CHAPTER 52: PURIFICATION

FIA

"It’s no big deal," I said, surprised by how calm my voice sounded. It was steady, almost detached, even though my pulse was anything but. "I don’t mind staying in your chambers tonight if it’ll bring your mother peace."

His brows lifted, the faintest sign of surprise crossing his otherwise unreadable face.

"But," I added, "I want to go to my suite first and take a shower."

"You can do that in my quarters," he replied without missing a beat. "I’ll have your Omega servant bring a change of clothes."

I tilted my head, studying him. There it was again—that quiet, immovable authority. He had a way of turning simple words into commands. If it wasn’t his way, it wasn’t happening at all. Some things never changed. And this part of him, this need to control everything, was one I’d never learn to stomach.

"What if I refuse?" I asked, watching his jaw tighten.

His eyes narrowed, the faint glow of irritation flickering there. "You should try to be polite when I’m being nice."

"And you should try not to threaten people you need," I shot back.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us stretched thin, almost tangible. The candlelight trembled, casting restless shadows across his face. They softened nothing. If anything, they made him look harder, more distant. Yet underneath it, I could feel it—the strain, the push and pull between restraint and something rawer. It was like standing too close to a storm, feeling the static before the lightning struck.

"Please," he said finally. The word came out low, reluctant, like it cost him something to say it. "See reason."

"I am being reasonable," I murmured. "Enough, at least."

Then I turned and walked away before he could answer. My footsteps echoed against the marble floor, each one sharper than I intended. The air felt thick as I left the dining hall behind.

"I’ll be there," I called over my shoulder, not bothering to look back.

The moment I turned the corner, out of sight, the breath I’d been holding rushed out of me. My hands trembled. I pressed one against my cheek and then, without thinking, slapped it lightly. Once. Twice. A third time. Just enough to sting.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered, my voice shaking now when it hadn’t before.

My skin still burned where his hand had been. I could feel it, the ghost of his touch, the warmth of his palm against my mouth. The rough scrape of his calluses. The way his thumb had rested, almost tenderly, against my cheekbone. My heart was still betraying me, thudding too fast, too loud, like it hadn’t gotten the message that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

I clenched my fists, willing myself to focus, to breathe, to feel something other than this chaotic mess swelling in my chest.

I needed that cold shower.

Desperately.

When I reached my suite, Bo was standing outside the door. She straightened when she saw me.

"How was dinner?" she asked.

"It was fine if you believe that."

She fell into step beside me. "If you have an ally in the Grand Luna, life in Skollrend will be easier."

"Sure," I said, pushing open the door.

We both entered. The room felt like a sanctuary after everything that had happened tonight. Somewhere I could breathe without feeling like someone was watching or analyzing.

"I need a shower," I said.

Bo moved to help me undress, her fingers working at the buttons down my back. I let her. My arms felt too heavy to do it myself. When she pushed the fabric off my shoulders, her hands paused at my arms.

"The welts are nearly gone," she said.

I looked down. She was right. The raised marks from the mold had faded to pale lines against my skin. In another day or two, they’d be completely invisible. Like they never happened.

"Do you still need my phone?" Bo asked.

"Yes."

She pulled it from her pocket and handed it over. I took it and reached for my own phone. I copied my father’s number into Bo’s phone with shaking fingers. Then I hit call.

It rang once. Twice.

Then it picked up.

"Hello?"

My father’s voice came through the speaker. I could hear him eating. The sound of chewing, the scrape of silverware against a plate. Normal sounds. Like nothing had changed. Like his daughter wasn’t trapped in a foreign pack after being thrown to the wolves by his proper wife and legitimate daughter.

My throat closed up.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I’d been blocked. Actually blocked. Even if Isobel or Hazel were the one who did it, it still meant that he did not know because he hadn’t called... Because he’d chosen not to hear from me.

"Father," I said, my voice cracking. "It’s Fia."

The chewing stopped. I heard him choke, cough, struggle to swallow whatever was in his mouth.

"Fia." There was a pause. A long one. "How are you? How have you been?"

My voice broke again. "I’ve been fine."

It was lies. All lies. But what else could I say?

"You didn’t call," I said.

"I wanted to give you space."

Space. The word landed wrong, twisted and sharp.

"Space?" I repeated. "After what happened? You didn’t even want to know what actually happened?"

"Fia, let’s not talk about that."

"Why?"

"You stole your sister’s marriage. You almost put this pack in jeopardy."

Each word felt like a slap. I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles going white.

"But you know me," I said. My voice came out small. Desperate. "Would I do that? Would I ever do that?"

Murmuring in the background. I clocked a woman’s voice. It was low yet insistent. I knew that voice. My stepmother was close.

I scoffed. Of course. Of course she was there, right beside him, feeding him poison while he ate his dinner.

"I thought I knew you, Fia," my father finally said. "But how do I analyze this without seeing what you did?"

"I wore Hazel’s veil to protect our pack, Father. To protect you. No matter how myopic it was." My vision blurred with tears. "Do you believe that?"

Silence stretched taut. But he did speak.

"What matters is it worked out in the end."

The tears spilled over. I couldn’t stop them. They ran hot down my cheeks, dripping off my jaw.

"One day you’ll see them both for what they are," I said. My voice shook with the weight of everything I couldn’t say, everything he refused to hear. "And I hope I still have it in me to forgive you, Father."

I took a breath. It rattled in my chest.

"But you never called because—" Father started but he did not finish. I knew what he was getting at.

"I never called you because I never could—"

I did not get to finish before the line went dead.

I stared at the phone in my hand. Did he hang up on me? Or did Isobel snatch the phone away before it mattered?

But I didn’t care anymore. Why should I?

I wiped at my tears with the back of my hand and gave Bo her phone.

"Thank you," I said.

"Of course."

"I’ll take my bath now."

"I’ll help you run it," Bo offered.

"There’s no need for that." I headed toward the bathroom. "It’ll be a cold shower."

I walked into the bathroom still in my underwear. The air felt cooler here, cleaner. I stripped off the rest of my clothes and turned the shower on. Cold water burst from the pipes and I just stepped under the spray.

The shock of it stole my breath. Ice cold water pounded against my skin, raising goosebumps across my arms and chest. But I didn’t adjust the temperature. I tilted my head back and let it run over my face, my hair, my shoulders.

I imagined washing Silver Creek off myself completely. Every lie Isobel had whispered into my father’s ear. Every cruel word Hazel had said with that perfect smile on her face. Every moment I’d been too naive to see what they really were.

The water ran cold against my closed eyelids. I scrubbed at my skin like I could peel away everything that had happened. Everything I’d lost.

When I finally turned off the water and stepped out, my skin was pink from the cold and my fingers were pruned. But I felt cleaner. Lighter. Like maybe I could actually breathe again.

I dried off and pulled on the simple shift that Bo had left folded on the counter. My hair hung wet and heavy down my back. I didn’t bother drying it properly. I just ran my fingers through it to work out the worst of the tangles.

When I came out, Bo was waiting with a small bag.

"A sentinel came while you were in the shower... this is for your night in the Alpha’s quarters," she said.

I took it. "Thank you."

"Will you be alright?"

The question caught me off guard. Not because it was strange to ask, but because someone actually cared enough to ask it.

"I’ll be fine," I said.

It was another lie. But maybe if I said it enough times, it would become true.

Bo nodded and left. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone in the quiet suite. I looked down at the bag in my hands. Inside was a clean nightgown, a change of clothes for tomorrow, and a few other necessities.

I dropped the bag on the bed and just stared at it for a moment. The quiet in the room felt heavier than it should, like even the air knew I was stalling. My hair was still damp from the shower, water slipping down my neck and soaking into the collar of my towel.

Then a second later, I reached for the bag and pulled out the nightgown.

Now that I felt it, I realized that it wasn’t plain cotton or anything simple like I expected. It was soft, pale pink, with lace along the edges and thin straps that looked like they’d snap if I pulled too hard. The fabric shimmered faintly when I moved it, delicate and light, like something meant for a different kind of night.

I turned it over in my hands. Who had picked this? Bo? Cian? The thought made my stomach twist.

Still, it was better than walking into the Alpha’s quarters in a towel.

And in hindsight, anything to sell a lie to Luna Morrigan I guess.

So I pulled it on.

The satin slid over my skin like water. Cool at first, then warm. It clung just enough to make me self-conscious. The hem barely reached mid-thigh, and the neckline dipped lower than I was comfortable with. I adjusted the straps, tugged the fabric higher, but it didn’t make much difference.

In the mirror, I looked like someone I didn’t know. The soft fabric and lace made me seem smaller, gentler, like I was trying to fit into someone else’s idea of beautiful. My hair, still damp and curling around my shoulders, only added to the illusion. I looked like I belonged in one of those photos people posted with filters and fairy lights, not in the middle of this mess.

I sighed and wrapped the sheer robe around me. It matched the gown, thin and light with satin ties at the waist. It didn’t hide much, but at least it gave me something to hold onto.

The room was quiet again. The only sound was the faint dripping from the bathroom tap and the slow beat of my heart. I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing my hands together to shake off the unease crawling up my spine.

I should have felt calm. Clean. Ready. But instead, my thoughts wouldn’t stop circling back to him. To the way he’d looked at me earlier, the tension in his voice, the way his hand had felt against my face.

I shut my eyes and exhaled slowly. "Goddess, get it together Fia. It’s just one night," I whispered. "That’s all."