Nessa~
My side was still sore after the treatment, the skin pulled tight where Rowan had stitched the gash closed.
It tingled in that peculiar way healing wounds do, half itch half burn made worse by the lingering sensation of his fingers against my skin.
I hated that I could still feel it. Still feel him.
The memory rose unbidden: Rowan leaning close, his breath warm against my ribs as he'd cleaned the wound with surprising gentleness.
Then he'd done something that had nearly undone me, he'd blown softly on the tender flesh, cooling the sting of the vinegar.
Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory, and I pressed my palms against my face, willing the blush away.
One kind gesture didn't erase years of cold dismissal,the indignant looks, the accusations.
A soft knock at the door made me jump.
"Nessa?" A familiar voice. "It's me. Please, I need to talk to you."
Wren.
Relief flooded through me. I hurried to unlock the door, pulling it open to find my friend standing in the hallway.
She looked exhausted,her usually neat braid was coming undone, her clothes rumpled like she'd been traveling.
"Wren! I've been so worried. Where have you been? I haven't seen you in days."
She glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Can I come in? Please? I need to talk to you somewhere private."
"Of course." I stepped aside, letting her enter. She moved past me quickly, and I noticed she was limping slightly. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Just tired." But as she turned, I saw her wince and press a hand to her side.
Concern overrode everything else. "You're not fine. Sit down, let me look at that."
"Nessa, really, I—"
"Sit." I guided her to the bed.
When she finally moved her hand, I saw blood seeping through her shirt. "Gods, Wren! What happened?"
"It's not as bad as it looks," she said, but her voice was strained. "I just need to rest for a bit."
I grabbed Rowan's medical supplies,the irony wasn't lost on me,and started cleaning the wound. It was a nasty gash along her ribs, recent, still bleeding.
"How did this happen?" I asked, trying to keep my hands steady.
Wren was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was small, defeated. "I was trying to help you."
I paused, looking up at her. "What?"
"I couldn't stand it anymore, Nessa. Watching them treat you like you're nothing. Like you're a burden they're forced to carry."
Her amber eyes met mine, shining with
unshed tears. "You're my friend. You've been nothing but kind to everyone in this pack, and they repay you with coldness and rejection. It's not right."
My throat tightened. "Wren—"
"I started making contacts," she continued, the words tumbling out now. "Other packs. Neutral territories. Places where you could go and start fresh, away from all this. I just wanted to give you options.
To let you know you didn't have to stay here and suffer."
Understanding crashed over me like a wave. "That's why you've been gone? You were trying to find me a way out?"
She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "But someone found out. One of the border patrols caught me meeting with a wolf from the Crescent pack. They brought me in for questioning, accused me of treason." She laughed bitterly. "Maybe they're right. Maybe trying to help you escape does make me a traitor."
"No." I grabbed her hand, squeezing hard. "No, that makes you a good friend. The best friend I've ever had."
"They locked me up, Nessa. In the cell." Her voice broke. "They questioned me, tried to get me to reveal who else was helping, what I was planning.
But I didn't tell them anything. I wouldn't betray you like that."
Horror washed through me. Locked in those cold, dark stinky cells. Because of me.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "Wren, I'm so sorry. If I'd known—"
"It's not your fault." She wiped at her tears. "None of this is your fault. But I need your help now. I managed to convince a guard to let me out—told him I needed medical attention.
But they'll realize I'm gone soon. Maybe they already have."
"What do you need me to do?"
"I just need to get to the border. I have friends waiting, wolves who'll take me in. But I'm too weak to make it alone." She gripped my hand tighter. "Please, Nessa. I know it's asking a lot, but you're the only one I trust."
I didn't even hesitate. "Of course I'll help you. Let me just finish bandaging this, and then we'll—"
A howl echoed from somewhere in the pack house. Then another. The alarm.
They'd discovered she was gone.
Wren's face went pale. "We need to go. Now."
"Wait, let me at least—"
"There's no time!" She was already standing, pulling me toward the window.
"They'll search here first. You're Rowan's—" She stopped herself. "You're connected to them. They'll come here."
She was right. If they were looking for her, Rowan's chambers would be one of the first places they'd check.
"The servant's passages," I said, thinking quickly. "There's an entrance behind the bookshelf. It leads to the kitchen level, and from there we can get to the gardens without being seen."
"Show me."
I moved to the bookshelf, pressing the hidden latch Rowan had shown me. The panel swung open, revealing a narrow passageway.
"I'm so grateful nessa," Wren murmured, "it's alright let's hurry " I urged.
The passage was dark and cramped, forcing us to move single file.
I led the way, one hand trailing along the rough stone wall for guidance. Behind me, I could hear Wren's labored breathing.
"Are you sure you can do this?" I asked over my shoulder. "Yes I can she said her voice resolute.
We reached a fork in the passage. Left led down to the kitchens. Right led to the old wine cellars, unused for years.
"Which way?" Wren asked.
"Left. The kitchens will be busy with dinner prep, but there's a door that leads directly to the herb garden. From there—"
"Go right."
I stopped. "What? But I just said—"
"The kitchens will be full of witnesses. We need the cellars. Trust me."
"Wren, the cellars don't lead outside. They're a dead end."
"No, they're not. There's an old drainage tunnel, opens up into the forest beyond the eastern wall. It's how I was planning to get supplies in and out when—" She stopped.
"When I was making arrangements for you."
That made sense. She'd been planning this for weeks, she'd know routes I didn't.
"Okay," I said, turning right. "The cellars it is."
We descended deeper into the earth, the air growing colder and damper. The passage opened up into the wine cellars,rows of dusty racks holding bottles covered in cobwebs and forgotten time.
"There," Wren said, pointing to a grate in the far corner. "That's the drainage tunnel."
I moved toward it, but something made me pause. Turn back.
Wren was standing in the middle of the cellar, no longer holding her injured side. Her posture had changed, straightened, stronger. And her face...
Her expression was completely calm. No pain. No fear. No gratitude.
Just cold calculation.
"Wren?" My voice came out small, uncertain.
She sighed, and even that sounded different. Colder. "You're more observant than I gave you credit for."
"What?" My heart started pounding. "I don't understand"
"The injury," she said conversationally, lifting her shirt to show the gash. Except it wasn't bleeding anymore. Wasn't even deep.
It looked like stage makeup, carefully applied to look convincing. "Corn syrup and red dye. Very effective, don't you think?"
The world tilted.
I backed against the wall my heart pounding against my rib so loud I could hear it, but she was creeping towards me, like a predator stalking its prey.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," she said almost gently. "I don't want to hurt you, Nessa. I really don't. But I will if you make me."
I tried to shift, to call on my wolf's strength, but she was already in front of me. Something soft and chemical-smelling pressed against my nose and mouth, a cloth, soaked in something that made my head swim instantly.
"Shhh," Wren whispered as I struggled weakly against her hold. "I'm sorry it had to be this way. But they left me no choice. They took something from me, and now I'm taking something from them."
My vision was blurring, my limbs growing heavy. I tried to fight, but my body wouldn't respond.
"Sleep now," her voice seemed to come from very far away.
The last thing I felt before darkness swallowed me was her lowering me gently to the floor, her fingers brushing the hair from my face with genuine tenderness.