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Underworld 75

    <b>Chapter </b><b>75 </b>


    We leave Zion’s room in silence. No one speaks. Not until we’ve crossed the threshold of the pack house and are deep enough in the woods that even the shadows feel safer than Tris‘ halls.


    “Tell me we’re not actually considering believing them,” Noah finally says<b>, </b>voice low, furious.


    “They had my nket,” I murmur, fingers curling at my sides. “Zion kept it.”


    “That doesn’t mean<b>…</b><b>” </b><b>Xavier </b>starts, but stops when I nce at him.


    “I don’t want to believe him either. I don’t want any of this to be real<b>, </b>but


    it <b>is</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>


    Levi ces a steady hand on my back. “We need more. A nket<b>, </b>a vision, or whatever… It’s not enough to know what’s happening. We need proof. We need that witch.”


    “Salira,” I whisper.


    “Where would Marcus keep her?” Haiden asks. <b>“</b><b>If </b>she’s as dangerous <b>as </b>they said, she wouldn’t be allowed to roam free.”


    “Somewhere deep,” Xavier answers, jaw tight. “Protected. Likely enchanted.”


    “He used her to lock my memories away<b>,</b>” I say. “There’s a chance<b>… </b>she still has a tether to my mind.” I nce at Noah. “Is that possible?<b>” </b>


    He frowns, thinking. “There could be residue. Traces.” He meets my eyes. “But if we try to extract it, it’s going to hurt.”


    “I can handle pain<b>.</b><b>” </b>


    “You don’t understand,” Noah <b>says</b>. “We’ll have to pull apart the boundary between what you remember and what is locked. You’ll be reliving every sensation. Every fear.<b>” </b>


    “Do it.<b>” </b>


    Xavier growls low under his breath. “Envy…<b>” </b>


    “I need answers. No more pieces. No more half–visions or twisted memories. I need to see what she took from me.”


    Levi nods slowly. “Not tonight, you’ve been through enough. First, we eat and then we rest properly.”


    Levi’s words hang in the <b>air</b><b>, </b>heavy and final.


    <b>Xavier </b>speaks his voice gravel. “Let’s run home, Maddox wants out.”


    The others nod. One by one, their bodies blur, me, shadow, and lightning shing through bone and <b>fur</b>. Hellhounds emerging. Lexhale slowly, grounding myself. My skin splits, but it doesn’t hurt. It <b>sings</b>. Fur spreads across my limbs like smoke given form<b>. </b>My ws dig into the earth and Layah breathes with me.


    “<i>We </i>needed <i>out </i><i>of </i>there<b>, </b>she murmurs, “<i>That </i><i>ce </i><i>was </i><b><i>poison</i></b>.”


    “It still is“, I reply, ears flicking back as the others fall into formation beside me, “And we’ll <i>have </i>to go <i>back</i>.”


    <i>“</i><i>I </i><i>know</i>.” She huffs. We run. The wind rushes <b>past</b><b>, </b>carrying <b>the </b>scents of moss and ash<b>, </b>of old blood and distant me. The forest peels away around <b>us</b>, parting like it knows not to stand in our way. The trees groan under the <b>weight </b>of our presence but inside me, the storm churns. <i>He </i>said <i>I </i>was a <i>weapon</i>, I think.


    <i>“</i>Because <i>that’s </i>all <i>he </i>could see, Layal answers. “They <i>always </i><i>fear </i>what they don’t understand. So they name it. Cage it. Twist it until it fits their vision of control<b>.</b>”


    “And <i>I </i>let them.”


    <b>“</b>You were a child<b><i>“</i></b><b><i>, </i></b>she growls. “Now you <i>are </i>not.”


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    1:02 PM P <b>P </b>


    “Do you <i>think </i><i>he’s </i><i>right</i><i>?</i><b><i>” </i></b>I ask.


    Layah is quiet for a moment.


    “I <i>think </i><i>power </i><i>like </i><i>ours </i><i>was </i><i>never </i>meant to <i>be </i>tamed <i>and </i><i>we </i>will do great things.<b>” </b>


    <i>“</i><i>Are </i><i>we </i><i>dangerous</i><i>? </i>A <i>risk</i><i>?</i><i>” </i>


    <i>“</i><i>Everything </i>is. <i>But </i><i>you </i><i>don’t </i><i>be </i><i>dangerous </i><i>when </i>you <i>mark </i>them, <i>Evelina</i>. <i>You </i><i>already </i><i>are</i>. <i>You </i><i>just </i>haven’t <i>stopped </i><i>apologizing </i><i>for </i>it.


    That hits harder than I expected. I don’t answer. The moon rises higher above the treeline, painting the canopy in crimson light. The others are close, Xavier ahead, always watching; Levi steady to my left; Haiden a blur of fire and grace behind me; Noah running at my side, silent but present.


    “<i>You </i><i>think </i><i>they’ll </i><i>still </i>want me <i>when </i>shit <i>hits the </i><i>fan</i>?” I ask quietly.


    Layah’s voice is a low, rumblingugh. <i>“</i><i>They </i><i>already </i><i>know </i><i>enough</i><i>. </i><i>And </i><i>they’re </i>still <i>here</i>. <i>Running </i><i>beside </i><i>you</i><i>. </i><i>Ready </i>to <i>fight </i>gods <i>for </i><i>you</i><i>.</i>”


    I look ahead. The trees are thinning. Beyond them, the outer ridge of the Red Moon Pack glows like the breath of a hearth fire, warm<b>, </b>steady, waiting. Home.


    “I <i>hope </i>so,” I whisper.


    We break the tree line and cross the warding stones<b>, </b>paws hitting soft earth as the packhouse looms in the distance.


    The run slows. mes retreat. <b>Fur </b>recedes. One by one, we shift back<b>, </b>bare feet on dewy grass, lungs heaving, hearts pounding with something more than exhaustion.


    The Red Moon packhouse greets us with warmth and silence<b>. </b>No questions. No judgment. Inside, the lights are low. Food waits on the long table, stew still warm, bread freshly torn, fruit and salt and honeyed tea. The quiet kind of offering that says we see <i>you </i>without demanding anything in


    return.


    Haiden presses a cup into my hands and nudges me toward the armchair near the fire. “Sit. Before you fall over.<b>” </b>


    <b>I </b>sit. The fire crackles<b>. </b>My legs feel like they’ve been hollowed out and filled with ash. The others move around me in quiet choreography, Xavier near the door, pacing like he doesn’t trustfort. Noah, with his head leaned back, eyes closed<b>, </b>processing the shit show<b>. </b>Haiden returns with more food. Levi disappears into the kitchen for <b>tea</b><b>, </b>probably adding something calming to it and me? I just breathe.


    <b><i>“</i></b><i>Layah</i><i>?</i><b>” </b>I whisper inside.


    <b><i>“</i></b><i>Still </i><i>here</i><i>“</i>, she murmurs<b>. </b>


    <i>“</i><i>I </i><b><i>feel </i></b><i>like </i>I’m <i>cracking</i>.”


    <i>“</i><i>Good</i><b>. </b>Let it <i>crack</i><i>. </i><i>You’re </i>not <b><i>made </i></b><i>of </i><i>ss</i><b><i>. </i></b><i>You’re </i><i>made </i><i>of </i><i>fire </i><i>and </i>stone and fury. <i>Let </i>it <i>break </i>where it needs to. <i>We’ll </i><i>still </i>be <i>here</i>.”


    I close my <b>eyes</b>. The cup warms my palms. The fire warms my soul,


    Levi returns and presses a different mug into my hands. “Drink all of it.”


    I don’t ask what’s in it. I trust him. I <b>sip </b>slowly. Bitter<b>, </b>earthy herbs hum faintly at the back of my tongue. After <b>a </b>while, the silence shifts. Not heavier. Not lighter. Just more alive.


    “I hate this,” Noah says finally<b>, </b>eyes still closed.


    We all Took at him<b>. </b>


    hate that this feels normal now. Breaking into your own memories like we’re criminals. I hate that she <b>has </b><b>to </b>prove what was done to her.”


    He doesn’t look at me when he <b>says </b>it, but I know <b>he </b>means me.


    “I hate it too,” I <b>say </b>quietly.


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