Page 86 of Gifted Destiny

The others step closer, and Avery crouches to my level. Although the appearance of his eyes hasn’t changed, theaddition of sight is obvious in the way he looks at me. His concern is evident on his face, though. “The bond with him has been muted, but it’s still there,” he reassures me.

I force myself to breathe deeply and realize he’s correct. The library is still here, too, albeit muted in the same way. In fact, it isn’t much different than she’s been all day. My eyes narrow as I glance toward Bren and Garrett.

Sensing my suspicion, Bren shakes his head.“Even so, we cannot let down our guard,”he relays along the mental link.

I shiver as he confirms my suspicions, but Garrett’s head swivels between the two of us.“What do you mean?”His mental voice is as gruff as his vocal cords.

“This is not what the Timekeeper said it would be,”Avery says bluntly. I’m unsurprised that he has noticed the strangeness, too. Garrett is intelligent, but he isn’t as insightful.

The roof we inhabit looks exactly like ours, minus the blue fog of magic, but this isn’tmylibrary or aHidden Libraryin any timeline. The building is just a building, and the magic it contains is weak. It can’t compare to Sage’s ancient power.

Garrett shudders next to me, his skin rippling as if he’s preventing a shift.“We’re being watched,”he grunts.“I knew this Cronos Corporation was shady.”

I was wrong. The shifter is insightful, just in different ways. I hadn’t noticed the sense of being observed until he mentioned it because I’d been focused on the magic.

“I don’t think it’s the Timekeeper’s fault. I don’t believe she has any power; she’s just a worker drone.”Pity for the woman fills me. Despite her humanity or lack thereof, the evidence points to her enslavement.

“We might not have all the facts, but I think the purpose of our visit is still valid. Let’s do it and get out of here. Honestly, I don’t think we have much choice now that we’re here.”Bren’s gaze is contemplative.

I want to stomp my paws in a childlike temper tantrum but settle for thumping my tail against the stone roof.“We don’t need another enemy,”I snarl along the link, secure in the knowledge that my men won’t think I’m angry with them. I don’t know what Destiny is playing at, but this is ridiculous. I only wanted peace, but I think the rest of our lives will be spent looking over our shoulders.

“Bren’s right. Let’s do this and get out of here. We can deal with everything else later.”Garrett takes charge, and I’m happy he does because I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself.

He takes a step forward, but the familiar sound of the stairwell door opening and closing causes all of us to freeze.

“I swear I heard something up here.”

The voice makes me glance wildly at Bren to ensure he’s still at my side. It sounded like him, but the tone was altered – more arrogant and less nuanced. I completely forget our suspicions that everything we see is just a trick of our minds. Are we about to meet a different version of ourselves? Can I tolerate seeing my life for what it could have been? Can my mates? What if they prefer my altered self?

Chapter 39

Zosia

“Who …? What the fuck?” The cocky attitude in a voice I know intimately causes every hair on my body to rise. My powerful muscles tense as I rise to all fours and unfurl my wings. The position makes me look larger and hides my injuries, but the position is instinctual.

“Holy shit!” The curse is quieter this time as the newcomer rounds the dome. Bren’s double gapes, his gaze fixated on his mirror image. He might look exactly like my mate, but he isn’t. Unlike the building, though, he feels distinctly real. It feels like we’ve stepped into an elaborate theater. The actors are real, but all of the props are illusions.

How are there two Brens, or two of anyone, if the information regarding timelines is false? My head begins to ache with the weight of unanswered questions. Avery sets his hand on my back, comforting and supportive. At least he can see. No one should be deprived of this spectacle.

“Dayumn,” the doppelganger drawls. “I knew I was hot, but I look even better than I thought.” The false Bren flicks his bangs out of his eyes in a practiced move. I’ve never seen my mate do this, and I hope he never does. He might still look gorgeous, but everything else about him repels me.

“Brennan? Is Mother correct? Are there intruders?”

The new voice fills me with dread. I want to flee before she rounds the corner, but her words freeze my muscles into place. Is my mother alive here? My tail thumps again as anger starts to churn within me. I never swear, but this is a certified mind-fuck. There might be someone who looks like my mother, but she won’t be her. My mother is dead.

I brace myself while distracting my brain with a naming system. Instead of using their full names to avoid confusion, I decide the false-worlders should be identified by their first name initials and pass the information along to my mates. This new Brennan is B, false Addington is J, and so on ….

B continues to stare, taking in more than himself this time, and the number in his party grows. My doppelganger rounds the corner with a man who bears a likeness to Garrett and two strangers.

Seconds pass as we stare at each other, facing off like an old-fashioned duel. The gargoyles don’t join the confusion, remaining motionless upon their perches. I can’t tell whether they have the ability to move or not.

This Z isn’t me …. She could be a twin, but not me. Our differences aren’t confined to her unbroken legs and upright stature. Her form is thinner and more athletic because she has the ability to exercise, her hair is maintained in a short, neat style, and she’s arrayed in designer clothes and artfully applied cosmetics.

Surprisingly, the most crucial difference isn’t her uninjured legs; it’s her face. I’ve never adopted the haughty sneer she appears to have perfected, and her blue eyes don’t carry a single fleck of gold. I’d wager that she has very little magic and has never suffered a day in her life. She also isn’t a sphinx.

Although B is a superficial reflection of my mate, G is not. The false Garrett can’t disguise his envy as he absorbs myguardian’s ripped physique. Their heights are similar, but G doesn’t have the muscles my mate has cultivated after years of discipline and routine.

Neither of the new Addington brothers feels like a potential mate. I wouldn’t have chosen either one if they’d approached me, and I’m certain the feeling is mutual. I don’t share a history of loss, pain, or trauma with these bright-eyed, cocky men. They aren’t my mates.

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