Chapter 3 Three

Thunder cracks across the night sky. Lightning flashes in the distance as I collapse to the ground, struggling to catch my breath. I don't remember where I am or anything else. All I know is that I've been walking until the soles of my feet bleed against the wet forest soil. My back hits a tree, and I slide down its damp trunk, barely able to breathe. "Run!" The voice returns, sharp and commanding, slicing through my haze like a knife. "I'm tired." My voice is dry and cracked, barely audible above the howling wind. My body sinks into the cold, damp earth as rain stings through my tattered dress like ice. "Elowen, you have to run!" The voice trembles with desperation. "We can't die like this." We? Nevertheless, I try. But my body refuses to move. "I won't let us die!" The voice roars, its command rattling every nerve in my body. A sudden, inexplicable surge of strength courses through me. My fingers dig into the earth, and my legs begin to move, dragging me forward inch by inch despite my numbness. "Who's there?" A blinding torchlight shines on me from the distance, followed by approaching footsteps. "It looks like a girl. She's wounded." The figures draw closer, their lights blinding me. I try to focus on them, but my body gives out before I can make out their faces. Darkness claims me. * * * "No!" Air tears from my lungs as I jolt awake, my body trembling. The sheets are wrong. Too soft, too cool, silk instead of the wool I've slept in all my life. My limbs feel like they belong to someone else, stiff and heavy, and both my wrists are wrapped in clean white bandages. The room smells of lavender, and underneath it, something sharper. Medicine. My head throbs, and the ringing in my ears makes it difficult to see clearly. "Finally." I turn toward the voice. Two silhouettes come into view, one sitting and the other standing. "Two weeks," the man says. Flat. Like a verdict. I wince, groaning in pain. Two weeks? "What's going on?" Silence. "Where am I?" My vision slowly clears, revealing two strangers staring at me with stoic expressions. Their brown eyes radiate an aura unlike anything I've encountered before. Wolves? Yes. But something more. Then it hits me. My eyes! My fucking blue eyes! "Is she stable?" the man asks over my head, as if I'm furniture. A mirror. I need a mirror. I scramble across the room, searching desperately for the one thing that will determine whether I live or die. If they see my blue eyes, my secret will be exposed. The atrocity of having human blood in me. The monstrosity of being a hybrid. Wolves hate humans. My parents drilled that into me from my earliest memories. I've always vowed never to reveal my secret. "Honey, calm her down," the woman says. I keep my head lowered, scanning the room. A black jacket lies folded over the chair by the window, too large to belong to either of them. It smells of smoke and rain as I stumble past it. I don't have time to wonder whose it is. Then a glint catches my eye. A mirror. My legs move faster than I'd have thought possible, but my knees buckle. I stumble toward it, moving only as fast as my weakened body allows. "Enough!" A thunderous boom fills the room. Before I can react, the man's hand clamps around my arm, his fingers tightening until I feel the bone. His eyes have flushed red at the edges, his wolf pressing right up against the surface. This is it. The end. I know that look. I was raised to know it. I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart pounding as I wait for what I've always been told happens to someone like me. Brutal death. But seconds pass. The pressure of his aura eases, and his nails loosen against my skin. I slowly open my eyes to find him still staring at me. Only now, his expression has changed. My shoulders drop before I can stop them. Contacts. Still in. "You are Renna, our daughter. That is the exchange for your life." "What?" "Renna Mortimer." His voice is cold. "No..." I splutter. "I am..." "I don't care who you think you are." He cuts me off. "We saved your life, and in exchange, you will be whoever we want you to be." I stumble backward until the back of my knee hits the bed. "Who are you?" "Your parents." "No, who the fuck are you people?" The words escape me in a frightened rush. "Why am I here? Where am I?" The ache in my head returns with full force. The room tilts, and my knees give out. The floor is cold under my palms. Memories crash into my mind. My masquerade. The branding. The attack. The commanding voice in my head. My father. Dad! My chest caves in as though something has been torn from it. The pain climbs into my throat, pressing behind my eyes until I can barely breathe. My breath hitches. I lift my gaze to the couple standing over me. "I am not Renna." The words struggle to leave my lips. The only thing I have left is myself. My identity. Nothing else. Not even my father. I can't let them take that from me. "If this is what we've settled on, I'll have them return you to where you were found." His jaw tightens. "The way you were found." "Bloodied, filthy, and closer to the afterlife," the woman adds. "Don't mistake us for good Samaritans." "Roger!" A hefty man fills the doorway, a scar dragging down one cheek and disappearing into his collar. He looks at me the way a butcher looks at something he hasn't priced yet. "We'll send a letter to defer her admission to Quill Ascendancy." Quill? My fingers turn cold. The man turns away, gesturing toward the brute. "Get her!" "Wait!" I cry, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Quill. I remember the name clearly. It's what my father called him. The man whose son took everything from me. Is this the second chance I prayed for? I don't know how I ended up here. My last memory is of the boy standing over me with cruel intentions. I shudder as a tear slips down my cheek. The couple's glacial gazes settle on me, waiting. "Why do you need me to be your daughter?" "You don't question us," the woman replies. "When the time is right, you'll understand." She continues, "All you need to do is attend Quill Ascendancy in the capital as our daughter. It's a school only the nobles of nobles can dream of attending." "A school reserved for the point-one percent. A privilege just to mention its name." "Will the son of Quill be there?" "That is none of your concern," the man cuts in. "Your job isn't to get close to him." But there's a chance I'll be near him. That's enough. "A job you won't be getting." He turns away as the scarred man approaches. "No!" The word tears from my throat. My eyes widen, desperation clawing at my chest. "And why is that?" Mrs Mortimer asks. Slowly, I rise to my feet, meeting the two pairs of brown eyes watching me. Waiting for my decision. Elowen Valebrook couldn't save him. Let her go quiet. Let her sit underneath, where no one can reach her. Renna can. "Because I am your daughter." I swallow hard. "Renna Mortimer."