LOGINJuneI am propped up against a stack of pillows, still getting used to being back in my own body, when Caleb walks in with a bowl in his hands. The scent reaches me before he even gets close. Something warm. Simple. Comforting in a way I do not have a name for.He pulls a chair closer to the bed and sits down without saying much. His focus is on the bowl, on making sure it is not too hot, on doing something as ordinary as bringing me food like it matters more than anything else right now.I watch him quietly.There is something different about this moment. No urgency. No danger. Just this quiet space where it is only the two of us.He lifts the spoon, dips it into the soup, and pauses. Then he brings it closer to his lips and blows on it gently, testing the heat before turning it toward me.“Careful,” he murmurs. “It’s still warm.”For a second, I do not move.I just look at him.At the way he holds the spoon like this is something he has decided to do, not something he feels forced i
JuneOne minute I am standing there, watching Hayden and his men, every muscle in my body tight and ready, and the next everything slips.It is not gradual. It is not something I can fight.It just… goes dark.Something inside me pulls back, like I am being gently but firmly pushed away from the front of my own mind. My thoughts scatter, my control loosens, and then I am no longer the one holding the reins.I am still here.Just differently.Earlier, I didn't understand what happened to me... but now, when I am aware of my wolf... I can feel what happens. I cannot see what is happening out there, not clearly, but I can feel it. I can feel her.My wolf.She rises without hesitation, without doubt, filling the place I left behind like she was always meant to. There is no confusion in her, no second guessing. Only purpose.And I know what that purpose is.Hayden.His men.The threat.A small part of me tries to reach forward, tries to hold onto something, to stay connected, but it slips
CalebIf Sophia were here… the thought comes uninvited, slipping into my mind and refusing to leave. I would have asked her to help June. I know what she can do. I have seen it. The way she takes pain, the way she pulls it out like it is nothing but a burden she can carry.I drag a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.It is selfish. I know it is. Wanting someone else to take June’s pain, to fix this when I cannot. But I do not know what else to do. Sitting here, watching her lie still while time keeps moving forward, is slowly eating away at me.The doctor checked her again not long ago. Same results. The wound is healing now. Slowly, but it is healing. Everything in her body is doing what it should.Except for one thing.She has not woken up.I sit there for a long moment, staring at her, trying to find any sign that something is changing. A twitch. A shift. Anything.There is nothing.The doctor did not look concerned. That is the part that frustrates me the most. He stood there, cal
Caleb The doctor finishes his examination and steps back from the bed, his expression thoughtful in a way that does nothing to ease the tension sitting in my chest. I watch him closely, searching his face for something concrete. Something I can hold onto. “There is nothing structurally wrong,” he says after a moment, his voice calm, clinical. “She should be healing.” Should be. The words echo in my head long after he says them. Because she is not. I shift my gaze back to June, lying motionless against the white sheets. The bandage wrapped around her side is clean now, the bleeding stopped after the silver bullet was removed. Everything looks as it should on the surface. But it is not. Her healing is slow. Too slow. Slower than I have ever seen from any wolf. Slower than it should be, even for a human. And that thought alone is enough to make something restless stir inside me. My wolf does not like this. Neither do I. The doctor gives a few final instructions before leaving t
Caleb Her weight settles against me, warm and real, and for a second everything else fades. The noise, the people, the bodies scattered across the yard. None of it matters. It is just her in my arms, her head tipped back against my shoulder, her breath shallow against my neck. “June,” I murmur, but there is no response. I adjust my grip and lift her fully, cradling her against my chest. Her arm hangs loose at her side, her fingers still stained red. My jaw tightens as I look down at her, taking in every detail like I need to memorize that she is still here. Then I see it. The wound on her side. My frown deepens instantly as I shift her slightly, careful not to jostle her too much. The fabric near her ribs is soaked through, darker than it should be. That wound should have been closing by now. It should have at least started to heal. But it has not. It is still raw. Still bleeding. Something cold slides into my chest. Footsteps approach, quick and familiar. Jake, Lucas, and
Caleb June narrows her eyes, locking her gaze onto Hayden with an intensity that seems to vibrate the very air between them. When she speaks, her voice is nothing like the one I have grown to know. It is rougher and hoarse, a jagged sound. It is the sound of a predator finally letting go of the leash. "No body can own us," she says, the words coming out as a low rumble that feels like it originates from a place deep beneath her ribs. "We don’t fight for anyone." I can see the impact of her words hitting him like a physical strike. Hayden’s eyes slightly widen, and for a split second, the mask of arrogance he wears begins to crumble. The fear he has been trying so hard to hide seeps through his gaze, flickering there like a dying flame, yet he still tries to pull himself together and look brave. He swallows hard, his throat working as he tries to find his voice. "You can’t get away from killings everyone," he stammers, though the threat lacks any real weight. "You have to pay the
AnastasiaCaleb’s whole body changes as we move through the trees. His shoulders are tense, every step calculated. There’s this no-nonsense vibe rolling off him that feels totally different from the usual sarcasm and eye-rolls I get from him. It’s weird seeing him like this. Focused. Sharp. Like a
AnastasiaThe front door of the packhouse creaks open, and for a second, everything gets real quiet.A man steps out first. He’s tall and built like someone who doesn’t have to say much to get people moving. There’s this pull around him, like the air shifts when he walks. He starts coming down the
JakeThe moment my paws touch the earth, everything sharpens. My focus narrows, instincts taking over as I charge straight for the rogue closest to Anastasia. He doesn’t hear me. Doesn’t see me. Not until my weight slams into him.Teeth meet flesh. His howl is cut short as I rip through his throat,
JakeThe scent of home-cooked food lingers in the air, the moment I step into the packhouse. Warmth surrounds me... not just from the crackling fireplace but from the people inside. "Jake, look at you," a voice calls out, full of warmth and nostalgia. "All grown up, young wolf."Before I can turn,







