They had explained it to her.
They had told her how the nothingness would be a comfort. How the years of pain and sorrow would slowly ease and who and what she had been would be but memories for others.
Who and what she had been would be no more until chaos filled the night.
Tonight, Honor Roberts and Fawn Corrigan would die.
The six chiefs of the People, the old men who came together from more than one tribe of Native Americans, to help them, to save them, filled Fawn with awe.
It wasn’t awe Honor felt, though. It was gratitude.
Finally, the fight to live, to survive, was a fight others could struggle through. Perhaps now, she and Fawn would have the chance to just live.
At least, for a little while.
What had taken hours to actually happen flashed through her senses in a matter of minutes. It was there, like a cascade of frightening images clicking into place, pulling in those odd, half-formed memories that had tormented her over the years and rebuilding her from the soul out.
But as it did, a sense of overwhelming pain shuddered through her.
She was Honor Roberts—without family, without a past, a heritage or a true place in the world.
“Chaos,” she whispered as she stared back at Stygian where he crouched in front of her. “A night of chaos, Stygian.”
Concern and a hint of gathering strength flashed in his eyes.
She knew what he was doing—he knew what had happened in those few flashing moments that she had only stared up at them, neither hearing nor seeing whatever was happening around her.
“Stygian—”
His fingers pressed against her lips to shush her. “Let’s get you out of here, get those cuts bandaged.” Lifting her into his arms, Stygian had every intention of getting her the hell out of there before Jonas arrived and caught the scent Stygian had the moment he approached Liza.
The scent of knowledge.
It was the scent of resignation, truth and the awareness that Liza’s scent had drastically changed. Changed more than mating heat could ever be responsible for.
As though a stopper had been pulled free, allowing some physical part of her loose, as well as the subconscious, her entire scent had suddenly changed, and Stygian knew why.
She wasn’t hiding any longer.
Whatever had happened, however she had managed to avoid the three forms that had been seen flying into the room, it had done more than cause a few scratches on her knees, palms and cheek.
It had done far more.
“Stygian,” Jonas was moving into the room, his tone dark and demanding
Too f**king late.
Staring down at his mate, he saw the knowledge in her gaze that the reckoning was here.
“Later, Jonas!” Striding into their bedroom, he placed her on their bed, turning and meeting Jonas before he could push his way into the room.
“Later,” he repeated, stepping past the threshold and holding the door open only inches to ensure he heard if Liza were in danger again.
God, he wouldn’t be able to leave her alone for a second for years—for a lifetime.
Terror was still tearing through him, cramping his guts and burning through his mind.
The knowledge that the attack on the hotel was designed to take his mate had come the moment the signal to his security had vibrated in the watch he wore.