Page 262 of Caged

“It’s not real. There are no kind, enchanted people full of magic. No one can talk to beasts, or bend shadows to their will. There’s no such thing as a crown of starlight.”

I see her physically swallow down her pain. I can tell the moment she shoves it down under layers of resignation.

“No one is going to lead anyone into battle. No one is going to stand against a forgotten foe.”

Another tear tracks down her cheek, and this one feels sadder, somehow. Full of resignation and submission.

“No one is going to save anyone.”

The defeat in her voice is a physical ache. I feel it when she raises those tear-filled eyes to mine. Her sigh is full of dejection. A sound containing a lifetime of disappointment and rejection.

“Because stories aren’t real.”

The finality in her tone breaks my heart.

Without looking at either of us, she exits the room on silent feet, leaving her heart lying bloody and broken at our feet. We watch her go, no one daring to breathe, let alone stop her. The sound of the door clicking softly shut reverberates through the room like a death knell.

It’s barely closed when I feel Riven move.

It’s slow. Predatory.

He walks right up to Dax, rotates, and punches him square in the jaw.

I cringe. Dax, clearly not expecting to get clocked in the face, reels. He stumbles into the side of the coffee table with a snarl.

He raises a hand to his bleeding mouth, and betrayal flickers in his eyes briefly before he masks it. “What the fu⁠—”

“Save it, asshole.” Riven growls. He actually fucking growls in Dax’s face. “She was nesting, you ignorant fuck.”

I reach out to steady myself on the first thing I can find—the chair she was sitting in. I knew. I knew the moment I saw her hands moving in those desperate, primal patterns. Having it confirmed, though… It’s like someone telling me my nightmares are actually real.

A nightmare of my own creation. Because, once again, I stood there and watched it happen. I knew we were pushing too hard, but I was too much of a coward to stand up to Dax. I fucking knew that, I just don’t want to admit it.

It’s easier this way. Easier to let him lead. To let him lay out his facts and convince us all that the Omega is evil, that she’s done monstrous things to hurt and nearly kill our brother.

And maybe she is. Maybe she has. But what we’re doing…

“All that brilliance,” Riven sneers, hands fisted at his side. “All that tactical intelligence and you couldn’t even tell when an omega was falling apart right in front of you. You missed the most obvious godsdamned signs in the room!”

He turns his rage on me next. “And you. Aren’t you supposed to be the fucking nice guy in this little threesome? Where the fuck are your instincts?”

I want to laugh. I nearly do, before realizing I’d have to explain myself, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m having that conversation tonight.

My instincts?

My instincts are in a fucking pile in the corner of my subconscious, buried with my Alpha. Because if I do what my fucking instincts urge me to do, I’d have marked, bit, mated, and fucked a baby into that Omega two days ago.

My instincts want me to tie my soul to an Omega I’ve never scented, and never fed from. An Omega who’s the reason my best friend is fighting for his life in a coma.

Quite honestly, my instincts need to be taken out back and shot. Put me and them both out of our godsdamned misery.

And what’s worse? My instincts are the reason my Curse exploded from my body for the first time in thirty fucking years just days ago. Thirty years of what I thought was control—gone.

All because my instincts went into protective mode.

I’m not in any position to trust a damn thing my instincts urge me to do. Clearly.

No.