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CHAPTER 44 - Release

Luke woke before the sun had even fully risen. He took a deep, satisfied breath as he emerged from the tent, stretching and hiking up his trousers. Though there was an unseasonal chill in the air, there was no rain, only a gentle mist that curled around the trees.

A quiet shifting in the tent behind him made him turn. Azee was curled up, still asleep, on the spot where he had been sleeping, taking advantage of his warmth before it vanished into the early morning air.

Luke smiled as he looked back at Azee. He hadn't ordered her to sleep with him; she'd just crawled in, and he didn't argue. However, though it felt wonderful having her sleep next to him again, he didn't sleep well at all.

"Don't tell me you're feeling guilty," Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped over to the remains of last night's fire. "It may not have been how you planned... but you've got everything you wanted."

As he spoke, he reached up and touched the crystal embedded in his chest. "Just about everything."

Looking back at the tent, Luke let out a long sigh. "You're doing it for her, same as always."

As he spoke, Azee's eyes slid open and she looked up. "Good morning master."

"I'm not-" Luke paused and then sighed again. "Good morning. You sleep well?"

"Mhmmm."

"Good." Luke nodded. "Let's get moving, shall we?"

"As you wish, master."

After a quick and cold breakfast, both he and Azee were back on the road. The morning chill vanished as the sun peered over the horizon, the mist that curled through the trees vanishing like magic. Azee lay curled up on her side in the back of the cart, watching the scenery roll by without a word while Luke drove.

As noon approached, Luke and Azee passed through Bordenwood again. In a fallow field on the outskirts of town was a festival. Half a dozen large tents and an extensive collection of stalls selling wares or housing games had been set up amongst the tall grass and wildflowers. A large banner served as a front gateway, the words "Bordenwood Summer Festival" emblazoned in dark red letters.

The wonderful scent of chicken roasting wafting down the road from the festival made Luke sit up in his seat.

"Hey, Azee, you smell that?"

Azee perked up a little, her nose twitching. "Chicken?"

"Smells like it. Hungry?"

"Hmm... yes, I think so."

"Good, me too."

With a smile, Luke pulled the cart over to the side of the road. After tying Arthur to a tree, Luke extended a hand and helped Azee down from the cart.

"Come on."

Azee took Luke's hand and stepped down, following him into the fair.

The sights and sounds all around were a welcome distraction as Luke strode down the main path of the festival. Azee plodded along behind him, her gaze drifting to and fro, taking in the commotion. Children ran about, laughing and yelling, begging their parents for treats or chances at the various games. The townspeople all seemed in high spirits, talking, laughing, and drinking. Even the slaves amongst the crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves to an extent, though they kept their voices low and their heads down.

"Try your luck, win rare prizes!"

"Candied Apples, peppermint drops, taffy of all kinds, flavoured ice!"

"Step this way! Come on now, don't be shy! See exotic treasures from the far north!"

"Best slaves this side of New Burleigh! Auction is right this way! Canines, Lutrines, Vulpines and more!"

"Runes! Runes for all occasions! You, sir, you look like you need a mountainheart spark rune!"

Luke chuckled and shook his head. "No, thank you, sir."

Before long, Luke and Azee arrived at the section of the fair dedicated to food. A dozen stalls surrounded a large communal eating area, at the centre of which was a huge roasting fire, with an entire grazer carcass slowly turning on a spit. The scents of baked sweets, breads, soups and more filled the air, but the smell of roasted chicken was the most potent of all.

"Just wait here," Luke said, gesturing for Azee to stand near one of the tables. She wanted to protest, to stay close to Luke, but the collar's pull compelled her to obey.

As Azee stood and waited, her gaze drifted, her senses taking in all around her. The sights, smells, and sounds rolled over her like waves. She shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts, but her focus continued to elude her. There was simply too much; it felt like she was drowning, as if the chaos would sweep her away.

The only constant thing was Luke; he stood out from the chaos like a beacon. Despite a chorus of voices deep inside her screaming to resist, she found herself clinging desperately to his presence. Though he was only a few steps away, any distance from him felt wrong. She wanted to call out to him, to go to him, but he had ordered her to stay put; that was more important.

All of a sudden, she felt a powerful rush of anger cutting through the fog, obscuring her focus. Her mind fought against the pull of the collar, and for a moment, she was almost free. But as quickly as the rush had come, its power faded. In an instant, Azee's resistance was extinguished, and the collar's magic retook hold and pulled her back down.

It was better not to resist.

After a few minutes, Luke returned, a steaming box in his hands.

"Here," He smiled again, offering the box to her.

Hesitantly, Azee reached inside and pulled out a steaming leg of roasted chicken, various herbs still stuck to the crispy brown skin. Azee looked up at Luke, tilting her head.

Luke blinked in surprise at Azee's hesitation. "Aren't... you going to eat it?"

Azee looked back down at the chicken. "This is... mine?"

"Yes! You-" Luke paused, "You love chicken... don't you?"

Fuzzy memories, only half-remembered in the fog, flitted through her mind. "Oh... yes I... I think I do."

The smile drained from Luke's face. "You think? Azee..."

"So... I'm allowed."

"I... yes, Azee, you are allowed."

Hesitantly, she raised the chicken to her mouth and took a bite.

"So?" Luke looked at her expectantly. "Is it good? You like it."

Azee swallowed and nodded slowly. "Yes, master."

"Th-that's it?" Luke's smile faded. 'You... you love chicken... you used to go crazy for it."

Azee stared at Luke, tilting her head slightly, unable to understand what it was that he wanted.

As Azee stared at him, the horrible coldness in Luke's stomach returned.

"Come on..." Luke gestured for Azee to follow him. "We need to get back on the road."

"As you command, master."

***

Before Trip opened his eyes, he felt as if he were flying. He could feel movement, slow and ethereal, while he was wrapped in warm comfort. As his consciousness returned, Trip realised he was being carried.

"H-huh?"

Trip's eyes slid open. He was no longer in his room but in Mel's arms, being carried down a flight of stairs. His body still ached terribly, but the pain from his burns had faded to a dull throbbing.

Mel smiled down at him. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Wh-where are you taking me?" Trip paused, surprised to find no rope or chains around his wrists or ankles. He shifted his head, and there was still no collar around his neck. He was wrapped in a collection of warm quilts, softness enclosing him in a cloud of comfort.

'It... it wasn't all a dream...'

Mel reached the bottom of the stairs and carried him through an old sitting room, yellowed sheets draped over the furniture. The whole place smelled musty, and giant cobwebs swayed like tattered curtains in the room's corners.

"It's alright. I thought perhaps you could use some fresh air. It is a beautiful day outside."

"I-" Trip considered arguing but relented when he saw the golden light of the sun streaming through the large windows, his nose twitching as he detected the scent of flowers.

Gently as she was able, Mel carried Trip through the back door of the manor and out onto a small stone patio. A large trellis covered in flowering wisteria vines created a fragrant ceiling, while unkempt shrubs ringed the patio's perimeter. The once tidy flower garden lay in disarray, a tangled mess of unruly foliage. Weeds and wildflowers had long since claimed their territory, obscuring the pathways and swallowing the flowerbeds in a chaotic jumble of colour. Forgotten statues, effigies of the most famous hounds produced by the Hathaway family lay buried beneath the overgrowth. A set of stained white stone stairs led down to a yard, the grass long and scraggly. A pond, dug into the centre of the lawn and flanked by large willows, was covered in lily pads and weeds. In the distance, Trip could see a trio of large, low barns, their bright red paint cracked and peeling.

Instinctively, he burrowed his head against Mel's chest as she stepped out onto the patio, the sun's light stinging his eyes. Mel smiled down at him again, petting his head gently.

Striding over to an oversized wicker chair, Mel set Trip down upon a bed of soft, blue pillows.

"There you are, comfortable?"

Trip nodded. In truth, he wasn't sure he'd ever been so comfortable, and he had certainly never been so gently treated.

Mel pulled a second chair closer to Trip's and sat down. "Is there anything I can get for you? Water? Food?"

Cautiously, Trip nodded. "Water, please."

Mel got to her feet and walked off, leaving Trip alone on the patio. Slowly, he looked around, his ears twitching at the sounds of birds in the trees and insects buzzing about, and his nose at the scent of flowers. It felt like such a long time since he'd seen the light of the sun, and here it was, golden and gloriously warm. Dappled shadows danced across the stone as a light breeze shifted the vines above him.

But as he started to relax, a looming sense of dread washed over Trip. All of a sudden, the bushes around him felt as if they were closing in, filled with malicious eyes glaring at him, hunting him. His heart started to beat faster and faster. None of this could be real. It all had to be a trap!

Whimpering softly, Trip sank into the cushions, shaking all over. He wanted to run, but his legs hurt too much to move. He wanted to lash out, but his arms suddenly felt as if they were made of heavy, wet clay. All he could do was sink deeper into the chair, trying to hide amongst the blankets and cushions.

By the time Mel returned, Trip could barely catch a breath, and his whole body was quaking.

The glass of water fell to the ground, wholly forgotten as Mel rushed forward.

"Are you alright?"

"They're coming!" Trip gasped, his eyes wild. "They're going to come! They're going to take me back!"

Mel looked around, her hand quickly going to her gun. "The Order? Did you see them?"

Trip didn't answer; his words caught in his throat. Suddenly, Trip felt as if he were wearing a collar again, a collar that was steadily growing tighter and tighter. Frantically, he started clawing at his neck.

Unable to think of anything else, Mel stepped forward and swept Trip into her arms, holding him tight against her. "Shhhh.... It's okay, it's okay." She reached beneath the blankets and began gently, rhythmically tapping his chest.

"No! No, I won't! Please!"

"It's alright." She repeated again and again, keeping her voice as soft and soothing as she could. "It's okay, it's all going to be okay. You're safe here." At first he didn't seem to respond, instead only letting out a sort of strangled moan of anguish and fear.

Mel held Trip tight against her, continuing to tap his chest gently. "It's okay, baby. I promise. I'm here for you."

"I won't go back..." Trip looked up at Mel, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please... please, if this is a trick... just kill me... please, just kill me."

"It's not a trick." Mel stroked Trip's cheek. "I promise, this isn't a trick."

"I-I don't know anything about the rebels!"

"I know."

"Y-you s-swear?"

"I swear. You're safe."

With each passing moment, Trip's breathing and heartbeat began to slow. His wild and staring eyes seemed to return to focus, and his frantic clawing at his neck stopped.

"There you go." Mel smiled down at Trip, "Just breathe. It's all going to be alright."

"W-why? Why are y-you h-helping me?"

"Because you asked me to."

"B-but... I cried for help so many times, and no one came! They only kicked me and beat me!"

"I know sweetie. That won't happen again."

" I... I thought... I thought I'd die alone."

"I know." Mel had to fight back tears of her own as she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Trip's. "But I promise you, I will make sure you are safe."

"B-but the Order-"

"The Order can burn." Mel took a deep, shuddering breath. "It can burn for all I care. I'm not with them, not anymore, not after what they've done to you, and to Coryn... and Lord knows how many others..."

A single tear ran down her cheek as she stroked Trip's face. "I'm so sorry, little one... I'm so sorry for what happened to you. I'm so sorry I helped them hurt you... I... I really thought I was helping to protect people. I knew the Order could be cruel but... but what they did to you..."

"They're evil." Trip murmured.

"Yes... yes, they are. I was wrong to help them. And I promise I'll keep you safe from them."

"I don't know what to do," Trip moaned. "I want to hate you... Why are you being so kind to me..."

"I don't know." Mel's breath shuddered as she held Trip close. "I don't know why you... Maybe it's because you remind me of Rory, maybe because of some of the things you said... All I know is that... when we spoke... I felt like I needed to help you. Not just for your sake, but also for mine."

A whirlwind of feelings tore through Trip. Part of him still yearned to lash out, to bite and scratch, to take some kind of revenge against this human who had condemned him to so much pain. But the more she held him tight, the more he felt safe and secure. He felt as if pieces of him were tearing loose, his life experience clashing against what he desperately wanted to be true.

"What's going to happen to me?" he asked at last.

"You can stay here, with me, while you heal. After that.... After that, I don't know. But I promise, you will never be a slave again."

"I want to trust you, but... but I..."

"It's okay." Mel nodded, petting Trip's head and gently scratching him between the ears. "It will take time, I know that. I don't expect you to forgive me..."

Trip nodded slowly, relaxing in Mel's arms and nuzzling against her. A sense of great peace and comfort washed through him, his fear breaking apart and flowing from him like ice upon a thawing river.

"I want to," he mumbled. "I want to forgive you..."

"We can worry about that later. For now, just rest."

"I've never been held like this..." He purred softly. "It's nice."

"I know you've had a hard life." Mel squeezed him gently. "But things will be alright now. I'll take care of you."

"W-what about the others?"

"What others?"

"The other slaves here? What about them? You called them your friends."

"You really are like Rory... All your pain and fear... and you still care about others." Mel hesitated for a moment before sighing and nodding at Trip. "Of course, I'll ensure they are cared for as well."

***

From inside the door leading to the Patio, Coryn and Broom stood and listened, Broom's son Lite leaning against his father's leg.

"I never thought I'd see the day." Broom murmured as he stared out at the Patio. "Master Hathaway has changed quite a bit."

Coryn nodded. "She always had this kindness in her heart. It's just that it is finally blooming. That and she finally sees the Order for what they truly are."

Broom glanced at Coryn. "Surprised to hear you say that, 'specially with how she used to treat you."

"She was young and foolish."

"She was cruel."

Coryn raised an eyebrow. "Maybe she was, but no longer. Surely you aren't complaining about her change."

"No. But her change could have come sooner." Broom sighed and ran his hand over Lite's hair. "Then maybe Lite would be able to remember his mother."

"Master Hathaway had nothing to do with May's death." Coryn snapped, his tone startling both Lite and Broom. "She grieved for her, same as you."

"She grieved for a lost tool. I grieved for a mate."

"That's not fair, and you know it. She did everything she could to save May."

"Well, she failed!"

Coryn paused for a moment, surprised by the venom and pain in Broom's voice. "Broom..."

Broom sighed heavily. "My... apologies. It is... not fair of me to be jealous of the new boy. I just... I wish she had come to her realisation sooner. I wish it had been May or Lite that had inspired this new kindness in her rather than a stranger."

"I understand." Coryn placed a hand on Broom's shoulder, placing his other hand on Lite's head. "I'm not asking you to forgive her for everything; Tyrant knows I haven't... But if she truly is changing..."

"Then we should help her." With another heavy sigh, Broom managed a smile. "I agree. Who knows, if we play our hand right, we may even be able to get freedom out of all this."

Coryn paused for a moment before nodding. "Yes... freedom..."

***

Inside the gloomy confines of the Old Crow, a handful of patrons sat around nursing their drinks. The low murmur of hushed conversation and the occasional clink of glasses punctuated the stillness.

"Still can't believe Sally would hit ya like that." Comb chuckled, patting Lee on the back."Then again, guess ya can't expect a woman to fight fair."

"It's all such houndshit," Sinclair growled, taking another swig from his bottle.

"Tell me about it." Lee rubbed the back of his head. His face was still badly bruised, and now sported a number of cuts from falling face first after Sally's attack. "That damn lapine has the gall to fight me, and I'm the one who ends up face down in the dirt."

"Shoulda just strung the lapine whore back up." Sinclair agreed. "Instead, she's out in the fields again, like nothin' happened. Same with that damned feline. An' instead of being told to hit the road, Sally gets promoted!"

Lee winced as he took a drink. "An' I been told if I set foot on the property again, they'll shoot me. Otherwise, I'd head back there and gut the little long-eared slut and get it over with, and to damnation with whatever Sneider thinks."

"If Snieder ain't careful, he's gonna have a real problem." Comb leaned back in his chair, scowling at the table.

Sinclair nodded. "Lord knows we already got a real problem. Productivity is down, pelts are starting to talk back, and there ain't been so much as a whisper from the Windhill brat."

The Old Crow's front door swung open as the three men continued talking. Across the scuffed and worn threshold stepped Dallet. His usually proud swagger was gone, his uniform marred by dirt and grime. His normally immaculately cared-for hair was in disarray, and he smelled strongly of liquor.

"What can I do fer ya?" Charlie called out.

"Whiskey," Dallet replied, stumbling up to the bar.

Charlie nodded, pulling a bottle from the shelf behind him. As he started to pour the amber liquid into a glass, Dallet reached out and snatched the whole bottle from his hand.

Charlie paused for a moment as Dallet raised the bottle to his lips and took a deep swig. "You know, you are going to have to pay for that."

"Just put it on my tab." Dallet replied, setting the bottle down with a loud clunk.

"You ain't got a tab here, sir."

Dallet raised his head and snarled. "Then start one, before I declare this place in violation of canon and have it torn down one board at a time."

"Looks like agent Baskerville has seen better days," Sinclair muttered, stealing a glance over his shoulder at the drunken agent.

Lee also stole a glance at Dallet. "Wasn't he blamed for the fire that destroyed the Chapter house?"

"Not officially, but that's the way everyone is talkin'. I heard that the bishop of all Burleigh County was coming here to honour him, and to witness the execution of the rebel." Sinclair took another swig of his drink. "Guess that's not happening now."

As he watched Dallet, a smile crept across Comb's face. "I think... this is an opportunity."

Standing from his chair, Comb made his way towards the bar, taking a place beside Dallet.

"Afternoon, sir."

Dallet glanced over at Comb. "What do you want?"

"Figure I want the same thing you do."

"Get to your point, or I'll have you strung up as a traitor."

Only the slightest twitch of the cheek belied Comb's irritation. "Put simple... I think there is an opportunity that might benefit us both."

"And what, pray tell, could you possibly offer me?"

"Luke Windhill."

Dallet stiffened a little and turned to Comb. "Windhill?"

"The Windhill blood has thinned. The 'young master' is a pelt sympathiser, and his ranch is run by a bunch of pelt lovers too. I know, I used to work there."

"Used to?" Dallet scoffed and turned back to his bottle. "So you're just a disgruntled ex-employee, tossed out on your ass."

"I was 'tossed out' fer telling the truth of it!" Comb snapped. "The Windhill brat went galavanting off with his pelt fuck toy to Lord knows where. Before he left he ordered us to stop breeding the pelts, and to 'take it easy' on them!"

Dallet paused for a moment before speaking. "None of that is proof of anything."

"It's proof he ain't worthy to hold the Order's trust."

Dallet leaned back a little, his brow furrowed in thought. When he spoke, his voice was low, his words carefully chosen. "You're suggesting I take down the Windhill family?"

"Jus' think of it." Comb leaned closer. "Rooting out a traitor amongst the Order's most trusted citizens. That's gotta be worth far more to the bishop than some nameless lapine rebel."

"You might be right." Dallet tapped his fingers against his bottle as his eyes narrowed. "Question is, how do you profit by this."

"Figure I profit by making certain our fair nation is kept safe from traitors and degenerates." A quickly widening smile crossed Comb's face. "That... an' I was thinking, once Windhill is dealt with, the ranch would find itself needing a new owner."

"And you figure that would be you?"

"Don't figure you'll have much use fer the ranch once you deliver Windhill's head to the Order, along with that family fortune of his."

"For a good citizen like you, I would have thought that patriotism alone would be enough for you to act." A smile crossed Dallet's lips. "Then again, patriotism without reward is such a one-sided affair."

Taking hold of Dallet's bottle, Comb poured both himself and Dallet a drink. "Sounds like we have an understanding."

***

"Everything will be alright, you'll see."

Azee blinked and looked up at Luke. "Hmm?"

The two sat beside a campfire, Arthur slumbering beside the cart a short distance away. Azee was huddled up against Luke, her tail curled around his waist. The rest of the world felt cold and dangerous, but Luke... Luke felt right. From time to time, she felt a strange flicker of anger, but she did her best to ignore it.

"Everything will be alright," Luke repeated, staring into the coals as he petted Azee's hair. "I mean... I know this... this isn't the way you want it. But you'll see that this is all for your own good. You know that, right? I want you to be happy... but I need you to be safe. There's nothing more important to me than that... Even... Even your freedom."

Azee nodded, not really understanding what Luke was saying. "Okay."

"I just... I need you to understand that... That I'm not trying to hurt you..."

"I know."

Luke looked up sharply. "You do?"

"I know you aren't trying to hurt me, master."

"Aren't trying to... that's a far cry from actually not hurting you." With a frustrated growl, Luke put his head in his hands.

Azee sensed Luke's frustration and tilted her head. "Master?"

"I... I'm fine." Lowering his hands Luke sighed heavily, pulling Azee closer to him. "Just... thinking."

"Okay."

Luke picked up another piece of wood and tossed it onto the fire.

"Azee..."

"Hmm?"

"What is it that you want?"

Azee tilted her head again. "Master?"

"What is it that you want? What do you really want? I... I need to know."

Azee opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked at her hands, unable to speak.

'What am I doing?! What am I thinking?' Luke felt a powerful frustration rising up inside him. He felt as if he were about to explode as his hands clenched and unclenched. 'This is right; this is how it should be! She can't protect herself... Only I can protect her! She needs me! This is the role I'm supposed to fill!'

Finally, Azee replied. "I... want what you want, Master."

"I... Azee... please don't call me that."

"But Master-"

"Stop calling me Master!" Luke exploded. "I have never, in my life, wanted you to call me that!"

Immediately, Azee shrunk back, whining in fear.

Luke wanted to scream in frustration as he leapt to his feet, pacing back and forth. "I just want things to go back to the way they were! I don't want to be your master; I don't want to force you to do anything! I just... I want you to choose me! It's all I've ever really wanted..."

"O-okay Ma- Luke..."

"I just..." Luke's anger quickly drained away, leaving him feeling utterly empty.

"I want you to love me, dammit... as much as I love you."

For a long moment, Luke stared at Azee. The fear he saw in her expression carved a more profound pain into his chest than the rune ever had. At that moment, staring at his reflection in the dulled, frightened eyes of the woman he loved, there was no place in the universe that Luke would have liked less to have been.

"What have I done..."

As those words passed his lips, Luke felt like he was falling, sinking into a chasm of dark water. The words of Eloise, Azee, Chess, his father, his mother, and more seemed to attack him from all sides, tearing at him like a furious school of jawfish.

"You can't trust them! They're no better than animals."

"The pelts need us; they need us to protect them."

"So you put a collar on my neck and thought that would solve the problem! "

"How can you not understand what it is that Azee wants from you, Windhill? You can't actually be that thick!"

"You don't see a slave when you look at me, despite what you've been taught. You don't see a slave in the Shiyan girl either. At least, not in the way that most might think of a slave."

"She'll never love you the way a real person would!"

Then, above the cacophony, Azee's voice rang out the clearest of all.

"You're so wrapped up in being the 'master' that you don't get why we're here! You're never going to change."

Luke's entire body shook as he slowly raised a hand and beckoned towards Azee. "Please... come here."

Hesitantly, she got to her feet and stepped forward, her shoulders hunched and ears pressed flat.

Taking Azee's hands in his, Luke took a deep breath. "I want you to listen... to hear what I have to say..."

"O-okay."

With a heavy sigh, Luke pulled Azee against him. "I love you Azee. I always have, I always will. Everything I have done... the good and the bad, I really did try and make you happy. And... and I am sorry."

Before Azee could speak, Luke leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. As he did, Luke reached up and unclasped the collar from around Azee's neck.

Azee gasped and stumbled, her legs quacking as the collar's influence flickered and died. Luke kept a hold of her as her entire body shivered.

"It's okay." Luke held Azee and stroked her back. "It's okay, Azee, just breathe."

Finally, after a few long moments, Azee's breathing became steady again, and her shaking stopped.

"Azee?" Luke brushed the hair away from her eyes, locking his gaze with hers. "Are you alright?"

"I..." Azee shook her head, trying to clear the last of the fuzziness.

With a deep sigh, Luke released his grip on Azee and stepped back. He paused for a moment, looking down at the collar, before turning and tossing it into the fire. The leather hissed and curled while the crystal let out a loud pop and broke into pieces.

"Azee... I'm-"

"No!" Azee looked up at Luke, her eyes blazing with rage. "D-don't you dare... don't you dare speak to me!"

Luke fell silent, watching as Azee started to pace back and forth.

"Y-you... you let me... You let me... Wear the damn thing... for days."

"I know."

"You... you tried to take me back!"

"I did."

"You.... You... I can't believe you! You awful, horrible, evil, fucking bastard! You horrid fucking... I can't believe you! I can't believe what you let him do to me! You- You..." Azee paused and looked up at Luke. "You... took it off me."

"I-"

Azee held up a hand. "No, shut up!" She stalked forward, teeth bared and ears pressed flat as she raised a fist, panting hard. "You son of a bastard! Do you... you have any idea... what it felt like?!"

Luke shook his head, standing his ground as Azee approached. "No."

Azee stopped in front of Luke, her whole body shaking again, this time with rage. She raised her fist, her claws digging into her palm as she drew her arm back, aiming at Luke's face. "I could hear everything, feel everything! I was screaming to get out!"

Luke's head slumped in shame.

"You... You bastard! You ass! You...traitor! You.... You...." Azee took a shuddering breath as she slowly lowered her fist. "You had everything you wanted. You could have dragged me home, erased my memory, and yet... You took it off me; why?"

"I should have never let Eddie put it on you."

"You're damn straight!" Azee barked. "But I want to know why you took it off! Did you think I'd be so grateful I'd fall back in your arms? Or that I'd suddenly understand you?! That I'd appreciate what you've done for me?!"

Luke shook his head. "No."

"Then why!"

"Because you were right, and I was wrong."

Azee's mouth fell open. "You... what?"

"Because you were right about me, us, everything." Luke looked away, his shoulders hunched and his eyes filling with tears. "I thought that... because I wanted you to be safe, it made what I did... right. And that collar... It made you safer... But it took everything that I love about you away."

Azee wanted to scream, beat her fists against Luke, and berate him some more, but the yawning chasm of regret she could feel through the link made her pause.

"I'm so sorry Azee..." Luke's shoulders shook as he started to sob between breaths. "For everything... for all of it... I'm a fool..."

"I..." Azee's breath shuddered. "How... how can you-"

"I took the collar off you because even though I know it means I've lost you forever... I couldn't take everything away from you, not again." Luke dropped to his knees, holding his head in his hands. "I'm sorry Azee... I'm so sorry..."

Azee stood in stunned silence, staring down at Luke. Slowly, her shoulders hunched and her lower lip began to tremble. "You idiot... you stupid idiot..."

With a gasping sob, she dropped to her knees as well, reaching out and putting her hands on Luke's shoulders, pressing her forehead against his. "You are such a fool..."

"I know..." Luke nodded. "I know..."

"I don't forgive you... but... but thank you." Azee pulled Luke into a hug, which he quickly returned. "Thank you for setting me free..."

The two stayed like that for a long time, holding one another and sobbing quietly in the firelight.

END OF CHAPTER 44

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