Chapter 25
The forest is too quiet.
Towering trees stretch toward the night sky, their branches weaving together like skeletal fingers, blocking out most of the moonlight. But I don’t need the moon to see. My heightened senses pick up every shift in the shadows, every rustle of leaves beneath our steps, every distant heartbeat of unseen creatures lurking nearby.
Jack’s sister moves effortlessly through the darkness, as if she belongs to it. I trail behind her, my senses sharp, my guard up. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone–except, for some reason, Fury.
She may have freed me from that cell, but that doesn’t mean I owe her anything. For all I know, she could be leading me straight to my death.
I steal another glance at her, noting once again the striking resemblance to Jack. The same silver eyes. The same confident stride, as if she owns the very ground she walks on.
“So,” I say casually, though I’m not joking, “you’re not secretly kidnapping me, are you? Or, I don’t know, leading me somewhere to have me killed?”
She laughs–a real, genuine laugh that echoes through the trees.
“If I wanted to kill you,” she replies, turning to face me, “you wouldn’t have even seen my face.”
Iarch a brow.
She smirks. “I wouldn’t come myself. Too risky. My cover would be blown when my brother starts investigating.” Then, her expression softens, just a fraction. “Besides, why would I want to kill my brother’s mate? I can’t watch him be in pain a second time.”
I stiffen.
The words a second time claw at something inside me.
I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Jack’s first mate.
The question burns on my tongue, demanding to be spoken. But I bite down on my lip–hard–until I taste blood, forcing it back. I refuse to ask. Refuse to show any interest in his past. It shouldn’t matter. I don’t care.
I force my legs to keep moving.We walk in silence until she stops abruptly.
I blink up at the largest tree I’ve ever seen. It towers over everything, its thick roots twisting into the earth like ancient serpents. The trunk is massive- wide enough to fit an entire house–its bark gnarled and knotted with time.
Then–she murmurs something under her breath.
A door materializes within the bark, seamlessly forming before swinging open.
I stare.
She doesn’t miss my reaction. “I’m not a witch,” she says before I can even ask. “But that doesn’t mean only witches cast spells.”
That’s not exactly comforting.
Still, I follow her inside, my breath hitching as I take in the space.
It’s… massive.
A full, cozy home is carved into the heart of the tree, filled with soft lighting, thick carpets, and towering bookshelves. A fireplace crackles in the corner,
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Chapter 25
བའ ་ ་ ན་ ་
filling the air with the scent of wood and aged paper. It doesn’t just look safe–it feels safe.
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Jack’s sister wanders further in, running a hand along an old bookshelf. “Only Jack and I played here as kids,” she says, a small, nostalgic smile tugging at her lips. “We were the youngest, inseparable. But as we grew, he stopped coming. Responsibility. Our father’s death. He had to grow up too fast.” She turns to me, silver eyes steady; and I don’t miss the bitterness in her tone.
She exhales, then shrugs. “Anyway, no one can find us here. No one even knows this place exists. Not even my mate.”
Something about the way she says mate makes my skin prickle. It isn’t soft or affectionate, the way submissive women usually say it–like a prayer, a sacred bond. No, her tone is sharp, laced with resentment. She spits the word out like a curse.
But I keep my thoughts to myself. It’s none of my business.
Leaning against the nearest wall, I watch her closely. She doesn’t sit, just lingers near an old armchair, fingers tracing over the worn leather.
“You must be wondering why I come here,” she muses. “Even now, as an adult.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”
She ignores my response and continues anyway.
“I come here when I want to escape reality.” Her voice lowers, something distant creeping into her tone. “And I know you needed it, too. That cell must’ve been overwhelming. I know how it feels… to be locked away.” She exhales, gaze unfocused. “Even if it’s not physically.”
I don’t respond. I don’t want to feel sympathy for her. But her words dig under my skin, burrowing into places I’d rather ignore.
After a long pause, I finally ask, “Why bring me here? To your most secret place?”
Jasmine snaps out of whatever thoughts she was lost in and smirks.
“Silly,” she says lightly. “It’s so I can get to know you better. I know we’ll be good friends.”
I scoff. “I doubt it. I don’t plan on having friends.”
“Well,” she says, grinning, “let me be your first.”
She steps forward, extending a hand. “My name is Jasmine.”
I eye her hand warily.
Then, after a beat, I shake it.
“Kali.”
Jasmine’s grin widens, “Nice to meet you, Kali.”
She releases my hand and stretches, rolling her shoulders. “Now, feel free. I have tons of food and fruit–help yourself while I take a shower.” She shudders. “Ugh, I hate the smell of silver from that damn cage. My skin feels like it’s peeling, and my eyes are burning.” She groans dramatically. “I don’t know how you managed to stand it without getting weak.”
I roll my eyes. Exaggeration much?
If she only knew I had held silver with my bare hands and didn’t burn.
But I don’t tell her.
Some things are better, left unsaid.
The moment Jasmine disappears, I let out a slow breath and take the chance to admire the place properly. It’s like a hidden sanctuary–a little piece of
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Chapter 25
heaven carved inside a tree–but then my gaze lands on the real treastire.
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The table.
Piled high with fresh berries, peaches, apples, and other fruits I can’t even name. My stomach growls in approval. Without a second thought, I grab a handful of berries and stuff them into my mouth greedily. Then another. And another. Their juices burst against my tongue, sweet and tangy, making me ravenous for more.
Before I know it, I’ve devoured half the table.
And then it hits me. Shit.
A violent wave of nausea rolls through me. I slap a hand over my mouth as my stomach churns in protest, barely making it to the nearest door before! feel like I’m going to be sick.
There’s a flash of defensiveness in her eyes–panic.

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