CHAPTER 5
1092 Words
The Shattering
Sloane's POV
It hit me about half a mile from the safe house.
Not slowly.
Not like an illness creeping in.
One moment the warmth inside my chest was still there, the same quiet warmth that had lived inside me for twelve years.
The next moment it was gone.
Just… gone.
Like someone had pinched out a candle flame.
The space it left behind felt empty and cold, like a hollow in my chest where something important used to live.
The cold rushed in so suddenly that a sound escaped my throat before I could stop it.
Darian caught my arm immediately.
“Sloane—”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
My legs felt strange. Not painful. Just wrong somehow. Like my body had forgotten how to use them properly.
But I kept walking.
Stopping felt like giving up.
“How far from here to the main court boundary?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“About a mile,” Darian said quietly.
He was watching me carefully.
“You’re feeling it.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You made a sound.”
“It was a small sound.”
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he slowed his pace to match mine. My steps had gotten slower without me realizing it.
He didn’t comment on that either.
And strangely, I was grateful.
The safe house finally appeared ahead of us.
Just a small building hidden among the scrubland. Nothing impressive. But to me it looked like the safest place in the world.
I made it to the door.
My fingers reached the lock.
And then my legs stopped cooperating.
They simply gave out.
I dropped to my knees on the front step.
The door swung open when my shoulder hit it and I fell forward into the room.
Inside.
That was what mattered.
“SLOANE!”
Finn’s voice filled the room.
He crossed the space in seconds and dropped beside me. His hands grabbed my face, lifting my head so he could look at me properly.
“You’re bleeding,” he said sharply. “Both wrists—”
“Shackles,” I muttered. “I broke them. It’s not deep.”
He helped pull me up to my feet.
My legs barely held.
“I broke the contract,” I added.
Finn froze.
His expression changed several times in the space of a second.
“Tell me,” he said slowly, “that you didn’t break a life bond.”
“Define life bond.”
“Sloane.”
“I broke a blood contract,” I said. “I ran. Crossed the border.”
My chest ached again. Not sharp pain. Just a constant dull pressure.
Like something important had been taken out of me.
“He said three days,” I added quietly. “Before the fever comes back.”
Finn covered his face with both hands.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “I have three days. That’s time. We just need to figure out—”
“Who was the contract with?”
He dropped his hands.
His eyes were sharp now, already thinking ahead.
“Who?”
“Kael Frost.”
The room went silent.
A very specific kind of silence.
The kind that meant Finn knew something I didn’t.
I watched his face carefully as the realization spread across it.
“Finn,” I said slowly.
My voice stayed calm.
“How did you find out about the heartstone?”
“A source—”
“What source?”
“An intelligence contact who—”
“Finn.”
I took a step toward him.
My legs held.
“What source.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
A long, quiet moment where a person decides whether to lie or tell the truth.
Finally he sighed.
“Your bloodline,” he said.
I blinked.
“I found records in the Summer Court archives two years ago. Genealogy documents.”
He moved to the table and placed his hands on it.
“Your family line connects to one of the original Fae bloodlines. The bridge-blood lineage.”
My mind struggled to catch up.
“I knew what you were,” he continued quietly.
“Before I knew about the contract.”
The words landed slowly.
“I’ve known for two years.”
The room tilted slightly.
“Two years.”
“Yes.”
“And the partnership,” I said.
My voice grew quieter.
“The jobs. The last three years.”
I looked straight at him.
“You built it.”
He didn’t respond.
“You found me specifically,” I said. “And you built all of it.”
“Sloane—”
“Tell me why.”
My voice didn’t rise.
It stayed calm.
“Not the useful reason. The real reason.”
Finn closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he told me.
About Mira.
His sister.
How the Winter Court had taken her when she was nineteen.
How they put her into a breeding program for magical bloodlines.
Three years trapped inside it.
Three years before she died.
He told me about the baby she carried that never survived either.
Because her blood wasn’t pure enough.
Because they used the wrong magic.
Because no one had ever asked her if she wanted any of it.
His voice stayed steady while he spoke.
Which somehow made it worse.
“She was twenty-three,” he said quietly when he finished.
“She should still be alive.”
I stood there silently for a moment.
“You used me,” I said.
“I was going to,” he admitted.
“At the beginning.”
He looked away.
“And then somewhere along the way it got… complicated.”
He shook his head slightly.
“That doesn’t change what I did.”
“No,” I said quietly.
“It doesn’t.”
Three knocks sounded on the door.
Slow.
Precise.
Unhurried.
Like someone who was completely confident the door would open.
Finn’s hand moved instantly toward the knife at his belt.
I shook my head.
A woman’s voice spoke from the other side of the door.
Clear.
Calm.
“Open this door.”
She paused briefly.
“I know you’re inside.”
Finn and I exchanged a glance.
Then the woman continued.
“I helped arrange the contract your mother signed.”
My heart skipped.
“And I owe you a debt.”
Her voice hardened slightly.
“And we are running out of time.”
- Writer
