Jace wasn’t sure when it started., not the bond with Mira, he’d felt that like a thunderclap. Raw. Immediate. Painful in its honesty.
But the second thread, the one tugging quietly, steadily from the edges of his awareness, that was Rhett. At first, Jace had thought it was instinct—pack proximity, Alpha presence, the usual gravitational pull between dominant wolves and those who knew how to follow without submission. But this wasn’t deference. It wasn’t fear. It was his wolf recognizing its mate. A rhythm syncing with his. Like his heartbeat had started listening for someone else’s, and it terrified him. Ifthis was real; if the bond was forming between all three of them, then there was no turning back without tearing something vital apart. He stood at the edge of the Blackstone training grounds, arms crossed as Mira worked through hand-to-hand drills with a young warrior named Risa. Mira moved like wind wrapped around steel, all grace and precision, all muscle and danger. She hadn’t spoken about the kiss. Not to Jace. Not to Rhett. Not to herself, as far as Jace could tell, but she was more focused now. More aware of every presence around her. Like she felt the weight of two threads pulling in opposite directions and wasn’t ready to pick a side. Jace didn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure there was a side. Footsteps sounded behind him. Jace didn’t turn. He didn’t have to. He knew it was Rhett. The Alpha’s presence rolled across the field like a front, cool, dense, and impossible to ignore. Every hair on Jace’s neck stood up, not in alarm, but anticipation. “She’s pushing too hard,” Rhett said quietly. Jace’s voice was even. “That’s how she copes.” Rhett snorted, “She should rest.” Jace shrugged, “She doesn’t know how.” Rhett fell silent beside him, arms folded, jaw tight. Jace dared a glance. Their eyes met., and this time; this time Rhett didn’t look away. There was something new in his gaze. Still guarded, but softer. Not open. Not inviting, but considering. As if, for the first time, Rhett wasn’t denying the possibility. He was studying it. Studying him, and Jace felt it again; that subtle shift in the bond. Warmer. Sharper. Rhett was beginning to feel it, too. The sky darkened suddenly, clouds rolling in too fast. The wind changed. Rhett’s head snapped toward the woods beyond the compound wall. Mira froze mid-strike.and Jace’s instincts flared. “Do you feel that?” he asked, eyes narrowing. Rhett growled. “Something’s wrong.” The perimeter alarm blared—three sharp pulses. A breach. Jace spun toward the tower, but smoke was already rising beyond the northern tree line. Then—a scream, not of pain, of terror. Warriors broke formation. Mira sprinted to Jace’s side, breath sharp, eyes locked on the horizon. “That wasn’t a rogue. That was—” “Too close,” Rhett snapped. “Gear up. We move now.” But it was already too late. From the treeline, something surged. Not a wolf. Not a man, it was something in-between. Too tall. Too fast. Wrong. Its skin shimmered like oil. Its eyes glowed with something ancient. It moved like it had once been part of a pack, but no longer remembered how to be anything but a weapon. It was already in the yard before the second alarm sounded., and it was not alone. Jace’s blade was in his hand before he realized he’d moved. Mira was beside him, and Rhett; Rhett was in full Alpha mode, barking commands, positioning guards, coordinating defenses, but the moment their eyes met, Jace felt it snap. The bond. Real, complete and unavoidable because in the face of something this dangerous, something other, there was no room left for denial. Only connection. Only survival. As the creature charged, its mouth splitting open in an unnatural scream, Jace thought one final thought: it knows what we are.
