Chapter 13 THE SEND OFF.
Venessa’s POV.
I had tried to escape again and the guards had caught me.
The first drop of the sedative hit my tongue and Dante hadn’t stayed to watch.
He couldn’t even look at me long enough to see the guards pin me down.
He had walked out, leaving me to the mercy of a pack doctor.
"It’s for your own good, Your Majesty," the doctor murmured.
I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to tell him that "good" died the moment Dante chose a crown over me But the drug was fast.
My limbs turned heavy. The world tilted, the gold-leaf ceiling of my bedroom spinning until it was nothing but a blur.
My eyes drifted shut.
I expected the dark.
I expected the heavy, dreamless sleep that usually comes with being drugged into submission. Instead, the darkness cracked open.
I felt a weight in my hands. The smell of woodsmoke and expensive bourbon filled my nose.
I reached up to rub my eyes, and my hand was huge—scarred, tan, and steady.
I wasn't Venessa anymore. I wasn't even in my body
I was seeing through the eyes of the King.
Dante was in his study.
The room was dark, lit only by a single candle that flickered on his desk.
He was staring at a map of the Northern territories, but his eyes weren't moving.
I felt his chest expand in a long, shaky breath that It felt like my own ribs were being pushed out from the inside.
Thump. Thump.
It sounded loud.
"She hates me," he whispered. His voice was a low vibration in my throat—no, his throat.
It was rough, broken in a way he had never let anyone see.
He reached for the bottle of bourbon.
I felt the burn as he took a long swallow, the liquid sliding down a throat that felt tight.
She should hate you, he thought. His internal voice was even darker than his spoken one. It’s easier for her to hate a monster than to mourn a man who isn't coming back.
He stood up and walked to the mirror in the corner of the room. I saw his reflection—our reflection. His blue eyes were bloodshot.
The black veins weren't on his skin, but there were dark circles under his eyes that looked like bruises.
He looked exhausted. He looked like a man who was holding up the weight of the sky with nothing but his bare hands.
He reached into his desk and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of emerald clothes.
I gasped, though no sound came out of his mouth.
It was a scrap of fabric from the dress I had worn to the library. He must have picked it up after the guards dragged me away.
He pressed the fabric to his nose. He inhaled deeply.
I felt the wave of agony that hit him—a longing that was so powerful it made my vision swim.
Venessa, he thought.
And I realized that he didn't forget.
Dante hadn't forgotten the me. He hadn't "cleaned" his soul. He had buried it alive.
He was acting cold because every time he looked at me, the wall he had built between himself and the First King started to crumble.
Suddenly, the doctor burst into the study.
"Your Majesty! The Queen... she’s not responding to the neutralizer. Her pulse is beating too fast ."
I felt Dante’s heart jolt.
He didn't say a word. He shoved past the doctor, his boots slamming against the stone floors as he sprinted toward the East Wing.
I saw the world through his eyes—the blur of the torches, the terrified faces of the servants, the doors of my bedroom.
He threw the doors open.
I saw myself.
I looked dead.
My skin was the color of winter mist, and my hair was spread across the pillow like spilled ink. But my wrist was glowing.
Dante stopped by the bed and grabbed my hand.
"Venessa! Wake up. That is an order!"
I am awake, Dante, I thought, screaming it into the void of his mind. I’m right here. Look at me.
Dante froze. He looked down at my face, his eyes wide.
He felt the echo of my voice. He felt the silver heat from my wrist bleeding into his own palm.
"How?" he whispered. "The mate bond is gone."
You lied, I thought. You didn't break it. You just hid it.
Dante shook his head, his grip tightening. "I had to. To keep you safe. To keep him out."
"But he's already in," I said.
My eyes snapped open in the real world.
The connection shattered. I was back in my own body, gasping for air, the taste of bourbon still lingering on my tongue.
I looked up at Dante. He was leaning over me.
"You saw," he whispered.
"I saw everything," I said, my voice hoarse. "I saw how much you love me. And I saw how much you’re lying to yourself."
He backed away from the bed as if I had burned him, looked at his hands, then at me.
The coldness tried to crawl back onto his face, but it was too late. I had seen what he was hiding.
What he was like when I wasn’t there.
"It doesn't change anything," he said, though his voice was shaking. "The shadow is still there. Silas’s people are still watching. If I let this mate bond resurface, I am signing your death warrant."
"Then let me sign it," I said, sitting up. The drug was still making my head swim, but the fire in my blood was stronger. "Stop making choices for me, Dante. I’m not your subject. I’m your wife."
" "You have no idea what is coming. The First King isn't just a legend. He is a monster. And he has been waiting for someone like you for a thousand years."
"Then we fight him together."
Dante laughed, a harsh sound. "Together? Look at us. I can barely touch you without feeling the kingdom starting to end. Every time we get close, the Void thins."
He walked to the window, staring out at the mountains. "I’m sending you away."
The words felt like a bucket of cold water over me. "What?"
"Not to your father," he said, not looking at me. "He’s a coward and he’d sell you back to the highest bidder. I’m sending you to the Southern Isles. It’s a neutral territory. The shadow doesn't reach there. You’ll be safe. You’ll be free."
"I don't want to be free," I said, standing up. My legs were shaky, but I made it to him. I grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around. "I want you."
"You can't have me!" Dante grabbed my shoulders, his fingers bruising my skin. "Because I am the same monster as him, Venessa! Don't you see? I am the Lock. And as long as I am near you, I am failing my pack."
He called the guards.
"The Queen leaves at dawn," he commanded. He wouldn't look at me. "Prepare the carriage. Use the secret mountain pass. No one is to know her destination."
"Dante, please," I begged.
He turned his back on me and walked to the door, his posture stiff, his shoulders tight.
"This is the last time we will speak," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "For your own sake, Venessa... forget me. Find a man who can give you a quiet life. Find someone who doesn't have rot in his veins."
He walked out.
I sat on the floor of my room, crying my heart out.
Everything hurts.
He thought he was saving me. He thought he was being a hero.
But he was constantly hurting me.
Was there even anything left for us?