The Lie
1543 Words
Silas Draven walked like a man who had never been chased.
I limped behind him through the dark streets of Lunaris City. Every step sent fire through my chest. The rejection scar pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"You're slowing down," he said without looking back.
"I was almost dead an hour ago."
"And now you're not. Keep moving."
I stopped. Leaned against a brick wall. The smell of this place was overwhelming. Rotting fish. Wet fur. And underneath it all—that rotten honey smell. Lies. Everywhere.
"How do you live like this?" I asked.
"Like what?"
"Everyone here is lying."
Silas finally turned. His mismatched eyes glowed in the dark.
"That's why I stay. Liars are predictable. Honest people are dangerous."
"I'm honest."
"No, you're not. You're just bad at lying." He walked back to me. "But you will learn."
He pressed something into my hand. A key.
"Second floor. Room 17. Sleep. Tomorrow we begin."
"Begin what?"
"Teaching you to survive."
He walked away before I could ask more.
The room was small. A bed. A sink. A window that looked out at a dark alley.
I sat on the mattress and touched my neck. The scar was hot. Angry.
Kael.
I didn't want to think about him. But the bond didn't care what I wanted.
I closed my eyes.
And I saw him.
Not with my eyes. With something deeper. The broken bond was like a damaged mirror. I couldn't see clearly, but I could see something.
Kael was in his room. Alone. His hands were black with those veins. He was staring at his own rejection mark.
He didn't have one.
That was the rule. Only the rejected carried the scar.
But on his chest—right over his heart—a dark spot was forming.
What did you do to yourself? I whispered in the vision.
He looked up. Right at me.
"Rhea?"
I gasped and opened my eyes.
The vision was gone. But my heart was racing.
He had seen me. Or felt me. Or something.
I didn't sleep after that.
Morning came grey and cold.
Silas was waiting outside my door with two cups of something that smelled like burned coffee.
"Drink," he said.
I took a sip. It was terrible.
"What was that last night? The vision?"
"Ah." He leaned against the wall. "The bond is still there. Damaged, but not dead. You'll see him sometimes. He'll see you."
"Can I stop it?"
"No. But you can use it."
"How?"
He pushed off the wall. "First lesson. Follow me."
He took me to a basement. Concrete floors. A single light bulb.
"Stand there," he said, pointing to the center.
I stood.
He walked around me in a slow circle.
"You can smell lies," he said. "That's your hybrid gift. But right now, it's useless. You don't know how to control it."
"It seems pretty clear to me. Lies smell like rotten honey."
"Then tell me if I'm lying."
He stopped in front of me.
"My name is Silas Draven."
I smelled nothing. "Truth."
"I am three hundred years old."
The rotten honey hit my nose. "Lie."
"Good." He smiled. "I am fifty-three."
"Truth."
"I want to help you because I am kind."
The honey again. Stronger this time.
"Lie," I said. "Why are you really helping me?"
Silas tilted his head. "Because your mother asked me to."
The world stopped.
"You knew my mother?"
"She was my friend. A long time ago. Before you were born. Before she died."
"How did she die?"
"Ask your father."
"He won't tell me."
"Then ask him better." Silas sat on an old crate. "Your mother was a hybrid. Like you. She could smell lies too. That's why they killed her."
"Who killed her?"
"The people who don't want the truth to come out."
I grabbed his arm. "Tell me everything."
"I will. But not today. Today, you learn to fight."
He stood up. Moved faster than I could track. Suddenly his hand was around my throat—not squeezing, just resting there.
"Your first problem," he said, "is that you trust too easily."
"I don't trust anyone."
"You trusted Kael. You trusted your father. You even trusted me, just now, when I said I knew your mother."
"You do know her."
"I do. But you didn't check. You just believed."
I pushed his hand away. "Teach me not to believe, then."
"That's the spirit."
For the next five hours, Silas made me fight.
Not with weapons. With words.
He sat across from me at a small table. He told me stories—some true, some false. I had to smell the lies.
"Your father loved your mother."
Truth. No honey. But something else. Bitterness.
"Your father killed your mother."
My nose burned. The honey was overwhelming.
"Lie," I choked out. "But close. He didn't kill her. He let someone else do it."
Silas's eyes narrowed. "That's not a smell. That's intuition."
"It came with the smell. The lie had... layers."
He sat back. "Interesting. Most lie-smellers only detect falsehood. You're detecting degrees."
"Is that good?"
"It's dangerous. If you can smell partial truths, you can be manipulated by people who believe their own lies."
"Like Kael?"
Silas was quiet for a moment.
"Yes. Like Kael."
At sunset, he let me rest.
I sat on the roof of the building, looking out at Lunaris City. It was ugly. Broken. But something about it felt honest.
Silas sat beside me.
"Why didn't you tell me about my mother last night?" I asked.
"Because you weren't ready to hear it."
"And now I am?"
"You're still not ready. But I told you anyway because you need a reason to stay."
"I wasn't going to leave."
"Yes, you were. I could see it in your eyes. You were planning to run back to the Blackthorn pack and confront Kael."
I didn't deny it.
"He's dying," I said. "I saw the mark on his chest."
"Good."
"It's not good. He's still my mate. The bond won't let me hate him completely."
Silas turned to face me. "Listen to me carefully. The bond is a rope. He cut it. Now it's frayed. If you pull too hard, it will snap and you will both die."
"So what do I do?"
"You stay here. You train. You become strong enough that when the rope finally breaks—or he comes crawling back—you're the one holding the knife."
I touched my scar again. "And my mother?"
"Her killers are still alive. They're powerful. You can't touch them yet."
"Who are they?"
"Alpha Theron. And the Moon Court."
My blood went cold. Theron was Kael's father. The Moon Court was the highest authority in shifter law.
"You're asking me to go to war against the entire system."
"I'm asking you to survive. The war will find you either way."
That night, I dreamed of Kael again.
He was standing in a field of dead grass. The moon was red.
"Rhea," he said. "Come back."
"You rejected me."
"I was wrong."
"You were cruel."
"I know."
He stepped closer. I could see his face clearly now. He looked older. Thinner. The black veins had spread up his neck.
"What's happening to you?" I asked.
"The bond is eating me from the inside. Every day it gets worse."
"Then find someone else. Complete the bond with Seraphine."
"I can't. The bond only recognizes you."
"Should have thought of that before you cut it."
He reached for my hand. I tried to pull away, but I couldn't move.
"Don't," I said.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"You already did."
His fingers brushed mine.
The sensation was electric. Painful. Pleasurable. Everything at once.
"I can still feel you," he whispered. "Every night. Every time you're scared. Every time you're angry. I feel it all."
"Good. You deserve it."
"I know."
He pulled his hand back. The dream started to fade.
"Rhea."
"What?"
"I'm coming for you."
"You won't find me."
"I'll always find you. The bond won't let me lose you again."
I woke up gasping.
My hand was tingling where he had touched me in the dream. The rejection scar was burning.
Silas was standing in my doorway.
"You were screaming," he said.
"I wasn't screaming. I was—"
"You were moaning. Sounded like you were in pain. Or something else."
I looked away.
"The bond," I said. "He's reaching through it."
"Can you block him?"
"I don't know how."
Silas walked to the window. "Then we need to move faster. If he finds you now, he'll drag you back."
"And if he drags me back?"
"Then you become his prisoner. His cure. His mate." Silas turned. "And everything I'm teaching you will be used to keep you in a cage."
I stood up. My legs were shaking.
"Teach me to block him."
"I can't."
"Then teach me to use him."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"The bond goes both ways. If he can see me, I can see him. If he can feel me, I can feel him." I met his eyes. "Teach me to hurt him with it."
A slow smile spread across Silas's face.
"Now you're thinking like a survivor."
- Writer
