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from The Unforgiven (First Draft.) by Leila Miller

Chapter 9

Sera sat across from Melas. A pleasant smile pasted on her face. The meeting wasn’t going exactly as she had plan. Melas hadn’t thrown out the welcome wagon, like she was expecting.

“So you were careless.” His voice rumbled through the room. “You are becoming a trial.” 

She didn’t let the smile fade, though all amusement had fled. She didn’t let him see how his words irritate her. She had come to far and risked too much. 

“No.” She disagreed. “From the first attack they were suspicious. Who knew they were smart enough to put it all together so quickly.” She couldn’t help but think how stupid Melas was. If she was in charge she wouldn’t be rushing through so quickly. But Melas was impatient. And his impatience was costing them.

“Hmmm. Perhaps.” He said. Perhaps nothing, you half-wit, she thought. “You will of course stay here in the Underworld.” 

“Of course. It would be dangerous to keep traveling back and forth.” She agreed. “I have found the last of the mortals the healers are hiding. We just need to infiltrate their dreams, turn them into nightmares, and they will be ours.” She had worked out the plan on the way here. 

“You think it will be that easy.” Melas stood and went to get a drink from the bar. “My brother is not that easily fooled.” She heard the ice clink in the glasses, first one, then the other. A deliberate move, he knew she hated liquor. “Morpheus has kept me under his thumb and in this forsaken place since the war.” He turned with a nasty smile, bringing her the drink. She swallowed her distaste and took the glass with a smile. “But no more. To us.” 

She kept he...







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