DareI take down another witch—a big guy standing over a dead wolf. I’m not pretty about it. He’s standing over a dead shifter, and as far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t deserve to die with his head attached.It seems like an eternity passes as I race through the chaos, but I know it’s only a few moments. There’s magic everywhere, and smoke hangs thick and heavy, obscuring my vision. The gunshots are fewer now, whether that’s because the shifters carrying the weapons are dead, or because they can’t see well enough to take a shot, I don’t know. There are witches all around me, but I’ve lost sight of the wolves.Cleo was right about one thing—if it were just the East Pack against the coven, the witches would decimate Archer’s people.As it is, we’ve given them a false sense of victory. Enough to hopefully make them cocky and stupid.I barrel into another male witch’s legs and throw the fucker off his feet. Before I can dart in and finish him off, blinding pain slams into my haunches, and
SableThe sound of something landing heavily on the ground behind me draws my attention away from the fight I’m locked in. I shove another blast of magic at the witch who’s attacking me, making her stumble back as I glance over my shoulder.My heart lodges in my throat, making it impossible to breathe through the shock and grief.“No!”Fuck. No.Malcolm isn’t even supposed to be here. All three packs voted for him to remain hidden and safe, protected in his own house while we faced the witches.But like every shifter I love, the old alpha is stubborn. He obviously couldn’t sit the battle out.Black smoke crackles over his body as the wolf on the ground turns back to Malcolm’s human form. His pale, wan face is slack, and magic has twisted tendrils of smoke around his too-thin body.He’s hurt. Maybe even dead.And it’s my fault.“Dad!” Archer appears out of the thick smoke in human form, bare feet slapping the ground as he rushes to his father’s side.His face is anguished as he bends do
Sable“Sable!”Dare’s voice is almost as hoarse as mine was earlier as he cries out, running toward me. I barely have time to look up before I’m swept into his arms, pressed against him in a bone-crushing hug.I wrap my arms around him too, clinging tightly to him as I breathe in the scent of blood and smoke that clings to his skin.“You’re alive,” I gasp. “The others?”My heart stutters as I ask the question. I lost track of everyone when the magic overtook me, and as I remember the strange sensation of being nothing but a conduit for the power, a shudder runs down my spine.Did I kill any wolves in my attack? Did I hurt any of my mates? I wasn’t even throwing spells, just pure, raw magic. I had no control.“They’re okay.” I feel him nod, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on me at all. “What the hell was that?” he rasps.“Magic.” I swallow, tears pricking my eyes. “I don’t know what happened.”“It’s okay.” I can hear the strain in his voice. He still hates witch magic, and I almost can’
ArcherI never imagined that one day, the beautiful rolling meadows that surround my home would become a graveyard. The resting place for dozens of shifters from every surviving pack in the area. I never dreamed that one day, West Pack bodies would be laid to rest beside those wolves lost in the North Pack.Lost to my pack.“I think that’s deep enough,” Ridge grunts, shoving the sharp edge of his shovel into the pile of dirt we’ve been working on for the last hour. “Don’t you?”He directs this last question to me, and I tighten my grip on my own shovel, my fingers slippery with sweat. The sun glares down with a heat and a brightness that seems out of place on such a scene of death and sadness. I glance over at my father’s body. He’s wrapped in a funeral shroud Hope made him.She’s been with him for years, and she stands watch over him even now, tears coursing down her cheeks as she stares out over the growing field of graves. The sight of her stark, raw emotion makes my own throat clo
ArcherIt’s not that I didn’t hear him, but I can’t think of anything else to say.“Malcolm was a good man,” Trystan says, looking slightly uncomfortable in his own skin. Open displays of emotion still aren’t really his thing. “At first, I thought it was fucked how you, like, tag-teamed the whole alpha thing. But I didn’t know, you know? I didn’t know better. But I see why you did it now.”I jab at the button to set the coffee brewing, then turn to face him fully. “You do?”“Yeah. The pack needed Malcolm. Hell, they were lucky to have him. Fucking great leader. Really.” He pauses and brushes a hand back over his hair, then blows out a breath before he catches my gaze. “They’re lucky to have you too, man. And you’re going to be a great alpha even without him here to lead with you. You were great together. But you’ll be great alone too.”I catch sight of Sable over his shoulder, her blue eyes trained on us. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, though she looks like she’s on the edge of h
SableI thought I was just tired.I mean, we did just fight a war. I used magic to hurt people—to help kill them—and that’s not something that’s easy to bounce back from.It’s not that I regret my actions. They were necessary for the good of my packs. But two months ago, I was a naive teenager living in an abusive home with an “uncle” who barely let me leave the house.Now? I’m sleeping with wolves. Killing witches.It could get to a girl.And if I slept last night at all, it was scattered and light and full of nightmares about a woman with long red nails like claws. So the fact that I was dizzy and hot, swaying on my feet like I drank a heavy pour of whiskey before coming here, didn’t really strike me as that odd. I just thought I needed this meeting to wrap up so I could go back to Archer’s house and sleep for a week.But then the dizzy, hot feeling morphed into something even stranger. A tickling at my senses, like static between my ears. I shook my head, trying to chase away the f
SableI stand with my face turned toward the early morning sun as it shines over the forest bordering the northern edge of East Pack lands.Somewhere nearby, perched in the trees, several chickadees whistle at each other and then flutter around like tiny wisps of light, while deeper in the forest, I can sense a herd of deer passing quietly—all of them aware that a couple hundred predators lie sleeping just beyond their woodland protection.The scene should be idyllic. I should be floating on cloud nine right now—I’m in love with four beautiful men, with a home to call my own and this glorious morning all around me. The sky is on fire, an aurora of pinks and golds being chased away slowly as the light blue overtakes them. My sharpened shifter senses mean I can smell everything, hear everything, even feel the sun’s heat on my skin with more intensity, feel the cool breeze off the mountains like a lover’s caress. Maybe if I could stumble through life wearing rose-colored glasses, I’d be i
ArcherMy dad’s entire house is as orderly as his life leading the pack was, and it stings like holy hell, because it reminds me how short I’m going to fall against his legacy.I came into Dad’s house thinking I’d have to split things up and organize. Pack documents here, personal documents there, knick-knacks and old clothes, all the little things that make up a person’s life. But as it turns out, my father must have been preparing for his absence a helluva lot longer than I did. An entire filing cabinet is already neatly alphabetized and labeled with my name in Dad’s crisp, neat handwriting.I stare down at the label for so long that my feet might as well have become rooted to the hardwood floor. I wonder when he wrote it, since his hands were shaking so much in the end that I can’t imagine the handwriting would have come out so clean.Did he do this right after the diagnosis? Before the illness even began to take him from me? I guess it isn’t that big of a leap to think he’d prepar