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Twenty Two

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Killian saw me let the shifter go. The realisation hits me like a ton of bricks, sending my heart to my stomach. I can't look away from him, my hands quivering at my sides. The late nights in the forge searching for the deserters. The midnight trainings with Casimir. The aching bones, heart, mind.

It was all for nothing.

I could've killed him. One inch tilted upwards; my dagger would've punctured his heart.

But I wasn't thinking about Trina. I wasn't thinking about Casimir, or my father, and I certainly wasn't thinking about the fact that Killian was right behind me. I was thinking of Samu. I was thinking about how they had the same eyes, how the shifter looked just as afraid as I felt.

What have I done?

"Where's Tetterman's son?" Jessenia demands, growing impatient.

"I—" The words choke in my throat. I stare at the ground, at my bloodied hands, anywhere but her face. Because when they find out the truth, that I let him go, Trina will never trust me. She'll never let me join them.

I'll never find Samu.

"He's dead." Killian's voice silences the pounding in my ears. My eyes dart to his. His lips press together in a firm line, eyes drawing to my bloodied hands. "Freya killed him."

"The body?" Jax asks.

"I took care of it."

Jax nods in approval before looking at me kneeling on the forest floor. "Get up," he orders. "We have to get back."

I force myself to my feet, tucking my bloodied dagger back in the sheath. I try to wipe the blood off my hands but it's dried in the crevices of my palms, a visual reminder. You failed.

Jax shoves past me, Coax and Jessenia on his tail.

I wrap an arm across my chest, turning to stare at Killian still standing on the other side of the clearing. He steps towards me, eyes raking across my face. My breath still comes in short, sharp gasps as he reaches me.

"You cut his throat." His tone is flat as his gaze traces my neck. "He tried to choke you. He clawed you. But you killed him, dagger to the throat, and I disposed of the body. Do you understand?"

I follow his gaze to my wrist. My blood seeps through the crescent moon shapes, prickling at the broken skin. Killian's fingers brush beneath my chin, guiding my gaze to his.

"Freya," he says, low. I open my mouth, but no words come out. "Do you understand?"

I manage to nod.

He drops my chin and takes a step back, eyes holding mine. He nods me forward, waiting until I turn around and follow after Jax and Jessenia, who haven't bothered to wait for us. And as I walk, I try to sort through the thoughts racing through my mind.

Killian Li is many things—a deserter, arrogant, handsome, painfully perceptive. But for the first time since I met him, I begin to wonder if I completely misjudged him. Because even though I still don't know that much about him, there's one thing I'm certain—Killian Li said he'd protect me. And he did.

***

Jax doesn't blindfold me on the way back. But before we know it, we're back at the underground entrance. I was too distracted the entire walk to even notice where we were headed. I can't repress what happened—there are reminders in the red staining my hands, on the ache in my throat and stinging of my wrists.

Reminders of what I didn't do.

I'd been so prepared to kill, so confident that it would be easy for me. But that shifter looked no different to me—it didn't look like the wolves in my dreams, and all I can wonder is why?

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