Chapter 29: Quinn

It’s quiet for exactly three seconds after Kieran speaks. Three seconds of still air, stilled breath, stilled motion. I don’t even realize I’ve frozen until the clatter of Kellan’s fork breaking the silence makes my shoulders jump.

“Wait—” Kellan says, narrowing his eyes as he leans forward over the long table, his elbow knocking his drink just enough to send a ripple through the surface. “What do you mean she’ll get to Thisbe?”

My stomach drops.

Kieran doesn’t look up from his coffee at first. He takes a sip as though the question isn’t loaded, as though the witch’s name doesn’t thicken the air with something heavier than caution and closer to warning. Finally, he places the mug down and lifts his gaze slowly.

“She wants to speak to the witch,” he says, like it’s the weather. Like we’re discussing some local healer and not the oldest creature to walk the Ashen Vale, the one the villagers still leave offerings for in the woods, the one who speaks in riddles and answers in curses.

Kellan’s smile fades entirely. Not that I ever believed it was real to begin with—Kellan’s the kind of person who wears calm like armor and amusement like a weapon. But now? Now there’s something behind his eyes that’s suddenly very clear and very sharp.

“Why?” His voice loses its lilt. “Why would she want that?”

“She has her reasons,” Kieran replies before I can open my mouth, and his tone has sharpened in that muted, dangerous way he uses when he’s drawing boundaries no one else can cross.

But Kellan just stares at him; no smile now, no cocky glint in his eye. There’s something else layered there; something I don’t understand but can feel crawling across my skin like a warning.

That look lasts too long. Long enough for me to realize they’re not just staring… they’re communicating.

I’ve written about this. Pack-bonded wolves who communicate via mind link. But knowing it on paper doesn’t prepare me for seeing it in front of me.

Kieran’s head tilts just a little, like he’s listening to something no one else can hear. Kellan leans back in his chair, arms crossed, the grin gone and replaced with something more… calculating.

Now it feels invasive. Now it feels like I’m standing in a room full of secrets I don’t get to hear, even though they’re about me.

I press my back a little harder into the chair, gripping the edge of the table like it’ll keep me grounded. My tongue is dry against the roof of my mouth. There’s a war happening in silence, and I’m the cause of it.

Again.

“Did she tell you what for?” Kellan’s voice is too casual now, and that makes it worse. He turns his attention to me, all polite interest layered over something colder. “Or are we just playing charades with forbidden witches and pretending it’s for fun?”

Kieran doesn’t answer him right away, and when he does, his voice is still calm; too calm. “She didn’t need to.”

I can feel Kellan’s gaze cutting through me, and I don’t want to flinch under it, but my body has other plans. The eggs on my plate are cooling, untouched. My appetite shrivels under the weight of this new scrutiny..

“You’re serious about this?” he asks, directing it to Kieran.

“She asked,” Kieran replies.

“She asked?” Kellan repeats, laughing under his breath, incredulous. “You don’t even let people ask for the last biscuit on your plate, but she asks to find the most dangerous, unpredictable witch in existence and you’re just what—gonna walk her to the edge of the forest with a fucking gift basket?”

Kieran doesn’t answer immediately. He shifts his posture, forearms bracing against the table, every movement threaded with intent. “If she needs something from Thisbe,” he says, “then she’s going to get it.”

“Why?” Kellan finally asks, turning his attention back to me. “You think she’ll send you home?”

I blink. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just… I need to talk to her.”

Killian watches me now too. I’ve officially become the topic of interest again, only this time, it feels like I’m not entirely welcome.

Kieran doesn’t correct Kellan. He just sits there, fingers curled around his coffee mug, gaze locked on his brother like they’re still mid-conversation.

Kellan raises a brow. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Not yet.”

“Tell me what?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, even though my skin is prickling like someone opened a window I didn’t see.

Kellan’s attention shifts back to me. “You think Thisbe’s just a witch?”

I frown. “Isn’t she?”

“She’s a lot of things. A liar, a manipulator, and a creature who doesn’t give without a price.” He leans forward, forearms braced on the table, his voice still easy but edged now. “What exactly are you asking from her, little red? She’s a creature of consequence. The kind you don’t walk away from clean.”

“I’m not trying to walk away clean,” I mutter, standing slowly. “I’m trying to walk away free.”

“Of what?” Killian asks.

I hesitate.

Of his brother. Of this place. Of the terrifying truth that I’m trapped inside a world I built with my own hands, a world that’s beginning to bend in ways I didn’t plot or plan. Of the bond that hums in the marrow of my bones every time Kieran looks at me like I’m his favorite sin.

But I can’t say that.

“I need answers,” I say instead. “She might have them.”

Kellan snorts. “She’ll have more than that. She always does. The question is whether you’ll survive what she makes you pay for them.”

Kieran stands too, slow and deliberate. “She’ll survive,” he says. “She’s mine.”

The room doesn’t react to those words the way I do. My stomach flips, my lungs lock, my chest goes tight, but they don’t even blink. It’s not a new claim, nor a surprise. It’s just a truth they’ve already accepted.

“Then I hope she doesn’t make you regret that,” Kellan mutters, shoving his plate away and standing too. “Because if she does… you know what comes next.”

There’s something final in his voice, but Kieran just nods. “I do.”

That terrifies me more than anything else because Kieran knows exactly what he’s risking.

And he still chooses me.