The next morning, I startle awake. And scream. Madalynn’s golden eyes are just inches away, blinking as she moves to cover her ears. “Damn. Chill. It’s just me.” “Why the hell—How did you—” I scramble from the bed. “What the hell are you doing here?” “I told you I’d swing by today to take you into town.” Madalynn nods her head toward the window. Sunlight streams through the glass, illuminating the room in a hazy glow. “Crap. What time is it?” I bolt toward the bathroom, my stomach growling. I’m not about to miss a whole day of eating again just because I missed breakfast. “It’s fine. No breakfast this morning,” Madalynn replies dryly. “I’m not too sure Ezra wants to see you right now after yesterday. I’m surprised you survived the night.” I stare at her. “What do you mean? You said he wouldn’t hurt me.” “He wouldn’t,” she hesitates, “Normally. But nothing about this is normal, is it?” Studying her closely, I cross my arms. “How much do you know about…this?” “As much as
The weight of the situation presses down on me like a leaden blanket as I grip the steering wheel, each turn of the road a painful reminder of our predicament. Octavia lies beside me in the passenger seat, her usually vibrant presence reduced to a fragile figure, her breaths shallow and uneven. Every glance I steal at her sends a jolt of fear coursing through my veins, her stillness a haunting echo of the chaos that had engulfed us. How could I have let this happen? The urge to flee, to take her to the safety of our own territory, claws at the edges of my mind. She’d be safe there. Protected. Far away from these monsters. But reason is too hard for me to ignore; we are but mice in the claws of a lion. Our escape would be futile, our capture inevitable. Or rather, her parents would return her on a silver platter if it meant winning this war. With a heavy heart, I direct the car towards the looming gates of the estate, each inch bringing us closer to a fate I dread to eventually face.
A Wyre’s bite is lethal. You either die or turn into a monster. Your spirit animal is ripped apart, shredded, and molded into something…wilder. More dangerous. But a Wyre’s claws are just as painful. I know I’m in a bed, warm covers wrapped around my shivering body, but I’m not fully aware of what’s going on. There are voices that come and go, though the words are too muffled for me to make any sense of them. Rough hands wipe a cold cloth across my forehead, the chill jarring and uncomfortable. Heat blazes through me, sending me deeper into the shadows. “…who was it?” “I didn’t see—” “You were supposed to be watching out…” The voices fall silent. I can’t make sense of who’s who. Each one blends together, melting as one and grating through my mind. The shadows twist around me, my stomach churning as if I’m free-falling through the blackness. It’s all I can do to try and stay somewhat conscious. “If anything happens to her, you will regret this.” A snarl, low and chilling. The
The night engulfs the forest in a suffocating embrace as I navigate through the twisting paths, every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind amplifying the weight of my thoughts. Thoughts of the princess gnaw at my insides, leaving me with a churning sense of unease that refuses to dissipate. She wasn’t the willfully ignorant Princess I’d believed her to be. She is as much of a pawn in this game as we are. Octavia knows next to nothing about this war—this curse. Not many knew the true reason behind our history, but then again, it wasn’t as if any Shifter leader had ever cared enough to find out in the first place. They’d chosen to remain blissfully unaware as they sat behind their guarded walls. She, on the other hand, did not have any choice at all. A part of me wants to tell her the truth, despite its dangers, but my protective side wins out time and time again. If Octavia knows, I’m not sure I’d be able to protect Ezra from the witch’s wrath. Goddess only knows what that crazy
The next morning, I make sure I’m downstairs for breakfast on time. But Ezra isn’t in his usual spot. Instead, Dominic sits at the table with Tristan, eyeing him from across the table. Seeing Tristan in the house, and the lack of the Alpha’s presence is startling. “He’s not here?” I ask. The words slip out before I can stop them. “No,” Dominic replies without taking his eyes off Tristan. Tristan glares back at him, their cups of coffee completely forgotten. “Why?” I make my way into the kitchen, pouring myself a cup of heaven. The heavy scent of the roasted beans fills the air as I pour, adding a touch of milk and some creamer from the fridge. “He has to deal with…trouble.” I pause in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. “What trouble?” Dominic tears his gaze away from Tristan, shooting me a look. “Oh. That trouble.” I’d almost forgotten about yesterday. After leaving Dominic outside, I’d fallen asleep within seconds. The alarm on my phone had barely woken me
The cool glow of my computer screen casts a pale light across the dimly lit room as I review the latest reports from our border patrols. My fingers dance across the keyboard, navigating through the streams of data with practiced ease. I can sense Octavia asleep upstairs, her gentle breathing a small comfort. Madalynn had assured me that the wound inflicted on her in town would heal as long as she had enough rest. Though convincing the Princess of that took more patience than Madalynn had expected. I almost smile at the thought before catching myself. Tonight had been nothing to smile about. I’d tracked down the Wyre who’d hurt her easily enough. He wouldn’t be hurting Octavia—or anyone—ever again. The memory of the confrontation flashes vividly in my mind—the fury burning in my veins as I confronted the Wyre responsible for Octavia's pain. His cowardice crumbled beneath the weight of my rage, his pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. In the end, justice was served, but the satisfac
Breakfast the next morning is tense to say the least. I make it down in time, though Ezra is already in his usual spot, a cup of coffee steaming beside various manila folders and papers. He doesn’t look up when I enter, instead reading over a list of some sort. From the quick glance I get over his shoulder, I see it’s some type of report. “Good morning, Octavia,” Ezra says coldly, setting the paper back into a folder before snapping it shut. He seems to be in a darker mood than normal. I get my own cup of coffee, taking my time. He’s still there when I finally take a seat at the table. Dark, golden eyes study me from across the room, his lips pressed into a thin line. Fingers tap heavily atop the table, a thudding rhythm that slowly grates on my nerves. “Is something wrong?” I finally ask. Dominic sweeps into the room then, actively avoiding my gaze. He bends low over Ezra’s shoulders, whispering in his ear. I only catch a few words, though they don’t make sense. My coffee sits f
As the night cloaked the world outside my prison, I sat alone with my thoughts, seeking solace in the silence. The events of the day replayed in my mind like a haunting melody, each note a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the Wyre's territory. But the tranquility shattered when the door creaked open, and Octavia slipped inside like a wraith, her presence both unexpected and unwelcome. I couldn't help but tense at her arrival, my worries for her safety clawing at the edges of my mind. She crept across the floor, hesitating just an arm’s length away. Her face bore the remnants of fear and exhaustion, her features drawn tight with tension. The memory of her recent attack hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the safety of our walls. "Tristan," she breathed, her voice a mere whisper in the darkness. I rose to meet her, my concern etched into every line of my face. "Octavia, are you alright? You shouldn’t be up. You should be re