Chapter 348
Chapter 348
Drix collapses to his knees, pulling me down with him so suddenly I barely keep my balance. I catch him immediately, arms wrapping around his shaking frame as he folds into me, his face buried hard against my shoulder. His back is hunched painfully to reach my height, every tremor in his body violent enough that it rattles through my bones. His grief doesn’t stay with him either—it spills straight into me through the mate bond, raw and suffocating, and before I can stop it, my own vision blurs with tears.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I keep whispering, almost without thinking. My hands move over his back and the back of his head in frantic, soothing motions. I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known what would happen. I wouldn’t have dragged him through this again.
“Why do you keep doing this to me? Why?!” His voice breaks halfway through, muffled against my shoulder, each word ripped out of him with anguish.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, forcing the words out through the tightness in my throat. “I didn’t mean it. I saw my father— I think it was him. He took Scarlette and me somewhere. We didn’t know what would happen, I swear, I’m sorry.”
Somewhere beside us, Scarlette is on the move, her voice sharp with urgency. “Hello… yes, it’s me, Scarlette. Please, where is Cooper?… I know, I know, that’s exactly why I’m calling—”
I stop listening. It all fades into background noise as I focus on Drix, pressing my presence into the bond as firmly as I can, trying to steady him with nothing but instinct and connection. Gillian is already on the ground nearby, one hand braced against the earth, breathing hard as he tries to recover from the shock. I can feel the pack link buzzing at the edge of my mind, voices pressing in with questions, concern, panic, all demanding answers I can’t give right now. I block it out. I can’t handle anything else.
“Please… forgive me. I didn’t know.”
“Over there! They’re over there!” Jerry’s voice cuts through the chaos.
I flinch and lift my head from Drix’s shoulder, wiping my blurred vision just in time to see him rushing towards us with the priest and a small group of others close behind. His face is flushed, angry and relieved all at once.
“Baby tooth, what happened?! You scared the absolute hell out of us!”
It’s the most anger I’ve ever seen from him. It makes my chest tighten all over again.
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” I call back quickly, still half-clinging to Drix. “Scarlette and I were taken by my father’s spirit. We found something about Hiems Zales, but we didn’t know any of this would happen, I swear!”
“I knew,” Zinnia remarks lazily in my mind, almost bored.
“Shut it, bitch,” I shoot back bitterly.
“You found something?” Drix asks suddenly, his voice calmer now, almost controlled—as if he hadn’t just fallen apart in my arms seconds ago.
He pulls back from me, dragging a hand across his face to wipe away the last of his tears. His breathing is still uneven, but he’s holding himself together again.
I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “Yes. We found a cave where Liviana stayed. A hidden place where she was obsessed with Hiems Zales. And she’s—”
“Breathe. Start from the beginning,” Zinnia cuts in sharply.
“Fuck you,” I snap inwardly, then force myself to inhale properly, closing my eyes for a brief second as I steady my voice before continuing.
I open my eyes and relay everything from the cave, deliberately skipping how we got there. The moment I finish, the air turns heavy. Their expressions harden into something unreadable, but Drix… Drix looks calm. Too calm. I know that look now—it isn’t peace, it’s composed rage. He’s forcing himself to stay composed in front of others while something inside him is still breaking apart. And that realisation lands like a stone in my gut because it means I’m not just in trouble, I’ve genuinely shattered something in him again.
“I’m sorry to disturb you and I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but it’s time she leaves,” the priest says sharply, his face twisted in a scowl that makes my skin crawl.
Drix reacts instantly, a low, vicious growl tearing out of him as he snaps his head towards the man. The priest stumbles back so fast he nearly trips over himself, his confidence evaporating into trembling fear.
I instinctively reach up and pat Drix’s back, trying to ground him. “It’s alright. Let’s go. I don’t want to be in this garbage land anymore. A place full of godforsaken lunatics serving a self-absorbed goddess doesn’t deserve my presence anyway,” I mutter, half honest, half fuelled by emotion I can’t properly sort out right now. It’s petty, but it lands exactly where I want it to.
Drix rises without a word, hauling me up with him before I can even take a step. I expect to walk. Instead, he lifts me bridal style and turns away from the priest as if he’s already erased him from existence.
The forest on the way back feels longer, heavier, like the world itself is dragging its feet. Drix doesn’t speak; the silence between us is worse than shouting. The grief pouring through our mate bond has turned cold and jagged, each wave scraping painfully across my heart like broken glass.
I can feel it cutting both ways.
After we clear the trees, he doesn’t even slow down—he simply hands me off to Gillian like I’m fragile cargo and walks ahead without looking back.
I can’t bring myself to chase him or say anything that might make it worse. Even on the way to the jet, he treats my existence like background noise. Normally, my wolf would be pacing, whining, clawing at the bond in panic—but she’s disturbingly quiet, almost detached, and that scares me more than his anger. I’m stuck between guilt and confusion, trying to figure out why I’m the one being punished when I’m not the one who caused this.
By the time we board the jet, Gillian lowers me beside Jerry and I barely register it before Jerry pulls me into a tight hug. I’ve been holding back tears for hours, and I can’t hold them back any longer.
Jerry rubs my shoulder gently, his voice softer than I expect. “It’s alright, Sugar Fish. His emotions are all over the place because he thought he lost you.”
“It’s not my fault,” I mutter, throat tight.
“It is, foolish little cat,” he replies without hesitation, not unkind but not sugar-coating it either. “So you couldn’t tell him you were following your father’s spirit on a journey? Might I add that following ghosts is generally considered a terrible idea?”
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen my father,” I murmur automatically—then stop. The words hang in the air as the truth settles in my mind, cold and uncomfortable. I haven’t told them everything about those visions. Not even Hendrix.