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
ScarlettDarkness stretches in every direction. Not the scary kind, not the kind that makes my heart race and my hands clutch at the blankets, but the nice, quiet, endless kind.Like a sky without stars, but you know they’re just out of sight. Like the moment before a secret is whispered and you’re all excited.I know I’m dreaming. I always know when I’m dreaming, but this is one of the dreams that isn’t just a dream.I need to find Ash. I know it’s important that he has to come and help us fight the bad man who has daddy. I’m not sure why yet, but that doesn’t matter.Usually it’s easy to just see what he’s doing, but tonight I have to talk to him and I think that’s why it’s more difficult. Mommy says I can talk the hind leg off a donkey, so it shouldn’t be too hard.“Ash,” I call his name, letting it ripple through the nothingness. I can feel the shape of it as I say it. Short and sharp, like the snap of twigs beneath my feet when I walk barefoot next to the creek.There’s no answer
AshI wake up cursing, tangled in my sheets like some kind of deranged marionette. The brat did it. She actually did it. Pulled me right into whatever bizarre little web of magic she has, and now, no matter how much I’d like to ignore it, I can feel the pull.Fuck.I rub a hand over my face, groaning. There has to be a way to sever this ridiculous connection. I don’t do attachments. I don’t do obligations.The tiny, tyrannical nightmare in pigtails just yanked me straight out of my perfectly pleasant existence and into something I do not want to be a part of. First of all, werewolves can probably kill me now.Secondly, they don’t have clubs and bars and theatres in the sticks. They have testosterone and family values. I think I’m allergic to the latter.“No, no, no.” I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that might undo whatever ridiculous connection just dragged me into this mess. Of course it doesn’t. Because my luck is absolute shit when it comes to that kid.Groaning, I grab the nearest b
HildaI knew Percy and Nixie would come through for me, but they really outdid themselves. Maps. Schedules. Weaknesses. Everything I need to get Arlo back is spread across the heavy oak table in front of me.Of course I’ve always known that they’re efficient and reliable, but what they’ve gotten me goes above and beyond.When they arrived, Nixie’s face was flushed from the cold, her red hair wild in the wind, but there was triumph in her green eyes and I knew things were finally looking up.Percy quietly handed me the bundle of documents. I’m sure he’s better than a human CIA agent it was all so thoroughly set out. Now it’s up to me to take the information and find the best way to get my mate back.I’m only interested in quick results right now. Finesse means nothing in the face of Arlo’s suffering. I won’t allow anyone from outside the compound to be hurt, but those within the walls where Arlo is being tortured, will not be spared.Malcolm is feared but not liked. That much is cle
TaraScarlett is a menace. An adorable, sharp-witted, completely unstoppable menace and Ash has no clue what he’s up against.I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching Ash lose yet another argument to the tiny tyrant. He doesn’t stand a chance, and I think deep down, he knows it. Even if he isn’t quite ready to admit defeat yet.“You can’t just order me around like some lackey,” he protests, running a hand through his already-messy dark hair. Scarlett tilts her head, considering. “Yes, I can. What’s a lackey?”Ash exhales through his nose, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “You’re two. And a lackey is a servant.”“I’m almost three,” she corrects primly. “And you already swore loyalty to Mr. Tibbles, which means you have to listen to me.”I press a hand to my mouth to stifle my laughter. It doesn’t help. Ash glares at me. “You think this is funny?” I shrug. “A little. Did you really bend the knee to Mr. Tibbles? I’m afraid she has you dead to rights then. She’s he’s envoy.”
TaraThe gravel crunches under my heels as we approach the front door, and I can’t stop staring at the building in front of me.The Redgrave mansion is less a house and more a gothic cathedral masquerading as one. Three stories of pristine white stone, arched windows, and wrought-iron balconies. Columns support a sweeping front porch lit by warm golden sconces, and every inch of the place hums with old money.There’s music drifting out, something classical and haunting, underscored by the gentle clinking of glasses and murmured conversations. It’s incredibly intimidating.Ash reaches for the door, pausing for a moment to look over at me. He’d offered me his dagger before we left the motel, but I’d refused. “I don’t know how to use it,” I told him honestly. “And if things get that serious, I’ll be better off shifting.”His expression had tightened. “Tara, if you shift in there-” He didn’t need to tell me. I’d be revealing the existence of werewolves. In my heart I’ve already decid
TaraI pace the narrow motel room like a caged animal. The carpet is stained and threadbare, the air too dry, the silence too loud. Ash lounges on the bed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just try to send me home like I’m some fragile thing he has to protect.I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. “You think because I’m not some blade-wielding she-wolf, I’m incapable of deciding what risks I’m willing to take?” Ash lifts an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re pissed.”“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.” He sighs and swings his legs off the bed, sitting up. “Tara, I didn’t mean-”“I know exactly what you meant,” I cut him off before he can say something else that’ll make my blood boil. “You think I need protection. That I’m too weak and fragile to handle this. Poor little broken Tara can’t stand up for herself.”“I think you’re not thinking clearly,” he says calmly, “And that scares me.” I cross my arms and stare him down. “You’re scared? You. The
They’ve been gone for a week. Seven full days and not so much as a whisper. Not from Tara or Ash. I haven’t even been able to connect with her via mind link.Which is more annoying than concerning because I don’t know whether Tara is blocking everyone out on purpose, or whether she’s not capable of mind-linking. To my shame, I’ve never linked with her before and neither has anyone else.I hate not knowing what’s going on. I stalk through the front room of the house like a caged beast, arms crossed tight over my chest, and glare out the window as if it’ll suddenly show me something other than the same damn trees.The forest outside is calm. Birds chirping and wind rustling like nature has no clue the world is holding its breath.“She’s fine,” Arlo says from behind me, his voice calm and reassuring. It’s the same tone he uses when our daughter scrapes a knee and swears she’s dying. I whirl around, “You don’t know that.”He’s leaning back in a chair at the kitchen table, ankle rest
AshThe streets smell like stale beer, piss, and cheap cigarettes. Fitting, really. This city wears its decay like a second skin. Worn thin in places, rotting in others. And I’m walking straight through its guts, trying to chase ghosts.The note’s still in my pocket. Crumpled now, but the words ring as loud as ever. He knows. I don’t like being watched. I like it even less when the person watching knows exactly who I am.Don’t even get me started on Tara. She's making this harder than it has to be, with her sharp wit, easy laughter and those big eyes that look at me like I’m not a monster. Like I could be more than who I am. It’s dangerously distracting.I find the people I’m looking for near the river, where the city hides its’ disrepute. There’s a makeshift fire burning in a metal drum and a few bundled-up figures huddled around it, trying to ward off the chill.I keep my hands where they can see them as I approach. Nobody around here trusts clean boots and a straight spine.“Ev
Tara When I wake, the first thing I notice is that the bed beside me is empty. The second is the faint, echoing thud of my heart as I remember what happened the night before.The words are still carved into my thoughts like they were burned there: He knows. Who knows? What exactly? And who dropped the note there? So smoothly that even my werewolf senses didn’t pick it up.I sit up slowly, my nerves tangled like a knotted necklace. Ash is pacing by the window, fully dressed in black again. I’m sure he knows how good the color looks on him.“Morning,” I croak. “Staring dramatically into the sunrise, or just brooding for fun?” He glances over his shoulder, eyes flicking to my face like he’s assessing me for damage. “A little of both.”“Did you sleep?” I ask, only to be met with a nonchalant shrug. “Beauty rest is for people without enemies.”I throw the blanket off and slide to the edge of the bed. My legs feel a little wobbly as I remember the look on his face last night once we were
TaraAmber smells like wealth and cigars, and I feel like a walking accident waiting to happen.I step into the lounge on Ash’s arm, wearing the red dress that hugs me in all the right places and exposes every ounce of self-doubt I possess. My heels click against the floor like gunshots. Heads turn. Ash smiles like he owns the place. I try not to trip."Chin up," he murmurs, guiding me further into the lounge. "You’re a queen, remember?""I feel like a cautionary tale." He chuckles low, the sound curling around my spine. “A very sexy cautionary tale.” I jab him in the ribs with my elbow. “Don’t make me spill out of this thing.”Ash orders another bottle of ridiculously expensive wineand leads us to the same table as last night. Already, I can feel eyes on me. "Showtime," Ash whispers, topping off my glass.I glance around the room, trying to find the man from last night—the one who watched me like he was memorizing every freckle. It doesn’t take long. He’s seated at the bar this time,
Tara The sun creeps through the motel blinds like it’s got something to be smug about. I squint against the glare, the cotton in my mouth reminding me that maybe two glasses of wine, drunk at speed, were a tactical error.My head’s not splitting, but it’s definitely letting me know I made bad choices last night. Ash isn’t in the room.He waltzes in as if on cue, looking infuriatingly perfect. Crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair tousled in a way that’s definitely on purpose. He carries a bag in one hand, coffee in the other."You drool when you sleep," he says, placing a cup on the nightstand beside me. "I do not,” I argue. "You do. Adorably, I might add. Like a baby dragon."I sit up, snatch the coffee, and take a sip. Milk, no sugar. He knows how I take it, which should not make me feel all glowy."What’s in the bag?" He grins, wicked and self-satisfied, and holds it up with a flourish. "Your costume for tonight’s return engagement."I take it with more suspicion t
AshThe wine bottle is empty and Tara’s cheeks are glowing like she’s been kissed by the sun. She’s blinking slowly, caught between tipsy and overwhelmed, and I decide that’s our cue.I stand without preamble, smiling suavely at our companions. "We should be heading out," I say with a smile that toes the line between polite and possessive. "My sister isn’t used to these late nights."Tara’s eyes go wide, the perfect doe-in-headlights look, and I almost laugh. The table protests in a flurry of disappointed sighs and offers of more drinks. One man in particular looks personally offended that she’s leaving before he’s managed to charm the dress off her.She waves a hand, pink in the face. "I’m just not much of a drinker," she says apologetically, which is technically true, though I’d categorize her performance tonight as impressively reckless."We may stop by again tomorrow," I offer smoothly. I make sure to catch the eye of the man who’s been lurking at the edge of the crowd. He’s the q
TaraThe moment we step into Amber’s, every instinct I have goes on high alert. It's subtle, but unmistakable, a lull in conversation, the way heads pivot just a fraction too long. I feel eyes on us, and not in a friendly, welcome-to-the-neighborhood kind of way.Ash, of course, looks like he belongs on the cover of some luxury lifestyle magazine. Effortless. Debauched. Smug. The smirk he slides across the room is pure velvet, the kind that says, I own this place, you just don’t know it yet.“Relax, little dove,” he murmurs, brushing close enough that his breath grazes my ear. “You look like someone’s about to stab you.”“Maybe because that’s entirely possible,” I whisper back, eyes scanning the room. He chuckles, a low, dark sound that has no business being this comforting, and wraps his arm loosely around my waist.“Just lean into it,” he says smoothly. “You look like a queen, now act like it.”Easy for him to say. The room is a cocoon of decadence. Leather chairs that look too expe