CHAPTER 125: HE WILL GET HER

"Tell me. Who is your master?"

Rion’s voice was low, dangerous, the kind of tone that made the air itself vibrate.

His shadows slithered tighter around the woman’s throat, twisting into clawed fingers that dug into her skin.

She gagged violently, her body flailing as her nails scraped at the black wisps choking her, but he didn’t falter. His face was cold, carved in stone, crimson eyes glinting like they were forged to burn through lies.

I hated watching it. Her face was blotched red, her eyes bulging from the pressure. The sound of her strangled gasps made my skin crawl. But pity didn’t come, not when I thought of the man lying outside in a pool of his own blood. Her husband, or at least the man she called her husband. An innocent life wasted, used as nothing more than bait in a cruel game.

She must have known. She had to know. That we came here for the harp, the moment we arrived in the Sixth district. And so she staged her little act, sobbing, pleading, pointing us in the wrong direction.

But what I didn’t expect... was her smile.

Through the gagging and thrashing, her lips stretched slowly, curving into a small, eerie grin. It didn’t belong on a dying woman’s face. It was chilling, unnatural, and it sent a sharp current down my spine.

Her eyes locked on me.

Not on Rion. Not on the shadows strangling the breath from her.

On me.

"He..." her voice rasped, broken and strained as blood welled at the corners of her mouth. "...will... get... her."

Her gaze bored into me, almost gleeful.

Before I could even process the words, before Rion could demand more, something inside her body snapped.

A crack, sharp and final, split the air. Blood gushed from her mouth in a sudden gush, splattering down her chin and onto the floor. Her body convulsed once, then went slack.

Her eyes went empty. Lifeless.

The shadows released her instantly, and she fell in a heap, her skull knocking against the wooden floor with a hollow thud.

"Fuck."

The curse tore out of Rion. His crimson gaze narrowed as he stared at the corpse, shadows shifting uneasily at his feet.

But I knew that he hadn’t killed her.

She’d ended herself—or worse, someone else had ended her through her own body, pulling the strings from afar like she was nothing but a puppet. Whoever her master was, they hadn’t even allowed her the mercy of betraying them.

***

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

The soft blankets of the Alpha’s castle wrapped around me, the faint warmth of the lantern stones flickering on the walls, but none of it brought comfort. I lay on my back, staring above, my mind refusing to rest.

No matter how many times I closed my eyes, the image returned.

Her body jerking in the air, strangled by shadows. That twisted smile. Her lips moving around those words like a curse. The sharp, snapping sound of her end.

Blood spilling from her mouth.

And her eyes, those eyes... wide, unblinking, locked on me until the very last second.

"He will get her."

I whispered the words aloud, my voice barely carrying in the stillness of my chamber. My chest tightened as if saying them made them heavier.

Her.

Me.

That smile... she hadn’t been looking at Rion when she said it. She’d been looking at me.

Was it me she was talking about?

My fingers clutched at the blanket over my chest as if it could anchor me.

And who was he?

I didn’t have the chance to ask Rion what he thought. The moment the woman hit the ground, he’d wasted no time. Shadows had surged, wrapping around us like a cloak, and in the next breath we were standing in the Central District again. And I hadn’t seen him since.

***

The next morning, I went to the infirmary before breakfast.

Jeron was sitting up on his bed, his posture still careful but stronger than before. His bruises were still there, faint smudges of purple and green along his jaw and arms, but the angry wounds I’d once seen had closed.

The pale look of death clinging to him had lifted. He looked... almost like himself again, vibrant, as though the life that had been slipping away days ago had finally returned.

When he caught sight of me, his lips curved into that gentle smile of his.

"I heard from Raye that it was you and the Alpha who found me first," he said warmly. His voice was still soft, scratchy at the edges, but steady enough to make my chest loosen. "Thank you."

Raye had already explained the harp’s disappearance to him, her words carefully chosen. She’d told him it was an ancient relic, more than just an instrument, and that it was safer kept in the Alpha’s hands now. But she’d left out the part that it was one of the seven keys to open the wards of the Undersea Tower.

A truth too dangerous to hand to anyone else.

Still, she’d promised him they would find him another harp, one crafted by the best artisans they could find, one worthy of him. Jeron had accepted it without complaint, though I could see the shadow of loss flickering in his eyes.

"The last night of the Moon Festival is tonight," he said, his tone light, though I caught the faint excitement in it. "The final event will take place. Will you attend?"

I blinked, realizing with a start how quickly the days had passed. The festival. I had helped Raye here and there with little preparations, but I’d been too consumed with training to really absorb the details.

The truth was, I’d forgotten what the final night even entailed.

I tilted my head, curiosity tugging my brows together. "Can you remind me what the final event is?"

Jeron chuckled softly, a low sound that filled the room.

"The Mate Hunting."

"Mate hunting?" I repeated, the words strange on my tongue. I had a vague idea. "What is that supposed to be?"

He leaned back a little.

"It is where the unmated men and women of the district can join. The men submit their names beforehand, and at the beginning of the event, they are all presented. Once the participants are known, any unmarried lady who wishes to take part can step into the square. By doing so, they are permitting themselves to be chosen by one of the men after the dance."

My lips parted, the concept settling in slowly.

Jeron went on, his voice calm, matter-of-fact, but I saw the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes at my expression.

"Of course, if more than one man wishes to claim the same woman, the men must fight for her. A duel. Only the victor earns the right."

A shiver ran down my spine, though I wasn’t sure if it was discomfort or fascination.

"And when the choice is made," Jeron finished, "the Alpha himself officiates the ceremony—the Marking."