Page 102 of A Warrior's Fate

“A member of one of the wealthiest families in the pack, probably the entire continent,” Thyra began. “She’s the heiress to a fortune and the daughter of an alpha scion in Mimas. She and Alpha Kai had been on again, off again for years—before he became alpha. My sister followed all the gossip. The pack ate them up.” She let out a sigh. “They always looked so great in pictures.”

“In pictures,” Belle made a point in echoing while one hand went to rub her temples. “She’s nothing like she pretends to be when she’s behind closed doors. I was on her private guard for a while, while I was still in training. I have never heard two people switch up from fighting to fucking so fast.”

Isla straightened in her seat, feeling something inside her start to simmer. That was something about Kai’s past she wasn’t keen to hear about.

“That was literally all they did,” Belle continued to complain. “Fight, fuck, fight, fuck, fight—”

“Okay, we get it.” Rhydian put his hands up, and Isla felt his knee bump against hers beneath the table.

She turned to look up at him but found his eyes cast on her hand instead. She followed them to the fork in her grasp…slightly bent from the force of her thumb pressing down on it. Thankfully, neither Belle nor Thyra noticed.

Thyra lowered her voice. “They were together right before…you know. I heard she was with him when he found out.”

It took Isla a while to register what the teen was alluding to, and when it did, her insides turned watery.

“I heard they couldn’t find him for hours,” Belle said. “The whole pack knew before he did.”

Isla couldn’t get herself to swallow.

She couldn’t imagine how horrific that must’ve been for him. To wake up and find out half his family was gone forever, forget all the responsibility heaped on his shoulders. The thought of Kai that devastated made her sick and angry. At whom, she didn’t know. But a part of her wished she’d been there, even if they hadn’t known each other yet.

“It’s all rumors and speculation,” Rhydian said. “No one knows what really happened.”

Did he know about what happened? About the murders, the killer?

“Well, whoever he picks, no one will live up to Luna Zahra,” Belle countered. “She’s a goddess amongst us all.”

Thyra nodded. “Amen to that.”

Isla bit down on the inside of her cheek, looking down at her tray. She felt Rhydian knock against her knee again, but she refused to turn to him. Instead, she pushed food around on her plate.

Amen to that.

The last part of the day had been filled with endless drills with the warriors joining the guard. Isla stuck by Rhydian, doing her best to keep up with his long strides and endless supply of muscle mass. At points, they competed. Isla was beet-red and panting by the time dusk hit, and there had still been one more drill that involved climbing up a steep trail along the mountain that many had to drop out from.

Her body was screaming and aching when the warriors finally retreated to the hotel. They’d be doing the same thing tomorrow and the next day and the next day until it was time to head off.

As she bordered on a limp through the lobby, she heard her name called from behind her.

It was Davina, standing behind the front desk.

“I recognize that look,” she greeted with a laugh as Isla approached, noting her physical discomfort and disheveled appearance. Her cheery mood did little to distract and alleviate any pain. “There’s a package for you.”

Isla furrowed her brows. “For me? From where?”

Davina shrugged before handing her the brown-encased parcel. Isla weighed it in her hand; it was considerably heavy.

Fear blooming in her chest—given her track record recently with unexpected events—she bid Davina goodbye before moving as fast as she could to her room.

As soon as she broke the threshold, she tossed the box onto her bed, hearing a faint rattle with it. She paused—then was happy no one could see her as she grabbed hold of her sword, even if she had what she considered valid reasons.

She poked the parcel with the tip of her blade. Once. Twice. Then made a clear slice along the side, peeling back the brown paper to reveal a sleek black box. Atop it was a white piece of paper, so stark against the surface.

Heart in her throat, she approached it slowly. Her fingers were trembling as she picked it up and read: A GIFT FOR A GIFT.

She felt a thrumming in her chest, but terror was no longer the reason.

The corners of Isla’s lips twitched up as she placed her sword on the mattress and brushed some of her hair out of her face that was coated in dry sweat. She lifted the lid from the box slowly. In it, she found the luxurious sheen of silk as dark as ink, the fabric rich and finely made. It was smooth beneath her fingertips as she ran her hands along it before hooking the two straps. They were thin, she noticed as she lifted the dress. Diving down into a plunging neckline that ended at the cinched waist, stitched with subtle corded patterns, just above where her navel would be. From the middle, it split again, a high slit, certain to leave her leg on display before it pooled onto the ground like an obsidian lagoon.

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