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“No!” I shouted, shoving the image from my head—baffled at the way he just used his power on me. “I don’t need to imagine it, Nickolai! I’ve lived it.” He stepped toward me, and the familiar pine smell of him filled my nose.

My heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt the unmistakable sour taste of bile at the back of my throat. The realization hit me faster than cold shock from falling through thin ice. Because the smell—the one I had associated with him for so long—has been missing something.

Leather.

The scent of the bloody bathroom and false rain disappeared, replaced by the sweet and earthy tones of flowers and trees.

He replaced it. He replaced the smell of magic. The false rain for leather. I stared up into his eyes, the ones that had brought me pain, my child, and what I had thought was love.

It all tied together as the feeling of pain left and was filled with the peace that I assumed he had felt here.

But, he couldn’t have. If he had, I would’ve noticed it.

My mind raced with all of our interactions.

All of the times I smelled the leather, each of them occurring before I was fae.

And each time my mood started out as one thing before eventually changing.

. . and my body would instantly desire him.

Even after I became fae, my mood would shift dramatically—only I couldn’t smell it anymore.

I’ll make you regret that, Tiny, played over and over again in my head.

He made me regret stabbing him.

He made me. . . love him.

Everything he did. Catering to me. Wooing me. It was all so I would stay. So I would be with him.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as a lump formed in my throat. My voice barely registered to my own ears as I whispered, “Was any of it real?”

Nickolai’s face twisted in confusion—the liar was still playing the part. “What are you talking about?”

“WAS ANY OF IT FUCKING REAL?!” I shouted, my voice echoing throughout the expanse of the room.

My anger was rising, bubbling under the surface of my skin like molten lava.

All I saw was red as the illusion of the man I thought I fell in love with—the man who I thought was my mate—changed before me.

His power was more than something that he could do—it was him, all of it was him .

He was the wolf in sheep's clothing, hiding right under my nose, manipulating me. . . seducing me.

He shook his head, brows furrowing even further to the point that they almost touched.

“Mira—” he implored, reaching out a hand toward me.

I back away from him more, out of his reach.

I could see out of the corner of my eye that people were stopping to watch, and more were coming into the room with each second.

Loughlan, Zeke, and Nessy rushed in, standing off to my right.

Clearly trying to figure it out for themselves.

Grinding my teeth together, I dropped my head.

“You used your powers on me,” I growled as tears started to stream down my face.

Sucking in a shaky breath—my anger shifted into heartbreak.

There was an audible murmur in the room as people took in my accusation.

“H-how could you. . . I trusted you, and you—”

“Mira, please!” he begged, reaching for me again.

“No!”

He froze. I shook my head, my hand coming up to my mouth as a sob finally escaped, the taste of salt on my tongue from the tears. I searched the ground, hoping to find the explanation written somewhere in the wood. But there was nothing.

“None of it was real,” I whispered to myself.

“Tell her,” Zeke’s rough voice spoke out, drawing everyone’s eyes to him. Especially Nickolai’s, who looked murderous. Loughlan and Nessy looked at them both, each of their faces drained of blood.

“Zeke,” Nickolai warned.

“Tell her, or I will,” he threatened, his jaw clenching.

“Tell me what?” I asked, looking between them.

Nickolai sobered up his murderous glare to look at me again, pleading, “Mira. . . it was never supposed to turn out like this.” He paused, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I didn’t know the truth until after we met. . .”

And yet, he used his powers on me in the cottage. He was rambling, trying to find a way to break it to me easily when all I wanted was for him to tell me straight out.

“The morning I left you, I went to say my last goodbye to my father. That’s when he told me about something he did." He ran a hand down his face. "Mira, he hired the men who kidnapped you.”

I felt a coldness sweep through my body.

This couldn’t be happening. Was my whole life a lie, boiling down to that one moment that wrote my future before I could even live it?

Could I even trust what Nickolai was saying, or was this another ploy of manipulation?

I looked at Zeke, asking him silently if this was true. He responded with a nod.

“My father told me I needed to find the girl. That she was never brought to him. As soon as he said that, I remembered what you had said in the cottage, and it was too much of a coincidence. . . But I wasn’t going to follow his orders.

For months, I was tortured with the thought of you—tortured with what to do.

” With every sentence that came from his mouth, I felt my knees growing weaker.

“Nic, how could you?” Loughlan questioned, hurt filling his eyes.

Nickolai ignored him, continuing to reason with me, “I only did what I did because we need you. My kingdom needs you. You are the one who is prophesied.”

The prophecy.

I sucked in a breath and shook my head, “No, I’m not. . . I can’t be.”

“Why do you think someone put a spell on you? To hide who you really are. You’re special, Mira.”

You’re special, Mira, don’t let them have that. The memory of Hugh’s dying words struck me. Hugh had known. But how? And how did Nickolai know? Surely they had to be wrong. They both had to be wrong. I wasn’t anyone special.

“You’re wrong,” I whispered, taking a step back.

I needed to leave—to get out of here.

Nickolai’s gaze shifted to something behind me and I suddenly felt two hands wrapped around my arms. My eyes widened as I looked at him, “What are you doing? Let me go!”

“I’m sorry, Mira.”

I blocked out Loughlan and Nessy as they began shouting and turned to fight with the two guards whose faces I recognized.

Nelson and Finley, two of the three guards with me on the night Lengenfurt was attacked.

Managing to slip one of my arms free, I used the chance to swing up, connecting my fist with Finley's jaw. He didn’t even budge.

“Help me!” I shouted in my mind, hoping to find the woman inside.

But she didn’t answer. I couldn’t even feel her presence, which was usually directly beneath the surface of my mind.

When was the last time I felt her? I asked myself.

Part of me began to wonder if she was ever even there or just a figment of my imagination in this mess of a reality.

My knee eventually found its home between Finley’s legs, which finally caused him to crumple over right as Nelson grabbed both of my arms, lifting me off the ground.

“Let go of me!” I screamed as I continued to fight his grip. My feet kicked out, which had more guards jumping in to grab them. I bucked my body, but it was no use.

I was a prisoner once again.