Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 70: Is She Dead? 

Gemma

I walked through the house, my breath caught in my lungs. I felt out of body as I followed the warrior up the stairs, my eyes focused on the open door to Rosalie’s and Ethan’s bedroom as we climbed toward the top of the staircase.

It couldn’t be true. I couldn’t make sense of it.

“Send word to Mirage, immediately. I don’t care if you have to send runners over the Eastern Mountains. You must get word to Ethan, now!” I said harshly, my voice steady despite the storm of vicious emotions rippling through my body. I knew it was a fruitless effort on the warrior’s end. Ethan would have been able to feel Rosalie depart. He would know. He would,

Oh, Goddess, no. This can’t be real.

Rosalie was laid out in her bed, her eyes closed, and hands folded neatly over her chest. I fought against the sob that was tightening my throat and nodded, accepted the harsh, unfair reality, then turned away from her to wipe the tears from my eyes. I wouldn’t let them see me cry. Not Georgia, or Kacidra. No one.

Georgia and Shelly were downstairs tending to Hanna, who was breathing but hadn’t woken up. I hadn’t known about the plan Rosalie and Hanna had concocted. If I had, I would have stopped them. It was a stupid, useless endeavor, dark magic with now fatal ends.

The warrior had closed the door behind me when I entered the room.

I was alone with Rosalie’s body.

I forced myself to look at her again, letting my eyes linger on her face. Goddess, she looked so young. Too young to be dead. I felt a rush of fury and I screwed up my face into a scowl to stop myself from crying.

“What the hell were you thinking?”] hissed at her, hot tears welling in the corners of my eyes. “How-how could you leave us? How could you? Maeve-what about Maeve? She’s not ready-”

I balled my fist and punched the wall hard enough to put a hole in the drywall. I yelped, then fell to my knees, cradling my broken fingers with my other hand as I let the tears fall freely.

Oh, Maeve. Oh, Goddess, what were we going to do?

I heard the doorknob click and turn, and I rose, lunging forward to prevent it from opening but was too late. Kacidra walked into

the room, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She was a mess, her clothes tattered, and skin scratched from the glass that had covered what remained of the temple. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and I could see the pools of blood soaking through the white fabric near the base of her skull. She had blood in her hair and on her face. She looked like death itself.

“What the f*ck are you doing in here? How dare you-“I began, my voice biting and edged with insatiable fury.

“Don’t speak to me that way,” she snapped, her eyes blazing. “You’re not a Luna yet, Gemma.”

“Get out!” I screeched, taking a step toward her.

But Kacidra was motionless, a challenging look etched into the fine details of her face. “Hanna didn’t do this,” she said sternly, assertively.

| almost laughed. “Oh, she didn’t? Then who,” *

“You won’t understand. I know you won’t even try to understand.”

“I’m not going to stand here and allow you to spout that nonsense about magic dreams and powers, Kacidra. Not at the foot of her bed. Have some fucking respect-”

“You’re not supposed to be alive, Gemma. You know it as much as I know it. Ernest knew you were dead when he carried you into the woods. You weren’t supposed to be standing here, right now. Why do you think you came back? Who do you think was responsible for that?”

the tale of what happened to us after Poldesse invaded the castle. I was aware that she knew. But I hadn’t had a

sister murdered the White

she repeated with heated

looking at her, watching her face twist and then fall. I took a step forward, pointing at her with

you. She gave my sister

“Your sister killed”

me!” Kacidra stopped

took a step away from her and gave myself an opportunity to take a deep

to convince me was the truth, it didn’t matter. The White Queen was dead and would still be dead. Gone. Never to come

“Did you hear me?”

seeing for the first time the exhaustion and utter despair lingering behind her green eyes. “No-l… I’m sorry. I’m just-this is

we could with the swell of my pregnancy in the way. I found myself resting my chin on her shoulder, sniffling as tears continued to roll hot and angry down my

do we do

don’t

kill Hanna,” she said with

he will. I doubt… I doubt he

did you come back?” Her question

untangled myself from

her eyes, swallowing back the trauma I still felt from the night at the castle that plagued

a clearing… 1–” | turned from her, looking over at Rosalie where she lay

in a similar fashion, lifeless. I reached up and ran my fingers over the necklace I was wearing, the circular moonstone set in white gold. I had a small burn mark on my chest, the scar only a smooth, white patch on my

grip Kacidra’s shoulder for support. She

castle wasn’t the cloudless, morning sky above my head. It wasn’t Ernest’s voice lifted

stinging sensation on my chest. I had reached up to touch it, feeling only the necklace my mother had given me. It was hot, so incredibly hot to the touch that I couldn’t help but let it go. And then I sat

dreamt it.

it was

Hanna and her dreams? Something about

up to pull the necklace

reaching out to try to grab my

I crawled on all fours over the bed, essentially straddling Rosalie’s body. I pressed the necklace to her chest where the skin

still covered in splotches of blood from where glass as sliced through her skin. “Blood… her blood, oh! Of course!” | was delirious. I had officially lost my mind as I ripped open her shirt to expose more of her chest

away from Rosalie, but I shook her away, just as I lifted the piece of

moonstone.

Nothing happened.

her, Gemma! What if someone

I said

Rosalie and I sunk to my knees next to the bed, staring up at the profile of the White Queen as she lay

“She’s gone, Gemma.”

just thought-how could I have possibly

tilted her head to the side, eyeing the necklace. “Is it… supposed to

“Like what?”

got to my feet, the breath catching in my throat as I looked down at the necklaee laying limp over Rosalie’s chest. It was glowing so faintly it was almost impossible to notice it. I could see the skin around where the necklace lay began to pinken, to warm.