Chapter 767: Go To Lunaris

Duskmoon Village

Lauren sat upright the moment the door creaked open. Her sister Layla stood in the doorway of what used to be their room, her expression guarded and unreadable.

Lauren swallowed. Ever since the night everything had fallen apart—since Father had discovered the lie about Hannah—Layla had moved out. She slept elsewhere now, and lived as if this room no longer existed.

Hence aside from the brief, stiff encounters in the halls or moments like this when she came to check on her, Layla practically treated her like a stranger now.

"Hey," Layla said finally.

Lauren pushed herself higher against the headboard, the blanket slipping down her arms. "Hey."

There was an awkward pause.

Layla shifted her weight. "I-I came to check on you again. See how you’re doing today."

"I’m fine," Lauren said quickly. The word came out automatically. "Really."

Layla didn’t respond. Her gaze drifted slowly over Lauren’s body.

The scars were still there. They had faded from angry red to dull, livid pink, but they marked Lauren’s skin like a map of pain with thin lines running across her back, and bruises along her ribs.

Layla’s jaw clenched.

Their father Angus had forbidden any witch in Duskmoon from healing her. He’d wanted the wounds to stay and remind everyone that no one lied to him and walked away untouched.

"You’re healing," Layla said at last, her voice tight. "If that’s the case I’ll leave you be."

She turned toward the door.

"Layla—wait."

Lauren pushed herself off the bed, ignoring the sharp protest from her muscles.

"I’m sorry," she blurted. "Okay? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you lie. I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. I just—" Her voice cracked. "I didn’t want you to get hurt."

Layla froze. Slowly, she turned back. Her eyes were hard now.

"Get hurt?" Layla repeated. "Being under Ziva’s thumb is torture enough, Lauren. If we’d let her face her crime, if we’d told the truth, we’d be free by now."

Lauren shook her head fiercely. "Free?" she challenged. "You think we’d be free?"

Layla didn’t answer.

"You’d be dead," Lauren said, tears welling despite her effort to hold them back. "You know it. I know it. No matter what Ziva does, Father will always choose her over us. She’s important to his mission and unlike her, we’re disposable. And Ziva I know would have reminded you of it one way or the other."

Her voice broke completely then.

"There’s no getting rid of her," Lauren whispered. "And I’d rather take all the punishment in the world than lose you forever. I love you, L."

For a long moment, Layla didn’t move.

Lauren’s words left her stunned.

Layla wiped at her face with the back of her hand, embarrassed by the tears spilling freely now.

"I’m sorry," Laura said again, "The days without you they’ve been hell. I don’t sleep. I don’t breathe right. I know I messed up, but please—please forgive me."

Layla’s resolve shattered.

She crossed the room in three strides and pulled Lauren into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Lauren melted into her, clinging back just as fiercely.

"I missed you," Layla said hoarsely, her voice buried in Lauren’s hair. "I missed you so much."

"I’m sorry, Laura," Lauren sobbed. "I’m so sorry."

"It’s alright," Layla murmured, even though it wasn’t. Nothing about their lives was. "We’ll get through this. Together. Like we always do."

Slowly, they pulled apart.

The air between them tightened, heavy with the fear, guilt, love, and the fragile relief of not being alone anymore. Layla’s hand lingered at Lauren’s wrist, neither of them ready to let go.

Then Lauren leaned forward instinctively, forehead nearly touching Layla’s, their lips close enough —

A sharp knock cut through the moment.

"Sorry to interrupt..."

Ziva stood in the doorway, amused.

"Or maybe, I’m not," she added coolly.

Layla didn’t even think.

"You fucking bitch," she spat, fury exploding out of her as she rushed forward. "What are you doing here?"

She lunged at Ziva with every intention of hitting her but she barely took two steps before Lauren slammed into her from the side, arms wrapping around her waist and shoving her back hard.

"Layla—stop!" Lauren snapped. "I’ve got this."

Layla struggled against her for a heartbeat, her teeth clenched, and breath wild, before she finally stilled. Her hands shook with restrained violence as Lauren stepped forward, placing herself squarely between her sister and Ziva.

Lauren lifted her chin, eyes cold. "What do you want?"

Ziva leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded, watching them the way one might watch unruly children throwing a tantrum.

"Temper, temper," she said lightly. "Honestly, you’d think I came here to kill one of you."

Layla barked a laugh. "Give it time."

Ziva ignored her. "I’m here because I have an errand for you both."

"Hell no," Layla shot back instantly. "You’d have to literally break my limbs before I do anything for you again."

"Oh, trust me, I’d be thrilled to," Ziva said sweetly. "But unfortunately, this errand comes directly from Father. And he wouldn’t be very pleased to learn you’re suddenly too incapacitated to carry it out."

She chuckled, fingers drumming against the wood. "He’s rather fond of you having legs. Makes you useful."

The room went still.

Lauren and Layla exchanged a look heavy with resignation. If it was their father’s command, there was no refusal.

Layla exhaled through her nose.

"What is it," she demanded.

Ziva straightened, her tone turning businesslike. "You’re going to Lunaris Academy."

Lauren stiffened. "What?"

"The South House," Ziva clarified.

Layla’s eyes narrowed. "Why the South House?"

"Because that’s where Roman Draven resides."

Lauren frowned. "And what do you want with him?"

"I need a personal item belonging to him for a spell."

Layla scoffed. "You’re joking."

"You know how it works," Ziva continued, "Bodily items are the strongest. Hair. Blood. Tissue. But I doubt you’ll be able to get something like that with him being away for a while now."

Her eyes flicked between them. "So clothes will suffice or any item you perceive it’s important to him."

Lauren asked, curious. "Why Roman and not Violet?"

"Because," Ziva told her, "to get to Violet, we go through her mates." She took a step closer, her shadow stretching across the floor. "And Roman," she finished, almost lazily, "is the weakest link."

Ziva stepped back toward the door, satisfied. "You leave tonight, and try not to get caught."

She paused, glancing over her shoulder with a grin that promised nothing good.

"And do be careful," she added. "I’d hate to explain to Father how his little errand went wrong."