The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 503

Liora’s POV

We drove until the sky went from black to gray to the pale, washed-out blue of early morning, and then we kept driving still, and we didn’t stop until the tank was at near-empty and our legs ached and Mia’s body went cold.

The entire time, nobody spoke. Callum drove with his one good arm—his wolf had healed most of the wound from the arrow, but I could tell it was still hurting him from the way his jaw clenched every time he moved—while I sat in the passenger seat with the stolen guard’s jacket over my shoulders.

Zane was in the back with Mia. I didn’t look in the rearview mirror. I already knew what I would see, and I couldn’t bear to see it.

Eventually, the paved, winding back roads gave way to dirt and gravel. Callum pulled off onto what looked like an abandoned hunting trail that led into the woods. He didn’t say anything, but we all knew what he was looking for.

A good spot.

After thirty minutes of bumping over uneven, overgrown old tire tracks and having to get out twice to push the car out of mud, he stopped. The tree branches hung low, scratching the roof of the car in the breeze as morning sunlight danced in serene dapples across the forest floor.

“Here?” Zane said from the back. His voice was rough, and I could tell he had been crying but I knew he would never admit it.

Callum nodded. I didn’t argue. We got out.

The forest was quiet. Birdsong was coming from the treetops. Not far off in the distance, I could hear the sound of water, perhaps a small creek or brook running through the forest. The air was warm and redolent with early summer.

Zane and Callum quietly lifted Mia out of the backseat. I had to turn away for that part and squeeze my eyes shut. Two silent tears slipped down my cheeks when I opened them again, but when I turned back, I found that they had carefully wrapped Mia in a blanket I kept in the trunk. She looked even smaller like that.

We walked a little further off the path, stepping over exposed tree roots and fallen logs. Zane walked silently at the back, carrying Mia. Eventually, we found a spot that seemed almost suitable for burying our dead friend. Nowhere would ever feel “right”, but it was pretty and serene, just a small clearing where the long grass had been tamped down by deer sleeping overnight and wildflowers dotted the perimeter.

I knew Mia would love this place. I could already picture her reading here, sprawled out on a blanket with the sun in her hair, and then it hit me that I’d only known her in winter, that I’d never truly gotten to see the sun in her hair, and another tear slipped free.

Zane carefully set Mia down on the grass, cradling her head.

It took time to pull up the grass and dig with our hands. None of us said anything while we worked; I focused on putting my fingers into the soil, feeling how cool and damp it was, then pulling it away, then going back in for another scoop. Methodical. Something to keep my mind off of the reason why I was doing it.

Finally, the hole was just big enough. Zane lifted Mia, whispering to her as he carried her over. He set her down in the soil, pressed his hand to her chest and shut his eyes, then stepped back and looked at me.

I took a breath and walked over, dropping to my knees in the dirt beside her. Tears blurred my vision as I pressed my palm flat against the blanket, right where I knew her hands were clasped over her chest. I could feel her fingers through the fabric, still and slender.

“You were always so small,” I whispered. “Like you had bird bones. And yet…” I exhaled. “You were the strongest person I ever met.”

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