Page 45 of Fated to Monsters

“And what of your brother? You said you uncovered the truth.” My heart swells at seeing the two of them find comfort in the darkness together.

Maybe powerful love can come not just in fated mates.

"I discovered that the hunters, the true hunters, were somehow harvesting demonic power after their kills. And they were ordered to return to Rockbridge for some kind of ritual to extract that power. Most hunters only made it through one or two of these rituals before their life force gave out, my brother included. He was the last to die before they put a stop to it. They expanded the prison and changed the orders. Instead of being told to kill the demons on sight, they were informed they must bring them in alive. I think they were biding time until they could figure out how to start extracting again without losing hunters in the process. They couldn’t afford for their numbers to keep dwindling so they had to do something.”

How is it even possible for a hunter to harvest demonic power from a kill? Does Wren know anything about this? What would they do with that power? Both the hunterandthe organization calling the shots? I thought eliminating us was their sole mission, but apparently, it was something more complex. Was she participating in said rituals and stealing the power of those she killed? She would have been doing the same thing that had been done to her bloodline for centuries. Stealing and suppressing someone else for unjust reasons. Would there even be ajustreason at all? Surely, she wouldn’t do somethingthatunbelievably wrong.

But when my thoughts bring me back to that room, that day I thought everything was going to end, isn’t that what Parla was trying to get Wren to do to me? She wanted Wren to kill me and said if she did, she would allow Wren to live. Is it possible that Wren, and whatever magic she holds, can do the ritual without meeting the same fate the other hunters did?

Because Wren isn’t a hunter at all, she’s a witch—one descended from the Angels themselves.

I want to question more, to learn what else Everest knows of this heinous act, only the second my mind slows down long enough to ask, the door opens and Wren walks in.

Her smile distracts me, something bright and beaming about her that wasn’t there a few hours ago. It tugs at my heart, and without meaning to, I gravitate toward her, my soul being called to hers.

“Oh, what do you have there?” Jade hops off the counter and goes toward Wren.

"The most incredible muffins in the entire world." Wren sets a box on the counter and flips the lid open. She pulls one out and gives it to Jade. "You have to try, seriously." She raises a brow but gives me no choice to say no. She shoves one toward me, too, and then takes another.

I kiss her cheek and bask in how her sheer presence alone can soothe me.

“Where’s Bo?” she asks with a muffin still in her grasp. “He has to eat one of these.”

I crane my thumb in the direction he stormed off not too long ago. “That way somewhere.”

Sydney enters through the same door Wren had come from. “I have another box of them, so feel free to have as many as you want.”

My attention flits to him, and in that split second, Wren moves out of the room in her pursuit of Bo. Her absence leaves a chill in her wake and grants the space for my concerning questions to rise back to the surface.

13

Wren

Taking the stairs two at a time, I rush up to the second floor of Sydney’s home to locate Bo.

Certainty that I’m on the right path fills me with each step closer to him. Is it the mark on my neck that allows me to sense him? Maybe the hunter nature in me kicking in? Or perhaps it’s something else entirely that makes me sure he’s nearby.

I bolt through the door to our shared bedroom, and my heart drops when I don’t see him.

Was I wrong in thinking what he and I share is anything more than nothing?

“What’s the rush, Birdie? House on fire again?” His gruff voice calms my aching soul.

“You,” I say while spinning on my heel. “Have to try this.”

“What is it?” He raises a dark brow but doesn’t move from his seat in the corner of the room. Instead of sleeping in the bed with the rest of us, he slumbers uncomfortably upright in a chair. And that’s if he sleeps at all, knowing him, he probably lurks in those dark hours.

“It’s a muffin.” I stalk toward him. “Blueberry.”

“Did you poison it?”

“What?” No. Why would I do that?”

“You’re entirely too excited. You must admit, it’s rather suspicious.”

"Fine," I pout. "Don't eat it." I peel back the paper surrounding the still-warm muffin and bite off a huge chunk of it, way more than I normally would have.

But I’m brought to a halt when Bo grabs my waist and tugs me toward him. He positions me between his legs and grips my chin. “Open up.” He tilts his head to where his lips are just a breath away from mine.

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