HildaCerelia, Soren, Arlo and I are seated around the kitchen table, talking in whispers. “We need to make sure we pinpoint Malcolm’s position and set someone to stay close until we’ve surrounded him,” Arlo says.Scarlett’s playing with her toys in the lounge and I didn’t think she could even hear us when she speak up in a soft, almost sing-song voice. “He doesn’t care about money. Or even winning. He just likes watching.”The room goes silent. A cold prickle runs down my spine. Around me, the others exchange glances, their postures shifting. No one speaks, but I can feel the unease settling like a thick fog.I try to keep my body loose and relaxed as I walk over to Scarlett, crouching beside her and gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear. Her small fingers clutch one of her stuffed animals, a well-loved unicorn with matted fur.“What do you mean, sweetheart?” I ask softly. “Who likes to watch what?” She shrugs, not looking up. “The man you’re talking about. He likes seeing what
Arlo Malcolm is nowhere to be found. The place where he was last seen is nothing but empty air and crushed leaves. No scent of him lingers, no footprints mark the dirt. It’s as if he vanished into thin air.But we all know better. He won’t leave, not until he’s gotten what he wants. Whatever the hell that is. Right now, he’s making sure we know that he’s toying with us.I crouch, fingers skimming the disturbed earth. Soren is beside me, his expression grim, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. “Nothing,” he mutters. “No trace of him.”That alone makes my skin crawl. There should be something. Sweat, old food, even the faintest whiff of adrenaline. But the air is clean, unnaturally so.“We keep moving,” I decide. “There’s only one direction he could’ve gone.” He would have been spotted if he came closer to the pack house and the ravine is too steep and crumbly to traverse.We head deeper into the woods, our footfalls silent on the damp leaves. The deeper we go, the worse the growing
NixieThe early morning mist clings to the trees, swirling in ghostly tendrils as I walk. The world is quiet, wrapped in the hush of dawn. Usually this is my favorite time of day, but something about the silence unsettles me this morning.It’s too still. The usual sounds of small creatures rustling in the underbrush are absent.A shiver traces down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Some ancient instinct whispers a warning, telling me to slow down.I halt, scanning the treeline. My breath puffs out in a slow, measured exhale. At first, there’s nothing. Just shadows between the trunks and the occasional shift of mist as a breeze stirs it through the air.I squint suddenly, picking up a different kind of movement in the distance. Something shifts, causing a disturbance in the underbrush, subtle but deliberate. It causes the slightest quiver of leaves. If I hadn’t been watching, I wouldn’t have noticed. But I am watching.My pulse hammers. Someone, or something,
HildaMy heart beats in rhythm with my steps, steady and focused as we stalk through the undergrowth.Arlo is by my side and our warriors move in formation behind us, their wolf forms slinking through the trees like shadows.I strain my ears, my nose working to pick up any trace of human scent, but there’s nothing. All I smell is damp earth and the familiar scent of my own people. The air seems even cleaner and crisper than usual. How the hell are they doing this?Cerelia stays at the back of the pack, waiting for her opportunity to help us. I’m comforted knowing she’s here and even more so that Soren will make sure she runs if anything goes wrong.She’s ready to step forward and cast her spell the moment we find the humans. If we find them. So far there’s been very little to go on. Without Soren’s eagle eye, we wouldn’t even know whether we were heading in the right direction.I grit my teeth. No. We will find them. I won’t lose confidence. We’re faster, stronger and have more to los
Arlo I wake up to the jolt of a moving vehicle. My body feels heavy, my limbs leaden and my mind is sluggish, but it fights to claws its’ way to awareness.The last thing I remember is the sting of the dart, the explosion of smoke, Hilda’s scream in my mind cutting through the chaos before the world faded.Thank the heavens I took the tranquilizer meant for her. She’s safe. I’m the only one trapped in this moving vehicle and that’s enough to bring me peace for a few moment.The thought that she’s unharmed and with our pack keeps me breathing right now. Even as I lie here, pinned by the weight of whatever the bastards drugged me with, my mind screams to get back to them. To Hilda and both our cubs.She won’t let the fact that she’s pregnant hold her back. She’s not going to stay where it’s safe. I know her too well. She’s going to come for me and kill everyone who dares to stand between me and her.She won’t send a rescue party, she’ll lead it herself, because we protect each other. I
Hilda Arlo is gone. The moment I lost sight of him, something inside me cracked, splintering like glass under too much pressure. But I can’t let it break me.He’s still out there and I will keep my broken pieces together until he’s home. The bond between us is faint but unyielding, a whisper in the back of my mind that tells me he’s alive. Hurting and enraged, but alive.My stomach churns as I feel the echoes of his suffering, the distant pulse of his agony. The pain is foreign yet intimate, his torment bleeding into me through the mate bond. I swallow it down, forcing my expression into something unshakable. The pack needs their Luna to bring back their Alpha.I gather them in the war room, standing at the head of the long wooden table. Not having Arlo by my side feels so foreign and wrong.The tension is thick and I force back my pain so I can be the leader they deserve right now. They’re all here, ready and eager to help. Soren, Cerelia, Percy, Nixie, all of our warriors. All wa
ArloAgony pulls me from the darkness. Pain coils through my body, sharp and relentless, as if my veins are lined with barbed wire. My muscles are sluggish, refusing to obey as I try to move.The drug is still in my system, keeping me weak, dulled and vulnerable. I don’t need to see to know where I am.Steel bars surround me, thick and reinforced. The scent of rust and blood is heavy in the air. I know exactly where I am. Hell. And the devil is here, waiting for me to open my eyes.Footsteps echo off the concrete floor and a shadow passes outside the cage, circling me like a vulture waiting to pick over the carcass of something already dying.“Not who I wanted,” Malcolm muses, his voice smooth and casual. The bastard doesn’t even really sound disappointed, though I can see it in the way his lip curls just slightly, the faintest hint of irritation beneath the smirk, “But I suppose you’ll do for now.”“Next time I’ll do the shooting myself and make sure I get my prize. You won’t be aro
PercyThe city hums with life, humans hurrying through the streets, wrapped in their own worries, never once considering that wolves stalk among them. Which makes my job so much easier. They also have no reason to fear us, since we’ve never actually hunted humans.Nixie moves beside me, her steps careful, gaze sharp as she studies every car that passes, every figure that lingers too long.She’s more comfortable in the wild, where the air is fresh and the only noise comes from insects, animals and us. Here, the air is thick with gasoline and rot. The smell of so many people pressed together makes tracking damn near impossible.But impossible isn’t in my vocabulary. I have no idea how some of us manage to live in the city. The constant assault on my senses is disorienting.The bastards didn’t even try to cover their tracks this time. The tire marks leading into the city were fresh, and the scent of Arlo’s scent clings to Malcolm’s men like oil on water.We followed the trail for miles
AshThe moment Cerelia finishes weaving the last of the spell, I feel the tension ease from the air.The humans stand frozen, still blank-faced and motionless, but something subtle has shifted in the atmosphere around them. Like a storm passing just overhead without breaking.Hilda rises from where she’s crouched by a line of confiscated weapons, brushing her hands clean against her pants. She strides toward Tara and me, her expression grim but steady.“It’s your call,” she says, her voice pitched low enough that only we can hear. “You have to decide whether Redgrave goes back to the city or if we deal with her here.”Tara turns to me immediately, her blue eyes fierce and sure. “Ash, it’s only fair that you get to choose,” she says. “I’ll stand by whatever you decide. You’re the one who suffered the most because of her.”For a moment, the world feels very small. Like the two of us are the only ones in existence. And the truth has been laid bare between us.And gods, the relief that po
CereliaI hear them long before I see them. The scuff of heavy boots against the forest floor. The low murmur of voices trying to stay quiet but too weighted with nerves and suspicion to succeed. Labored breathing and faint curses.Clearly the humans haven’t taken a moment to consider how sharp a wolf’s hearing is. Never thought their whispered orders and rattling weapons would be beacons in a forest whose sounds we know like they’re our own breaths.I tighten my focus, steadying the pulse of the spell waiting in my hands. It’s nearly time and I’m so ready for this to be over.All around me, the warriors stay perfectly still, crouched low among the shrubs and trees. No one moves a single muscle. They breathe so quietly that even I can’t hear them. It’s like the entire forest has conspired to hide us, holding its’ breath for what’s about to happen.They’re very close know. Hearing the rattle of Tara’s chains makes my jaw clench. Every soft clink is a reminder of why we’re doing this. W
CereliaI sit cross-legged within the circle of runes, hidden beneath a dense screen of shrubs and low-hanging branches. Around me, warriors melt into the landscape, nearly invisible even to my trained eyes. The humans will never spot us unless we want them to.At least, that’s the hope. They may have gadgets we’re not familiar with. I have to make sure my magic is faster than anything they have to offer.I roll the smooth amber stone between my palms, centering myself. The amplification spell thrums around me, delicate but vast, like a spider web stretched to its limit. It’s ready. I’m ready. Now we just have to wait.Hilda crouches beside me, watching the distant path through the trees where our enemies will appear. Her face is set in that calm, slightly amused expression she wears when she’s holding a dozen different plans in her head at once.Scarlett can be rightfully proud to have this fierce woman as her mother, I think to myself.Hilda’s head cocks to the side before she le
TaraThe air is crackling with tension.It rolls through the group like a thundercloud, thick and stifling, settling under everyone’s skin. Soldiers twitch at every noise. Eyes dart around frantically. Hands tighten on weapons.Malcolm and Redgrave walk at the front of the pack, a careful distance apart, pretending civility. But anyone with half a brain can see the truth. They’re waiting for an excuse to kill each other and their men know it.Ash walks slightly behind them, his expression schooled into something unreadable. I keep my head bowed, collar dragging at my neck, wrists still shackled tightly behind my back. The leads from my collar are held by Redgrave’s men. They seem jumpy too, hands flexing constantly around the chains and pulling the collar tight against my throat.It’s a miracle no one’s opened fire yet. I glance at Ash through lowered lashes. In spite of his impressive acting abilities, I notice the worry lines around his mouth. The way his spine is as straight as an
HildaScarlett is halfway through her second helping of blueberry pancakes and telling me a story about how Percy is definitely scared of bumblebees.“He screamed, Mama!” she says, eyes wide, hands flailing dramatically. “And he’s this big”—she stretches her arms as far as they’ll go—“and a little tiny bee made him run away! Like this!” She zooms her hand through the air, knocking over her cup of milk in the process.I catch it before it falls, mopping the few drops that splashed over the side. “Maybe Percy just didn’t want to get stung,” I say, trying to hide my smile.“He’s a werewolf, Mama. Bees don’t sting for no reason. He’s supposed to be brave. I’m brave and I’m only four.” She holds up four sticky fingers proudly.I lift a brow. “You’re brave, huh? What about the time you made daddy check under your bed for monsters three nights in a row?”Scarlett’s eyes narrow, like I’m betraying her. “That’s different. Monsters are sneaky. Bees are just bees,” she states with irrefutable lo
TaraI hate that my body reacts. Hate that I know what Ash is doing. Hate the way my thighs clenched, my breath hitched, and heat rolled through me like I was the one being touched.I hate that I didn’t want it, and I still responded. That I couldn’t stop the tears or the sick twist of shame in my stomach afterwards. Because it left me aching for him and wishing for more.What is wrong with me?By the time the first trace of morning light touches the sky, I’ve scrubbed my skin raw and changed into fresh clothes. I’m ready before they come for me, heart hammering, mind racing. I tell myself it’s because of the mission. Because of what’s at stake. But really, it’s because I can’t wait to get Ash away from her.When the door creaks open, it’s not a guard who enters. It’s them. Hand in hand. Ash walks in slightly ahead of her, dressed in black again, his face a perfect mask of disdain. Redgrave follows, her steps slow and deliberate, like a queen descending into the dungeon. She carries a
AshShe lights candles before she joins me in bed. Not because she needs the light. It’s for the atmosphere. For the drama. The way the flickering glow dances across her skin, softening edges and disguising shadows.Everything Isadora Redgrave does is calculated.She walks toward me slowly, her silk robe brushing the tops of her thighs, the edges parting just enough to promise what’s beneath. Her eyes track me like a cat watching a mouse. Lazy, confident, assured of her eventual reward.I offer a smile I’ve worn so many times now it practically feels real.She climbs into bed beside me, pressing close, sliding one silky leg over mine. Her fingers skim my chest, but I barely register the sensation. My body reacts out of habit and obligation. My mind is a thousand miles away.Tara. Is she sleeping? Crying? Wondering why I said what I said earlier today? Does she believe it was real. That I meant it?Gods, I hope not. No. She’s too smart to believe that. She knows we have a job to do.I
TaraI haven’t felt anything from Ash in two nights. No phantom touches. No bursts of pleasure that aren’t mine. No echoing orgasms that leave me shaking and ashamed and aching in ways I can’t even name.I should be grateful, but it makes me uneasy. It’s not like Redgrave to keep her hands to herself. If she’s not pawing at him, it means something’s wrong. Maybe she’s punishing him. Maybe he said the wrong thing, or showed too much concern for me, or failed to play the role she expects.I pace my room like a caged animal, ears trained on every creak of the hallway. I’ve barely touched the tray of food they brought me. My stomach’s in knots.Maisey hasn’t been back since yesterday morning, and I don’t know if that’s because she’s been reassigned, or because someone figured out she was watching out for me.The door opens without warning and a tall, broad-shouldered guard steps inside. “You’re wanted,” he says. No ‘please.’ No ‘if you don’t mind.’ Just flat orders and cold eyes.I school
MalcolmThe knock at the compound door is too polite and I know who it is before I open it.Redgrave doesn’t wait to be invited in. She steps over the threshold like she owns the place. In her head, she probably does.Her coat is cream, long, and tailored to her measurements. Her boots click against the concrete like a war drum. Her guards don’t follow. Clearly she doesn’t think she needs protection from me. Stupid bitch.“Redgrave,” I say, voice smooth and friendly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She doesn’t answer. Just walks into my command room like she’s been here a thousand times before. She stops in front of the war table. My maps. My layouts. My plans.And then, with all the casual disdain of royalty, she sits in my chair. “You’ve been busy,” she says, gesturing at the tactical layout.“I’ve been preparing,” I agree. “That’s wonderful to hear, because I’ll be joining you for the attack,” she informs me casually.I blink, then laugh. Not the smartest move, in retrospect. “You