To heal a Rogue
Chapter 29: Keep your secrets

Chapter 29: Keep your secrets

BONNIE

"Great," he said, with a half-shrug that told me he didn’t think it was great at all.

"What next?" I asked, though honestly, I already knew I’d follow him anywhere he suggested. There were only so many places to hide from the day, and fewer people I trusted to hide with.

"I’m not sure." He glanced down the corridor, then back at me, something twitchy and unsettled in the set of his shoulders. "While we wait for evening to come, we should head somewhere more..." He let the thought trail off, like he’d started to say the word safe and then decided that was tempting fate. "Follow me."

I did, because what else was there to do? Standing in that guest room by myself, with nothing but the stale air and the rope in the bottom drawer for company, sounded like slow suffocation. I’d had quite enough of my own thoughts for one day. So I trailed after him, not quite side by side, but close enough that I could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing and tell by the way his hands curled and flexed that he was fighting off his own nerves.

We walked in silence for a while. His steps were even, almost measured, like he could out-stubborn the tension in the air. Mine dragged a little, still stiff from hours spent on cold cell floors and the lingering ache of wolfsbane, the kind that seeped into your bones and made you feel ancient.

He broke the silence first, still looking straight ahead. "Are you certain?" he said, his voice a notch quieter. "That you don’t want me to defend you when evening comes? When they accuse you of a crime you didn’t commit and brand you a breeder in front of half the visiting packs in this territory?" His jaw worked, and something flickered in his eyes I couldn’t quite name. "It’s an open secret caste, lower than Omegas. If that mark goes on you tonight, it could be a permanent flaw."

"Well," I said, doing my best to sound lighter than I felt, "I did want to escape earlier. But since you will not let me, I think I’m alright with just clearing my name properly." I looked straight ahead, determined not to let him see whatever was written on my face. "Once the truth comes out—once whoever actually did this is dragged into the open—my name gets cleared on its own. And maybe then you’ll be kind enough to finally reject me, and we can go our separate ways like none of this ever happened."

I watched him from the corner of my eye as I spoke, searching for some flicker of agreement, some sign that he saw the sense in it. But his face stayed carefully blank, the kind of blank that meant he’d already made up his mind and wasn’t going to argue about it with words. That made something twist low in my stomach—a knot of frustration and something else I didn’t want to name. For a second, I hated myself for not running when I still had the rope in my hands.

I watched him from the corner of my eye when I said it, hunting for some flicker of agreement, some sign that he saw the sense in it the way I did. Instead his face stayed carefully blank, the kind of blank that told me he’d already decided that particular future wasn’t going to happen and didn’t feel the need to argue about it out loud. It made something twist low in my stomach, some ugly little knot of frustration that I refused to call anything else.

I hated that I hadn’t just run when I still had the rope in my hands. The thought curled in my gut, sour and sharp, and I shoved it away before it could spread any further.

"Where are we going, then?" I asked, needing a new subject—anything to keep regret from sinking its teeth in.

"It’s been a long time, actually, since I’ve been here," he said, a faraway look flickering across his face. "But I had a suite. I believe I should still have it."

Something shifted behind his words—a flicker of guilt, maybe, or something quieter and sadder. I caught it more in the bond than in his voice, and decided to let it go. Whatever haunted him, it wasn’t my place to pry it open. I did not give a damn.

"When you were talking with your uncle," I said, changing tack, "in the library. It sounded like you didn’t want the throne at all. What changed your mind?"

He went silent for a few steps, eyes fixed on the hallway ahead as if the answer might be waiting for him around the next corner.

"Something is clearly going on here," he said finally. "And I intend to figure out exactly what." He hesitated, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, like it cost him something. "I also knew I needed the power. If I was going to have any real chance of saving you."

He stopped walking, turning to face me directly. There was a searching look in his expression—measuring, weighing—and it made my spine straighten, a pulse of alertness running through me.

"There’s something I did find odd, though," he added, and his tone shifted, more analytical now.

"What?" I asked, bracing myself for whatever revelation he was about to drop. My heart thudded, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though some part of me already knew I wouldn’t like what came next.

"You saw one of them. The attackers." His eyes locked on mine, steady and unblinking, and suddenly it felt like there was no air in the hallway. "Surely a fight would have broken out. How did you walk out of that room alive when my uncle didn’t?"

I felt the shield around the bond flicker, up and then down again—a stupid, involuntary reflex I hadn’t fully mastered yet. It was one of those tells I hated, as obvious as a flinch. The question hung between us, heavy as a threat.

"Sorry," I said, my voice thin. "Reflex."

He didn’t move. "Why? If you have nothing to hide."

I let my hand drift up to the bandage at my temple, pressing just hard enough to fake a wince I didn’t actually feel anymore. The wound had already knitted shut in the shower not an hour ago, but it was easier to play at weakness than let him look too closely anywhere else.

"My memory’s mostly hazy," I lied, watching his expression for any sign he might buy it. "I did get this."

"That was a sentinel," he countered immediately. "Not the attackers."

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice even. "I also happen to be a good fighter. Maybe they wanted me alive—to frame me properly, instead of just leaving a body behind that couldn’t talk."

He didn’t flinch. "You would have been more useful dead."

The words landed flat and certain, and I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight in a way that had nothing to do with wolfsbane. For a second, it was like he’d knocked the wind out of me with nothing but the truth.

"I believe you," he said, before I could find anything to say. "I know you didn’t kill him. But you clearly have secrets, Bonnie, and it’s beyond me why you’re hiding something from me now, of all times."

Heat crawled up my neck, some messy mix of guilt and defiance I didn’t have the energy to properly untangle. It was easier to look past him than meet his eyes.

"Your uncle," I said, latching on to the first thing that came to mind, "before he died, said something. I believe it was... Beware of the night children."