One more chapter and then the epilogue!

Common sense told me it had been too easy to pry the information from Colm. After all, if he was capable of murder—and yes, I do consider the killing of an innocent cat to be murder—then why wouldn't he be capable of setting me up? Hunter was on his way out as soon as Colm was able to speak through the blood and busted nasal passages, contacting everyone he knew in the area and making sure Iona had no access to any of her cronies. I had been ready to bind Colm and walk out the door to race over to where Katrina supposedly held my daughter captive…but there was something concerning in the wary gaze of Colm's unremarkable eyes: he was lying to us.

I waited till Hunter had left, swearing I would keep him posted and not loosen the braigh or my binding spell—Colm certainly didn't deserve mercy for what he'd done. Colm was slumped in a dining chair, wrists bound on his lap, the angry red welts swollen over the silver chain. He gave me a small pleading look, but surely even he couldn't be so dense as to think I would take pity on him.

Instead, I crossed my arms and stood in front of him, far enough from his reach but close enough to let him see me clearly, let him sense the cascade of frenzied emotions that were roaring through me.

"Where is she, Colm?" I asked evenly. His lips set in a hard line, his eyes dropping down to his now ruined wrists. "I'll let you go." I promised, my voice taking on a sweet tone.

Colm's eyes snapped up, desperate hope returning to the pale irises. "Morgan, yes, please. I-I can explain everything."

I extended a hand towards him, brushing manipulative fingers through his light brown locks. "I know you can." I replied, letting my thumb brush his cheekbone. "What are your conditions?"

Colm held up his wrists wordlessly, and I shook my head and pulled my hand away, stepping back out of his reach. "Morgan, you can't imagine how painful this is—please." His bottom lip trembled and he gave me a hard look. "How can you love someone who would inflict pain like this onto others?"

"That's not something I love about him," I said softly. "And he hates having to do it. That's one of the reasons he left the Council in the first place."

Colm barked out a bitter laugh. "Open your eyes. He still chose to do it."

My eyes snapped to his as he unknowingly echoed a conversation I'd once had with Sky, right after I had witnessed him using the braigh on David Redstone.

"Do you think he enjoyed that?" Sky had asked, clearly horrified that I could imply such a thing.

"He chose it," I'd insisted. "Hunter became a Seeker, knowing what he'd be required to do. He's good at it!"

Colm was as indignant now as I had been all those years ago, so sure that Hunter was in the wrong, so sure that he got off on hurting people and Woodbanes in particular. But that was not the case, not at all. I understood now, especially now, how he was able to handle the traumas of his line of work—it hurt him more than anyone to have to do it, but more people would be spared in the end. That was the payoff: one bad witch for many more good ones.

Hunter and Cal on the cliff the night of my seventeenth birthday…it made so much more sense now. Now that I was looking through the lens of an adult in a healthy, loving relationship, I could see that Hunter, even when he barely knew me and we had rightfully despised each other, had only wanted to protect me. He had begged me to run away, had wanted to shield me from what he knew had to be done. My boyfriend at the time, Cal, now seemed like such a weakling. He had bound me, and though he'd sworn it was to protect me, I knew it had been to control me. Upon discovering I had broken through his amateur spell, he had compelled me to help him, had led me to believe Hunter was going to kill him. What would have happened if I had walked away then, had let Hunter do his job?

Cal would probably be alive now, and Hunter would have had no choice but to move on. We wouldn't have been drawn together, wouldn't have had the conflict that amped up our shared hatred and desire for each other. Hunter would be safe, far from my influence and crazy half-family and Cal would be alive…it would have been a much better outcome for everyone but me.

"Colm, what do you even have to offer me?" I asked out of curiosity more than anything—I hadn't planned to ask, but now I had to know. Hunter was half of my entire being, our daughter a physical manifestation of our love for one another. What could Colm offer that could possibly compete with that? "If your conditions are for me to return to Ireland, to marry you, what do I get in return?"

His eyes softened on me, at the thought of us being married, and I fought the urge to gag. "You would have a devoted husband." He said simply. "One that would never let work come between us. Our children would be of Belwicket—don't you want that, Morgan? Don't you want a pure Woodbane child?"

"God, no!" I sputtered out a laugh, catching him completely off guard. "And besides, Moira's my firstborn, the rightful heir to my family's tools. It wouldn't matter if I had children with you, Colm, not when I already have a daughter."

He looked angry for a brief moment, then stilled, his attention locked over my shoulder. I reached my senses out, picking up on the essence of the woman now standing in my doorway. I whipped around to see Katrina, her eyes filled with fury at the sight of her son bound to a chair in my living room.

"If you want your daughter," Katrina warned, her voice making my heart skip a beat at its intensity. "You will unbind him. Now."

I took in a shaky breath, trying to sense Moira but failing. She's not here—a smart decision on Katrina's part. "I'll remove the braigh," I said slowly. "But I will not unbind him until I have her."

"You are not in a position to make demands, Morgan."

I shook my head, either in disbelief that this was happening or in acknowledgment that I was surely losing my mind. I mean, this could not really be happening.

And yet…

"I won't report either of you to the New Charter or the Council." I offered. "I'll make Hunter drop it and let all this go if you give her back and leave us alone. No harm, no foul. You will never hear from us again."

Katrina looked at me with pity. "That's not going to work, dear." She nodded to Colm's wrists. "Let him go—now—and we'll discuss alternatives."

I glanced back at Colm, at the man who had once professed his love to me on a cliff overlooking the raging sea—a far more romantic setting than Hunter's declaration had been, on a dock on the Hudson River, just as I was breaking up with him. Colm had brought a picnic and had a speech prepared, waiting until the sun was beginning to set to tell me he'd loved me from the moment we'd met, and that he'd been devastated when he'd found out I had a boyfriend. He swore then that he wouldn't let that deter him, that he knew the Goddess had put me in his path for a reason.

And I had listened patiently, thinking it a sweet gesture but admittedly wondering what he'd be like in bed. It had been two months since I had seen Hunter, and the intermittent phone sex was phenomenal…but not as good as being with him physically. I had seen Colm shirtless before, even naked from afar one Beltane, and the sight had been nice but not impressive. The fantasies I had quickly conjured up as he spoke depressed me more than anything. He didn't strike me as the type to like anything rough, to let the woman take the lead. From years of exploring with Hunter, he knew exactly where to kiss, where to place feather light touches or grab me hard. Foreplay was almost a game for us, a naughty, competitive preview for the explosion that would come later. Would Colm be okay with my breathy, wanton, and sometimes filthy moans and commands? Would he respect me too much to spank me while I rode him? Would he accept a morning blowjob but not return the favor?

Probably. He didn't strike me as the reciprocal type. He would adore me, want to take me on my back so he could see my face as he pushed into me—never from behind, my long hair wrapped in his grip. Honestly, I would probably be too embarrassed to suggest such a thing with him. I barely knew him, had no desire to let him know me intimately. A life with him meant shutting down the physical need so deeply rooted in me.

By the time the underwhelming vision had cleared my mind, I had had to let him down easy. I loved him as a friend, but I was devoted to my boyfriend, my soulmate. Colm was conventionally attractive, but Cal and Hunter had both ruined other men for me in various ways. I'd dated the tall, dark, mysterious type and sold my soul to the icy cool God who, for whatever reason, loved and desired me as much as I loved and so desired him. A life without Hunter made no sense—no one could replace him. No one could even be an adequate stand-in.

I could make a life with Colm, sure, but it would be a half-life. It would be a sweet marriage, weekends spent gardening or antique shopping, capping off the evening with a cup of tea and a nice bath or lazy lovemaking under the covers. Cute, affectionate, but not for me. Colm needed a woman who was just as tame as he was—why couldn't he see that I would not be good for him? Why would he want a woman he knew he couldn't have, or at the very least, one whose heart belonged to another?

I stepped forward and braced myself to break a promise to Hunter—another one—and loosened the braigh off of Colm's wrists. He made a move to touch my face, but I pulled back before he had the chance to make contact. I tossed the warm chain onto the floor, the amount of rage I felt holding it in my hands surprising me.

Colm took a tentative step up from the chair, cautiously testing the boundaries of the light spell I had over him.

"Thank you," he whispered, rubbing his wrists.

I gave him a stern glance and looked back over at Katrina, her stance relaxed and expression smug.

"Let's go for a drive, Morgan." She suggested. "I have something to show you."

Before I could tell her to take a hike, Colm was gently nudging me to the door. He cared about me deeply, that much I could sense. But why? What did he see in me when we had absolutely no chemistry, at least on my end?

In Katrina's rental car, a basic model silver sedan, I sat in the front passenger seat, Colm in the seat directly behind me. I popped down the visor and slid open the mirror, catching his eyes and sending him a warning. I'm watching you. He quickly looked away, buckling his seatbelt. I deliberately left mine off, willing to break every bone in my body to escape if I had to. Katrina noticed this, her eyes darkening at my lack of trust in them as she buckled her own seatbelt.

She started up the car and backed out of my driveway, being careful not to jump the sharp curb that I caught far too often.

"You want answers, Morgan? Fine." Katrina muttered, swinging a sharp left onto a thankfully clear street. "We sought you out in Scotland because we needed you." Katrina explained, as if that was all that needed to be said.

"That doesn't excuse your actions." I scoffed. "My god, do you realize what you've done—what you've both done?" I whipped my head back to see at a shame-faced Colm, regret evident in the blush on his cheeks.

"You are the last of the Riordans, Morgan," Katrina continued, paying no mind to my outburst. "Well, until you had your daughter, at least. Still, she's not purely of Belwicket." She gave me a pointed glance before pulling into a forested area I had never seen before, trees with overgrown branches and summer leaves providing the ultimate security from passersby. "Not like you. You and Colm could give us a whole new lineage of powerful, Belwicket witches. Riordan and Byrne, the new generation." She ended her dream on a wistful note, making hysteria rise within me and clench my throat.

"I-I'm not fully of Belwicket, either, Katrina." I told her, my voice hoarse and breath shallow. "I'm half Ciaran. I've never had pure Belwicket magick in my blood."

Katrina put the car in park and shifted in her seat to eye me speculatively. "Being Maeve is enough for us, dear. That's the only part that matters."

I sat back, glancing back at the mirror to Colm's awaiting eyes. "But I'm not Maeve." I said evenly to both of them. "I'm not Maeve Riordan—I'm Morgan, and I'm going to be a Niall, not a Byrne. You need to let the past go and move forward."

The two of them exchanged a glance before Katrina popped her door open and went to retrieve a bundle behind a maple tree, the tips of its stunning green leaves turning red, already embracing autumn. Colm got out, then opened my door for me, extending a hand to help me out, which I rejected, sidestepping him and quickly putting distance between us.

A soft cry grabbed our attention, our heads whipping over to where Katrina had been hiding my baby. I ran to her, making it only three feet from the annoyed infant before surprisingly strong arms held me back.

My eyes scanned over her, noting the change of clothing and still well-fed appearance, sending silent thanks to the Goddess for watching over her and not allowing any harm to befall her. My eyes spotted the diaper bag partially obstructed by the tree and felt relief flood me that she had probably been on formula the last few days.

Frustration threatened to overtake me, and I knew I could break free of Colm's grip easily, but wasn't going to chance anything while Katrina still held Moira.

"She is a lovely little thing, isn't she?" Katrina cooed, gently swaying with her. "Hopefully you can see that, Morgan?"

I nodded. "She is."

Katrina's blue eyes met mine. "Surely you can make the best decision for her, then?"

I swallowed. "Which is?"

She stopped her swaying, one arm dropping to the side of her flowy, long summer dress two sizes too big for her. "The best thing for her would be to have her mother raise her in the right coven. If you agree to return with us, we will accept Moira as one of our own." She glances up at her son and gives an almost malicious nod, her eyes hardening as Colm's grip tightened. "Colm will accept her as his own."

A shiver began to rush through me as I pondered what that meant for Hunter, what that meant for me. They want me to marry him, obviously, but what about Hunter?

Katrina, sensing my hesitation, pulled out an athame from the pocket of her dress. I had a silly thought, wondering what Katrina could possibly do with an athame, when I see that it's not just an ordinary tool. It was a sharpened one, I could see from the shiny glint reflected off the sunlight filtering through the leaves above us. Athames should not be sharpened—but this one was. This one was meant to inflict pain, destruction, just as the birthday athame that had gone into Hunter's neck had been. She held it dangerously close to my baby's tender cheek, the rosy, plump flesh all but inviting the blade. My blood ran like ice in my veins, all the muscles in my arms and legs seizing as realization struck that one wrong move would result in harm to Moira.

"Katrina," I said shakily. My eyes widened and I began to nod frantically as the cool metal of the blade just barely touched her perfect face. "Okay, okay, I'll do it!" I all but shout, silently begging Moira not to move in her sleep. "I'll return with you. I'll marry Colm, just don't hurt her!" The blade left her face by a mere centimeter, but it was enough to let air return to my lungs. Katrina kept her arms still, waiting for the rest of my promise. "I-I'll have Colm's children." I choked out on a sob, reality crashing down all around me. That was the absolute last thing I wanted, but I would do anything for the little girl in Katrina's greedy arms.

Colm's grip relaxed then, spinning me around to face him. I had the good sense to close my eyes as he lowered down to me, lips meeting my parted ones, tears streaming down my cheeks. His kiss is all wrong, knowing I was coerced into it. I wanted to cry and wait for Hunter to wake me up from this horridly vivid nightmare…but that didn't happen.

When Colm pulled back, he led me back to the car, opening the door for me in a presumably gentlemanly gesture. I buckled my seatbelt this time, and Colm smiled down at me before closing my door and getting into the backseat.

I sat up straight, staring in disbelief as Katrina came back to the car without my baby. I move to unbuckle my seatbelt but Colm stops me, his sweaty palm resting on the back of my hand.

"Don't worry," he assured me. "We'll send for her once we're settled at home."

"That wasn't the deal." I choked out, my vision blurring with unshed tears as Katrina let herself back into the car.

I failed. I completely failed in rescuing my daughter. I found her and I couldn't even hold her, couldn't touch her cheeks or pouty mouth. I ripped my hand away from Colm's and wiped the tears from my face, letting the anger overtake me as their deceit hung heavy in the air of the small car.

Feeling it was a lost cause anyway, I sent a message to Hunter, telling him where Moira was. Apologizing for how everything turned out and begging him to take care of her until I could find a way to return to them one day. It was a defeatist attitude, I knew, but I no longer had it in me to fight them.

Until Hunter replied, that is. He'd found her just minutes after we'd driven off, had found out Moira's location hours ago and hadn't wanted to worry me with it.

You asshole, was all I had to say to him as Katrina drove us further out of town. If Moira was safe, then what the hell did I have to lose, I reasoned. We were approaching curves up ahead with tree-lined ditches. If I was going to do something reckless, I may as well take them down with me.

Before we approached the first sharp curve, I began to craft a binding spell on Katrina, starting in her legs to ensure she would stay rooted to the gas pedal, then working my way up to her arms. By the second curve, I re-buckled my seatbelt, willed my body to relax, then yanked up on the emergency brake in a move so quick neither of them could have seen it coming.

The car began to spin out, as I'd hoped, and Katrina attempted to right us, but overcorrected into a lightning-split tree at the edge of the ditch we'd spun out into. Colm cried out as his door had taken the impact, glass shattering all around him.

Katrina's age and level of strength won out over her adrenaline and rage, allowing me a chance to pop open my door, fling my seatbelt off, and rush out of the car. The slam of my door and the force of Colm's kicking as he attempted to get his open put too much pressure on the deadened tree, a sickening crack giving us a warning of what was to come.

Colm was almost to the other door, Katrina's door opened and her body half-way out, when the tree made contact and dropped onto the cheap plastic roof. I muffled a scream behind my hands as they clasped over my mouth, my eyes wide as I whipped around to face the road, unwilling to see what horrors I had just unleashed with my carelessness.