Chapter 40 CHAPTER 40
\[Rhea’s POV\]
Mark stared at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated fury. He stayed slumped against the wooden crates for a moment, his hand clutching his chest where my foot had made contact. I could see the struggle in his breathing, the way his ribs hitched. He hadn't expected me to fight back. He had spent time breaking my spirit, convincing me that I was weak and that I needed him to survive. Seeing me stand there with broken ropes at my feet was a reality he wasn't ready to accept.
"You think you’re strong now?" He hissed, his voice sounding pained. He spat a glob of blood onto the floor and used the crates to haul himself up. "You’re a halfling, Rhea. You’re fragile. You’ve always been fragile. That little burst of adrenaline won't save you from me. Give it up before you make things worse for yourself."
"I am done listening to you," I snarled. My voice didn't even sound like mine anymore; it was lower, coming straight from Nyra.
The basement was small and cluttered. My eyes darted around, looking for anything I could use. Mark started to take a slow step toward me, ignoring the pain in his chest. He thought he could still intimidate me. He thought he could just reach out and reclaim his property.
I didn't wait for him to get close. I grabbed the heavy wooden chair I had been tied to only moments before. With a surge of wolf-strength that made the wood feel light as a feather, I hauled it over my head and threw it at him with everything I had.
His eyes widened. He tried to duck, but he wasn't fast enough. The chair caught him right in the shoulder and head, the wood splintering upon impact. He let out a sharp cry of pain as he was sent crashing back down to the ground, his head bouncing off the concrete floor. He groaned, his movements becoming sluggish and disoriented.
I didn't stop to celebrate. I grabbed a thick, heavy wooden stick that was leaning against a nearby workbench.
"Don't try anything stupid, Rhea," a cold voice warned.
I spun around to see Isolde standing by the door. She hadn't moved to help Mark. She was watching me warily, the silver knife held out in front of her. Her green eyes were glowing with that sickly magical light again, her face twisted. She saw the chair. She saw Mark on the floor. She knew I wasn't the easy target I had been an hour ago.
"Isolde," I whispered, my heart aching even through the rage. "I look at you and I don't even know who you are. All those years... all those times I thought you had my back. How could you do this? How could you betray me for a man you don't even like?"
Isolde’s grip on the knife tightened. "I told you, it wasn't just about him. It was about everything. It was about the fact that you always get to be the star. I’m tired of living in your shadow, Rhea. I’m tired of being the 'best friend.' I want what’s mine."
"By killing me?" I asked, taking a step toward her. "You think the professors will ever want a murderer? You think they won't know?"
"They won't know if there’s no body," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Now, put the stick down. You can't escape. I’ve lived in this house my whole life. I know every exit. You won't make it past the door."
I glanced back at Mark. He was starting to stir again, his fingers clawing at the floor as he tried to find his footing. I knew my window of opportunity was closing. If he got up and joined her, I was finished. I couldn't fight both of them at once. It was now or never.
"I’m leaving, Isolde," I said firmly. "Move out of the way."
"No," she hissed.
Without another word, I charged at her. She screamed, lunging forward with the knife. I tried to dodge, but the space was too narrow. I felt the cold, sharp sting of the blade as it sliced through the skin of my upper arm.
The pain was blinding, but I didn't let it stop me. I used the momentum of my charge to swing the heavy stick. I aimed for her head, putting every ounce of my desperation into the blow.
CRACK.
The stick connected with the side of her head and her eyes rolled back instantly. She crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The silver knife clattered away, sliding under the workbench.
I stood over her for a second, my chest heaving, blood from my arm dripping onto the floor. I felt a flash of horror at what I had done, but then I heard Mark let out a loud, angry growl behind me.
"Rhea!" he barked.
I didn't look back and bolted through the open door, scrambling up a set of narrow, creaking wooden stairs. I burst through another door at the top and found myself in a dark kitchen. I looked around, realizing that I was in Isolde’s house. Her basement precisely.
I didn't stop to think about it and ran for the front door, fumbling with the lock until it clicked open. I burst out into the night air, the cold wind hitting my face like a slap.
I didn't know what time it was, but the street was dark and empty. I started to run, my feet pounding against the pavement. My arm was throbbing, the blood soaking through my sleeve and running down my hand, but the adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, keeping the pain at bay.
I headed for the only place I knew was truly safe. The professors' house.
Every shadow looked like Mark. Every rustle of the wind sounded like Isolde’s voice. I kept looking back over my shoulder, my eyes searching the darkness for the headlights of a car or a figure running after me. My lungs were burning, my legs felt heavy, but I didn't slow down. I ran until the familiar iron gates of the house came into view.
I reached the front door, my hands shaking so badly I could barely remember the security code Lucien had told me. I punched the numbers in with trembling fingers, praying I hadn't forgotten them.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Click.
The lock turned. I shoved the door open and stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind me. I turned the deadbolt and leaned my back against the wood, my legs finally giving out. I slid down to the floor, my breath coming in jagged, sobbing gasps.
I was safe. I was inside.
I looked around the dark, empty foyer. The house felt huge and silent, the scent of cedar and rain still lingering in the air, but it only made me feel more alone. I pulled my knees to my chest, burying my face in my hands. I was covered in blood, my best friend had tried to kill me, and the man I was supposed to marry was a monster.
"Lucien... Damian..." I whispered, the tears finally flowing freely. "Please come back. I can't do this alone."
I sat there on the floor for a long time, crying until I had no tears left. I felt hollow, like everything good in my life had been stripped away in a single night. I was terrified that Mark would find a way in. I was terrified that Isolde would wake up and come for me.
Then, I felt it.
Nyra, lifted her head, letting out a soft, hopeful whine.
I could feel them. It was like a golden thread had been tied to my heart, and someone was pulling on the other end. It was the twin wolves. They were calling to mine, their presence echoing through the mate bond with a strength that was almost overwhelming.
They weren't here physically but I could feel them.