Page 31

Isobel was breathing hard, panic and despair gripping and clenching around her heart. She wanted to demand answers, but it seemed more important to just hold her, to let those horrible, soundless sobs wrack and shudder through Sophia until she was slumping, too weak to stand.

Isobel helped her back into the residence and into the kitchen, lowering her to one of the chairs.

She spun to the bench and flicked on the kettle, because that was what they always did.

They huddled in the kitchen and drank—tea for Sophia, coffee for Isobel—and they talked about anything and everything. They never seemed to run out of topics.

Isobel angrily swiped at the tears flowing down her cheeks, needing a moment to gather herself with her back turned to her friend before she lowered into the seat beside her, pulling her hand into her lap.

“What happened?” she asked, her words lined in fear.

Fear that Sophia wouldn’t be able to answer.

Sophia could see it. Her beautiful, bruised face crumpled, and she shook her head.

She opened her mouth and tried to answer, but only a horrible, soundless sort of rasp escaped her throat.

Isobel tried to breathe deeply, to contain her reaction, to be strong for her friend, but it was too much.

She stood, the rage so strong inside her that her entire body vibrated. She felt like she was going to burst.

“Can we … fix it?” she asked, falling back to her seat as the thin hope darted into her mind.

Sophia shook her head.

Isobel felt something shatter inside her. She dragged her seat beside Sophia’s, gathered her gently, and cried, releasing a torrent of grief that wasn’t at all soundless until the rage inside her took over, and then she was pushing to her feet again and pacing, pacing, pacing.

“Who?” she demanded, knowing Sophia couldn’t answer her. “Where? What the fuck did they do?”

At each question, Sophia only stared at her, and Isobel’s rage grew, snowballing until it threatened to overtake her completely. “Did they take you …” She pointed below them, to the Stone Dahlia.

Sophia shrugged, putting a hand over her eyes.

“They blindfolded you?”

A nod.

“But they took you somewhere?”

Another nod.

“They walked or drove?”

A nod at the second option.

“That means nothing,” Isobel growled. “When they took Kilian, they drove him around first to confuse him, but they still took him to the Stone Dahlia. Were you blindfolded the whole time?”

Sophia shook her head.

“Did they ask you any questions?”

Another shake.

“Nothing?” Isobel spluttered in disbelief.

Sophia darted her eyes to the door, pain cracking over her features. Isobel glanced over her shoulder. There was nobody there. And then Bellamy’s words swam back to her.

“This has nothing to do with you,” she muttered. “ This is because of him. He wasn’t cooperating with them.”

Sophia gave a short, jerky nod.

“Did you see who did this to you?” Isobel forced herself to sit again, swiping up Sophia’s hands because it was starting to look like all the head movements were hurting her. “Just squeeze once for yes and twice for no.”

One squeeze. Yes .

Isobel gently cracked the walls on her power, feeling the vast wash of Sophia’s agony. She drew on it slowly, achingly slowly, and tried to distract Sophia with questions as she worked. “Is Luis safe, and Maya?”

One squeeze. Yes .

“Okay. And the people who did this … more than one?”

Squeeze. Yes .

“Was one of them a tall woman with blue eyes and long, blond hair?”

Squeeze. Sophia hesitated and then squeezed again.

“You’re not sure?”

Sophia shrugged.

“That’s okay. It’s okay.” Isobel gentled her voice, wishing she could fill all the little holes she was making in Sophia’s despair with comfort instead of emptiness. “Was it a tall woman? Slender, fit? Really put together?”

Squeeze. Another yes .

Isobel chewed on her lip. “It could be Yulia Novikov in a disguise of some kind. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her in the back of some of my performances in a wig.” She glanced at Sophia’s throat. “I saw you on Friday. When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me, you could have texted …”

Sophia gave her a frustrated, tear-filled glare, and Isobel sucked in another round of deep breaths, trying to wrangle herself under control. She was seconds from bursting into tears again.

“I’m sorry.” She stabilised her voice deliberately, keeping it soft and comforting, just like Kilian had done for her.

She reached out, smoothing her hand over Sophia’s bruised cheek, her brow collapsing at the patchy vision of her bare head.

She lifted her hand, gentling it against the uneven shave, and Sophia released another soundless sob, closing her eyes.

“Only you could pull this off,” Isobel forced the words out, forced them to sound warm instead of wooden. “You should have done it sooner.”

Sophia made a choking motion, her eyes torn between amusement and despair.

“We just need to clean it up a little bit,” Isobel reassured her. “Then everyone will think it was deliberate.”

Keep it together. Keep it the fuck together.

Seeing what they had done to Sophia’s hair had her own trauma rushing back in, but she fought it viciously back, keeping her touch light and gentle as she took up Sophia’s hands again .

“Do I need to kick Bellamy’s ass?”

Squeeze.

“Okay, I’ll do it as soon as I leave here.”

There was that mix of sadness and amusement again, and Isobel’s heart ached so much she thought she might be sick. Or maybe it was the amount of heavy agony she was siphoning away.

“You know he cares for you.” She hesitated before adding, “a lot …”

This time, the squeeze was a punishment. Sophia didn’t want to hear it.

“He’s trying to keep you safe by cutting you out of his life?—”

Sophia tore her hands from Isobel’s, and Isobel nodded. “Okay, no, you’re right. Fuck him. I’ll kick his ass.”

She held out her hands hopefully, and Sophia rolled her eyes, slipping her fingers back into Isobel’s waiting grip just as the door to the chapel opened and Maya pushed into the room, Luis in tow.

Both of them appeared haggard and pale, Maya’s outrage and misery pouring straight into Isobel, since her walls were already cracked and Maya was an Alpha.

Isobel shifted slightly, sucking in a shaky breath as she worked to adjust the flow, only allowing a small amount from all three of their bodies.

“Hi, Illy,” Luis said, eyes watering as he clung to Maya’s hand .

“Hi, sweetie.” She released one of Sophia’s hands, and Luis quickly threw himself into her hug, clinging to her as wetness splashed against her shoulder.

“She can’t talk anymore,” he whispered into her shirt.

Isobel didn’t answer, stroking his hair as she focussed on Maya.

The Guardian set several bags on the table, her throat working as she fought back her own tears.

“I brought medicine from the hospital. They wouldn’t treat her,” she added, meeting Isobel’s eyes.

“She’s not a student, so they said …” She shook her head.

“They made her drink bleach.” Maya’s mouth pinched.

“The people who took her. They dropped her back here in the middle of the night last night. She was able to tell me what they did to her before she started vomiting—I believe that’s what actually damaged her voice box.

” Maya recalled the events almost robotically, like she simply needed another adult to understand what had happened.

“I used my Alpha voice to stop the vomiting. It was torture for her. I made her drink water to dilute the bleach, but her airways started closing up. I ordered her to breathe. I forced her to swallow steroids so that her throat didn’t close up.

” She fit a device around Sophia’s mouth.

It had a container for liquid and a clear tube connecting the container to the plastic mouthpiece.

Maya pressed a button, and it began to hum softly, a clear mist curling into the container .

There was something unspoken in Maya’s methodical retelling. Something that cracked into the flow of emotion Isobel was siphoning from all three of them.

Guilt .

I tortured my own daughter .

“You saved her life,” Isobel said gently.

Maya didn’t take her eyes off her daughter’s face, but Sophia looked at her over the plastic mouthpiece, breathing a little easier with the device strapped to her face. She seemed to be trying to silently implore her mother to listen to Isobel, to agree with those words.

Luis peeled himself off Isobel and returned to his mother, crawling up into her lap as she sank into a chair. They clung to each other, silence falling over the kitchen, the only sound coming from Sophia’s breathing device.

Isobel suddenly sat up straighter. She trailed her fingers over the bumps of her piercing, counting down to Kalen’s stone, but then she paused. Sophia watched her hand, waiting, brief hope flaring to life in her eyes.

“I can’t,” Isobel croaked. “What if I take your body back to this morning, and you’re stuck going through all of that again?”

She didn’t have any secrets from Sophia, but she was a little uncomfortable speaking so openly about Kalen’s powers in front of Maya and Luis. She pulled out her phone, sending a quick message to Kalen. “Maybe he can,” she said, hardly daring to hope .

Only ten minutes later, Kalen knocked at the door, and Isobel jumped up, already feeling that wave of his power as it preceded him into the room.

He would have been suddenly hit by the force of her emotion on his way there.

His amber eyes raked her body quickly, his scent thick with concern, the wash of burning sugar falling over her. “What happened?”

Isobel stepped to the side, letting him see Sophia. “The officials tortured her because Bellamy wasn’t playing ball with whatever they wanted him to do in the Stone Dahlia. They made her drink bleach—Maya said it damaged her vocal cords when she started vomiting it back up.”

Kalen didn’t even pause to digest the information. He strode over to the table, flicking his eyes between Sophia and Maya, his tone low with sorrow. “When exactly did this happen?”

She wasn’t sure if it was empathy for them or if he couldn’t help it. He was being assaulted with all of the horrible darkness now swimming in Isobel’s chest, alongside her own grief.

“Illy, stop,” he said softly before Maya could answer him.

Both Rosales women glanced at her, confused. Isobel pretended not to hear Kalen.

“Isobel.” He was still using that soft tone, but this time, she could hear his wavering control—pushed to the limit ever since Friday night.

He was just as volatile today as the rest of the Alphas, and he wasn’t going to stand around and allow her to hurt herself.

She sucked in a shaky breath and closed off her walls, fighting a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea.

“Thank you,” he whispered before fixing his attention to Maya. “When exactly did this happen?” he asked again. “How many hours ago?”

“They took her last night, around 8:00 p.m.”

Kalen winced, his fingers scraping through the stubble decorating his strong jaw. “That’s more than twelve hours. I’m not confident I can take her body back that far, and if I fail, she’ll have to suffer it all again.”

Sophia’s head dropped down. Maya’s lips trembled. Luis ran out of the room.

Isobel twitched, breathing raggedly and trying to resist the urge to crack herself wide and swallow it all.

“I’m sorry,” Kalen said gently. “I can’t safely help her.”