Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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I swear, if one more person looks at me like I’m a fucking wounded puppy, I’m throwing myself into the damn washtub.
The laundry room smells like damp fabric and cheap detergent, the kind that burns my nose if I inhale too hard. The pile of dirty clothes in front of me is a towering mess of sweat, musk, and poor life choices. I scrub at a shirt so aggressively that my knuckles sting against the washboard, the pain grounding me more than anything else has today.
The pity stares are unbearable. I can feel them drilling into my back, my arms, my still–bandaged hands. Whispered voices scrape at the edges of my patience.
“I heard she’s the Omega that was kidnapped.”
“She shouldn’t even be working yet.”
“Did you see her face? Looks like someone dragged her through hell.”
They aren’t wrong. I did go through hell. And apparently, I came back wearing a big neon sign that says kick me while I’m down.
Whatever. I don’t need their sympathy, and I sure as shit don’t need their judgment.
I finish the last of the washing, wringing out a towel so hard I half expect it to snap. As soon as I hang it up, I’m out of there, peeling off the suffocating attention like an itchy sweater. My muscles ache, a dull reminder that I shouldn’t be doing this much yet.
Dr. Lisa told me to check in whenever I could, and now seems as good a time as any before the other maids gets another bright idea to send me on some impossible chore.
By the time I reach my room, I’m already mentally preparing myself for the walk to the infirmary. But when I push the door open, I’m met with something unexpected–Enoch is standing near the window. He’s not reading as he usually does.
His book is abandoned on the table, his dark eyes already locked onto mine as if he knew I was coming. He steps forward, closing the distance between us, and without a single word, I know exactly what he’s about to do.
“No,” I deadpan, already exhausted.
His jaw tightens. Yes.
“No.”
He lifts his chin slightly, the stubborn gleam in his gaze making it clear that I have about five seconds to either accept this or be bodily dragged there.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Whatever. But you’re not carrying me or some macho shit like that.”
His lips twitch like he wants to smirk. I pretend not to notice.
As I move past him, I reach up and pat his head. “Good boy.”
His brows shoot up, but I don’t stick around to see his reaction. I’m already walking out the door, and to his credit, he follows without question.
The halls are their usual dreary self–gray stone, flickering torches, the occasional pair of judgmental eyes staring at us. Enoch’s presence alone makes people uneasy. He walks with a slow, purposeful stride, a kind of predatory gra people instinctively step out of his way. Must be nice.
We round a corner, and that’s when I see her.
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Seraphina.
93%
She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her expression carefully neutral. But there’s something in her eyes, something hesitant, like she actually has to work up the courage to talk to me.
Enoch doesn’t hesitate–bis growl is low and immediate, vibrating through the hallway like a warning bell. He knows.
Seraphina stiffens but doesn’t back away. “Can I talk to you?” she asks, her voice softer than usual. “Alone.”
I glance at Enoch. His shoulders are tense, his body radiating barely restrained aggression. He looks as thugh he wants to rip her throat out, and honestly, I’d probably let him if I weren’t so damn tired.
“It’s fine,” I say, waving him off. “Give us a minute.”
He doesn’t move.
I tilt my head. “Enoch.”
His teeth grit, but eventually, he steps away, though not far enough that he couldn’t intervene in half a second.
Seraphina exhales, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She’s nervous. Good.
“I should’ve said something,” she blurts out. “When you went missing.”
I blink at her. That was… not what I expected.
She continues, avoiding my gaze. “I knew where you were. Or at least–I knew you hadn’t just run away. I saw you being taken, and I didn’t say anything.” Her hands tighten into fists at her sides. “Because I knew if Kallias found you, he’d… he’d choose you. Again.”
A sharp, bitter laugh escapes me. “That’s what this was about? Your fucking ego?”
Her eyes snap to mine, and for the first time, I see something genuine there. Shame.
“I was selfish,” she admits. “And I-” She hesitates. “I’m sorry.”
For a second, I don’t say anything. I simply… stare at her, trying to understand what the hell I’m supposed to do with this.
I should hate her. And I do.
But I also don’t have the energy to carry that hate anymore.
I exhale, rubbing a hand down my face. “Fine. Apology accepted. But don’t think for a second that means I want anything to do with you.”
Her shoulders sag slightly, like she was expecting that. “Fair enough.”
I turn on my heel and walk away without another word.
Enoch is right where I left him, watching me carefully. I don’t say anything, just nod toward the hallway. “Come on.” We make it to the infirmary without another interruption, and the moment we step inside, Dr. Lisa is already waiting.
She takes one look at me and sighs. “Taryn, I swear, if you keep pushing yourself like this, you’re going to reopen your wounds.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
She doesn’t buy it. Instead, she gestures for me to sit while she carefully removes the bandages. The skin underneath is
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healing, still raw in places, but no longer the shredded mess it used to be
Dr. Lisa hums in approval. “Looks better than I expected
Then, her eyes slide to Enoch. “Your turn”
He stiffens
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Dr. Lisa doesn’t waver. “No visible wounds, but you’re completely healed now. Which means, by all logic, your memories should be back.” She pauses, watching him closely, “Are they?”
Silence.
His expression remains blank, his body still
Dr. Lisa doesn’t push, but her eyes narrow slightly. She knows something’s off.
And so do L
The silence stretches.
It’s thick. Unrelenting. A presence of its own, pressing against my chest with the weight of something unseen but deeply. profoundly felt.
Dr. Lisa’s question lingers in the air like a loaded gun.
“Are they?” I ask again to Enoch.
And Enoch just sits there, staring.
I swear, I can hear the slow tick of the infirmary’s shitty clock over the sound of my own pulse hammering in my ears. His expression is unreadable–stone–cold, carefully crafted. But his fingers twitch slightly on his knee, the only sign of life in his otherwise still body.
Then, finally-
“No.”
That single fucking word. Quiet, but final.
Dr. Lisa exhales, something like relief loosening her features. “That’s… strange,” she murmurs, but then shakes her head, like she’s trying to push away the doubt creeping in. “But it happens. Maybe I miscalculated the timeline.”
She mutters some medical bullshit under her breath, already dismissing it as nothing. And just like that, the tension evaporates, at least for her.
Not for me, though.
Because something about this feels… off.
Enoch won’t meet my eyes.
He’s lying.
I don’t know how I know–I just do. Like an itch I can’t scratch, buried deep beneath my skin. The way he ‘ · second too long before answering. The way his throat worked when he swallowed, like forcing the word no something.
‘ himself just a
cost him
Dr. Lisa gives us some half–assed instructions and waves us off, already moving on to the next thing in her day. I barely hear
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her. My head’s too full of him.
We step out of the infirmary, the door clicking shot behind us. The hallway is empty. It’s just us.
He doesn’t say anything. Neither do 1
Then, without warning. I grab his wrist. “Come with me?
I don’t wait for an answer. I just start walking.
He follows. No hesitation.
The way to the border is long, but we don’t talk. I’m too wrapped up in my own thoughts, in the nagging feeling that something about today isn’t sitting right.
He should remember by now.
So why is he still here?
The wind is sharp as we step past the last row of trees, into the clearing where my brother’s grave sits. It’s nothing fancy- just a small, hand–carved marker in the dirt, the wood worn from rain and time. I crouch down, brushing my fingers over the name.
Jesse Sinclair.
He was barely thirteen.
“We were running,” I say finally, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. “Through the unclaimed lands. We weren’t supposed to be there, but we didn’t have a choice.”
I don’t say from where.
I don’t say who we were running from.
“The rogues caught up to us. I tried to help, but my brother… My throat tightens. I clear it and push forward. “He didn’t make it.”
A muscle ticks in Enoch’s jaw. He still doesn’t speak, but his hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for me but doesn’t know if he should.
I look up at him, searching his face for something–anything. A reaction. A flicker of understanding.
His lips part. His breath is slow, controlled. His hands curl into fists like he’s fighting something inside himself.
And suddenly, I need to know.
“What are you hiding?” I whisper.
His eyes snap to mine, something feral, something hungry flashing in them.
He doesn’t answer.
But he steps closer.
Too close.
Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, the slow, measured way his chest rises and catches. My heartbeat stutters, then picks up like it’s trying to rip out of my ribs.
My breath
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I don’t move. Neither does he.
Then-
His gaze drops to my lips.
And my body betrays me.
I tilt my chin up, just slightly, my breath uneven. My fingers dig into the dirt, the cool earth grounding me just enough to remember where we are.
This is dangerous.
He is dangerous.
And yet, I don’t pull away.
I don’t think I can.
His breath brushes against my mouth, his lips just barely ghosting mine-
And then-
