can correct his mistake, I step from behind his looming form.

I lift up my arms just as my father had and try to find him in the crowd. When our eyes lock, I hold his gaze.

“This isnota time for celebration,” I call out to my people. The cheers die a slow, halfhearted death. “This is a time for mourning.”

Father frowns.Openly, which is unlike him.

My arms lower as I roam my gaze through the crowd, searching for the hushed sobs of the?—

There.

Three rows back, a set of clothed knees peek through a forest of legs.

“Today, we lost a brother. Awarrior. And a friend… It brings me no comfort to be free of his loyalty nor his valor, and because you have trusted me with the safe-keeping of our home, I feel it is my duty to be transparent.”

Cupping my hands around my back, I roam the outer part of the circle. Every time my gaze draws to the sobs, I force my spine straight.

“Alaric was a good man who died because he followed orders that were not mine. I am not regretful of these actions. I cannot promise you a future where I will not take similar action.”

I stop, twist, and inhale a deep breath. “To follow a leader out of respect is patriotism. To follow one out of fear is tyranny. I have no desire to be a tyrant to my beloved people, and so I encourage you, Ibegof you my dear brothers and sisters…” I spin on my heel.

“Those who believe my actions to be oppressive, stand up for our people and break your clay. I will accept all challengers at once, and in my final moments, you will know I honor the wishes of the Shadow Sanctum. For the unit must come before the self. Only then will we prosper.”

As I raise my hands one last time, people chant—no,yell, the words ingrained into all of us. “The Unit before the self!”

I feel their enthusiasm, their love for our home, and I let it wash over me. Let it fill the hole in my gut and smooth the wrinkles from my brow. I have half a smile when Alaric’s mate stands and pierces me with a stare.

My lips fall as I watch her turn and shove past onlookers, not even waiting for her love to be carried away. Four Keepers step forward to lift Alaric’s body up while the crowd bows their heads to honor him. I bow mine as well, but as soon as he’s through the gap people make, I take off toward the Keep.