Chapter 35

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him.

Lily held the secret deep inside of her as she ventured out to the forest to report to Damon at the witch’s knoll. When he didn’t appear, she went off without him to locate the den. She knew where it was simply by memory—the tree with the fork in it. The stone with so much moss, it looked like a fuzzy pelt. The stream with the tiny waterfall in the center of it.

She couldn’t think—couldn’t possibly imagine how she was going to tell Damon that his mate was dead. That not only was she dead; she was a skeleton, in a cold and empty cell. That she had probably died a horrible death. A death all alone. Forgotten. Locked away.

And here Lily was, sleeping with the man she loved.

She was sorry. She was so sorry to that poor woman.