Chapter 7
It took Dominic two days to find Serena.
He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Didn't feel the shadow-contaminated air burning his lungs as he tracked her through dead forests and abandoned outposts.
The system updated him periodically—pack casualties rising, water sources blackening one by one, wolves turning feral as the Shadow Plague's first tendrils reached them.
He didn't care.
He found her in a collapsed watchtower at the edge of the Rogue Territories.
She wasn't alone. James was with her—the wolf who'd been her lapdog from the start, feeding Dominic lies, isolating me from allies, making sure I was always alone when it mattered.
They were arguing when he arrived.
"The rogues were supposed to meet us here—" Serena's voice, shrill with panic.
"They're not coming," James said. "The Plague hit their territory first. They're all dead or turned."
Dominic stepped into the doorway, blocking the moonlight.
Both of them froze.
Serena recovered first—she always did.
"Dominic—" Her voice shifted instantly, soft and trembling. "Oh, thank the Goddess you found us. James forced me to leave—I didn't want to go—I was so scared—"
James stared at her in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"
Dominic didn't speak. He just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And realized, with the clarity that only comes when everything is already lost, that he couldn't even remember why he'd loved her.
What had she actually done for him? What had she sacrificed? What had she given?
Nothing.
She'd only ever taken.
"Serena," he said. His voice was quiet. "I'm going to ask you one question. If you lie, I'll know."
She swallowed, still attempting the tearful angle. "Anything."
"When you sent those men to Elara's pod that last night. What did you tell them to do?"
The blood drained from her face.
"I—I don't know what you're—"
He moved so fast she didn't see it.
His hand closed around her throat, lifting her off the ground.
James lunged—and Dominic's free hand caught him by the skull and slammed him into the stone wall so hard the crack echoed through the tower.
James slid to the ground, motionless.
Dominic turned back to Serena, dangling in his grip, her feet kicking uselessly.
"The system showed me everything," he said, calm as death. "The surveillance footage. You told them—" His voice caught, just barely. "You told them it was her 'last night being conscious.' You told them to do whatever they wanted."
Serena choked, clawing at his hand.
He didn't let go.
"She was already dying," he whispered. "Burned and broken and alone and you sent men to—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Instead, he carried her outside.
The shadow-sick forest was crawling with turned wolves—former rogues, now mindless beasts, drawn by the scent of blood and fear.
He dropped her at the tree line.
And watched her realize what was about to happen.
"No—Dominic—PLEASE—" She crawled toward him, grabbing at his legs.
He stepped back.
"You made Elara face this. A pyre. Alone. No one coming to help. And you watched." He crouched down, looking into her terrified eyes. "Now you'll know exactly how she felt."
He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Didn't feel the shadow-contaminated air burning his lungs as he tracked her through dead forests and abandoned outposts.
The system updated him periodically—pack casualties rising, water sources blackening one by one, wolves turning feral as the Shadow Plague's first tendrils reached them.
He didn't care.
He found her in a collapsed watchtower at the edge of the Rogue Territories.
She wasn't alone. James was with her—the wolf who'd been her lapdog from the start, feeding Dominic lies, isolating me from allies, making sure I was always alone when it mattered.
They were arguing when he arrived.
"The rogues were supposed to meet us here—" Serena's voice, shrill with panic.
"They're not coming," James said. "The Plague hit their territory first. They're all dead or turned."
Dominic stepped into the doorway, blocking the moonlight.
Both of them froze.
Serena recovered first—she always did.
"Dominic—" Her voice shifted instantly, soft and trembling. "Oh, thank the Goddess you found us. James forced me to leave—I didn't want to go—I was so scared—"
James stared at her in disbelief. "Are you serious right now?"
Dominic didn't speak. He just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And realized, with the clarity that only comes when everything is already lost, that he couldn't even remember why he'd loved her.
What had she actually done for him? What had she sacrificed? What had she given?
Nothing.
She'd only ever taken.
"Serena," he said. His voice was quiet. "I'm going to ask you one question. If you lie, I'll know."
She swallowed, still attempting the tearful angle. "Anything."
"When you sent those men to Elara's pod that last night. What did you tell them to do?"
The blood drained from her face.
"I—I don't know what you're—"
He moved so fast she didn't see it.
His hand closed around her throat, lifting her off the ground.
James lunged—and Dominic's free hand caught him by the skull and slammed him into the stone wall so hard the crack echoed through the tower.
James slid to the ground, motionless.
Dominic turned back to Serena, dangling in his grip, her feet kicking uselessly.
"The system showed me everything," he said, calm as death. "The surveillance footage. You told them—" His voice caught, just barely. "You told them it was her 'last night being conscious.' You told them to do whatever they wanted."
Serena choked, clawing at his hand.
He didn't let go.
"She was already dying," he whispered. "Burned and broken and alone and you sent men to—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Instead, he carried her outside.
The shadow-sick forest was crawling with turned wolves—former rogues, now mindless beasts, drawn by the scent of blood and fear.
He dropped her at the tree line.
And watched her realize what was about to happen.
"No—Dominic—PLEASE—" She crawled toward him, grabbing at his legs.
He stepped back.
"You made Elara face this. A pyre. Alone. No one coming to help. And you watched." He crouched down, looking into her terrified eyes. "Now you'll know exactly how she felt."