Asher “Fuuuuck,” I groan, not a damn inch of me that doesn’t ache. My eyelids are heavy, refusing to open. My muddled brain is still offline and the message that I need to wake up gets short-circuited somewhere before reaching the rest of me. Unfortunately, it’s broadcasting the fact that I’m freezing and in pain loud and clear. I manage to press my palms to the ground, alerting me to the fact that I am indeed lying on a cold slab of concrete. That would explain the kink in my neck and the fact that I’m shivering, but not much else. Where the fuck am I and how did I get here? The penetrating chill is bone deep, making my joints stiff. I suck in a ragged breath as I attempt to bend my knees and get my feet beneath me. The pain of that simple movement is enough to jolt my brain cells back into action, reminding me I have a way to warm up. But when I try to call on my fire, all I get is a weak pulse of heat that fades as quickly as it came. “Blaze?” I reach for my wolf instead.

Elena Guilt sits heavily in my gut as I pack a bag for our trip to find Asher. I’d only just managed to unpack the last of the clothes the guys bought for me on our way here, and now we’re leaving again. Aspen filled Mason in on our plans late last night when he finally came to bed. He insists on coming with us, leaving his pack again when they clearly need his steady leadership. The selfish part of me breathed a sigh of relief, not wanting to be parted from him. But I can’t shake the feeling that his loyalty to me may cost him too much. The sound of paper rustling pulls me out of my reverie and I turn toward the sound. A large yellow envelope sits on the ground by the front door like someone just slid it under. I poke my head out into the hall but it’s empty. I can’t even catch a scent which is odd. Turning the envelope over in my hand, it’s completely blank. I consider leaving it for Mason to deal with but he’s busy because of me, briefing his fathers to take over in his a

Aspen I hold Elena on my lap while Mason drives us to our next destination, Crimson Moon. My shirt is soaked with tears from holding her to me while she cried and it only fuels the rage burning me from the inside out. My brother better hope we don’t catch up with him or have a very good exclamation if we do. She only just fell asleep in my arms so I keep stroking her hair, hoping she won’t wake. Mason keeps glancing at us in the rearview mirror, worry for his mate creasing his brow. It took a lot of convincing for him not to load her in the car and head straight back to Sacred Moon, lock her away from the world and anything else that could hurt her. In the end he agreed that regardless of Asher’s path, we needed to follow our plan to ensure Elena’s safety. It took even more arguing for him to release our mate to me so he could drive. But time is of the essence and he’s made the trip between Glass Lake and Crimson Moon many times to visit his grandparents, and knows the route in h

Elena “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Mason snarls at Aspen “You might have mentioned that when someone started picking off your ex-girlfriends by strangling and gutting them with tree limbs!” “Mason,” I tug at his arm, trying to pull him away from an unintimidated Aspen before their argument comes to blows. “No, Elena!” He shakes me off, his use of my full name more telling than his tone of how pissed he is. “Don’t you dare take his side. What he did is inexcusable!” “No, you’re being fucking ridiculous! There are dozens, if not hundreds of Earth Fae living in the vicinity. Why would I suspect my own mother who wouldn’t hurt a fly?” He blares at him. “By that logic, maybe we should have interrogated Elena’s mom too. She can control earth elements.” “But she, along with the others you referred to, wouldn’t have a clue who you and your brother have been whoring around with for the last few years now would they? No, your mother would be suspect number one on that list!”

Asher I’m so confused. My head tells me I recognize this house, that I’ve lived a life in it full of love and dreams for the future. But something feels off, wrong somehow. It’s poking at me like an itch I can’t scratch. When I wake up this morning, I’m on autopilot. I get out of bed, get ready for the day, and join my mate in the kitchen where she is already cooking breakfast. I kiss her cheek, take the mug of coffee she offers, and sit at the kitchen table, waiting for her to join me. Perfectly normal, right? Then why do I have this nagging feeling it’s not normal at all? “What’s wrong, my love?” Nissa asks when she sets a plate in front of me and I do nothing but stare at it. My head feels fuzzy and my limbs feel heavy. I can’t remember the last time I ate but I don’t feel the least bit hungry. It feels like something is banging against my skull, trying to get out and the longer I sit there trying to figure out what it is, the more intense the throbbing pain becomes. I