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Malik knew Veronica would leave again.She moved through the world as if it owed her something, like consequences were for other people, lesser people. She didn’t bother hiding it anymore. No excuses. No explanations. Just the same casual confidence, the same expectation that he would look the other way because he always had before.This time, he didn’t.He stood at the edge of the fortress grounds and watched her disappear down the path, red cloak a slash of certainty against the muted earth. She didn’t glance back. In her mind, she was untouchable.He signaled two of his best scouts with a subtle shift of his hand.“Follow her,” he said quietly. “Not close enough to be seen. I want to know where she goes, who she meets, and what she promises in my name.”They nodded once and vanished into the trees.Malik exhaled slowly.His pack came first.He turned back toward the fortress, already cataloging what needed to change, who needed to be moved, who needed to be protected from Veronica’
Jax had told them to stand down.Every instinct he possessed screamed against it, but the order left his mouth anyway, crisp and final. The men hesitated, glancing between him and the dim line of buildings ahead, waiting for him to change his mind.He didn’t.“Pull back,” he repeated. “Now.”Reluctantly, they melted into the darkness, boots quiet against stone, weapons lowered but not stowed. Jax stayed where he was, alone at the edge of the border town, the lights of the tavern flickering like a pulse just beyond reach.He hadn’t been alone like this in years.He leaned against the brick wall, pulled a cigarette from a long-forgotten pack, and lit it. The first drag burned down into his chest, harsh and grounding. He welcomed the sting. It reminded him he was still real, still upright, still in control.That illusion was fragile tonight.The doctor’s voice still echoed in his head, clinical and careful, as if precision might soften the blow.There is a ninety-nine point nine percent
The throne room felt too large for the number of men inside it.Xavier stood at the head of the chamber, hands resting on the back of the carved chair, staring down at the table between them. Ronan stood to his right, arms folded, posture rigid with restrained violence. Abel paced slowly opposite them.“We can’t sit here,” Ronan said finally, breaking the silence. “Every hour we wait is another hour Jo is further away.”Xavier nodded once. The restless pressure pulsed in his chest—a king's burden, the urge to defend what was his and spill blood if required. "Agreed."Abel stopped pacing. “I have an informant who reached out after the festival. They claim to know where Toren was taken, and who took the woman.”“And you trust them?” Ronan asked.Abel’s mouth curved humorlessly. “No.”“Then why meet?” Xavier asked."Because the information lines up with what little we have," Abel replied. "And because if it’s a trap, I want to be the one who controls the approach and risks, not someone e
They were confined to the eastern solar, the one with tall windows and a view of the inner gardens, as if beauty might soften the punishment.It didn’t.Sophie sat curled on one of the wide couches, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around herself in a way she hadn’t done since she was a girl. Shiloh sat on the floor at her feet, back against the couch, fingers absently tracing patterns into the rug as if she might find sense hidden in the weave.Neither of them had spoken for a long time.Outside, the castle hummed with quiet, controlled urgency. Boots on stone. Voices kept deliberately low. The men were working, that much was clear. Abel, Xavier, Ronan, Ryder, Kofi. Moving pieces, pulling threads, chasing what could still be salvaged from the disaster they had helped create.And Sophie hated that they weren’t part of it.“You know,” Shiloh said eventually, voice rough, “I always thought the worst thing I’d ever feel was hunted.”Sophie swallowed. “Turns out it’s being safe while someone
The border town lay beneath a brittle calm, the kind born not of peace but of habit, of people convincing themselves that danger belonged somewhere else. Lantern light pooled along the crooked street below, catching on old stone and worn timber, while music drifted lazily from an open tavern door. Laughter rose and fell in uneven waves, careless and loud, as if the past had never learned how to scream here.Jax stood on the rooftop opposite the square, unmoving, his presence part of the night itself. Every sense was tuned outward, stretched taut with focus, his attention narrowed to the lone figure seated below.Lucian.Unhurried. Unafraid. Drinking as if the world had never once tried to tear him apart.Jax watched him steadily, breathing slow, controlled, the weight of years pressing in around the moment. Memory layered itself over the present whether he wanted it or not, scenes from laboratories and council chambers threading through his thoughts with uncomfortable ease. Lucian had
Jo rocked slowly, the motion instinctive, familiar, her arms curved protectively around the warm weight of the baby against her chest.Scarlett slept with the deep, trusting sleep of an infant who had not yet learned the world could be cruel. Her small breaths puffed softly against Jo’s collarbone, steady and sure, and Jo matched her own breathing to it without thinking. It was something her body remembered, something it had never truly forgotten, even after everything that had been taken from her.She hummed under her breath, half a song, half a prayer. The lullaby slipped out quietly, almost absentmindedly, her voice thin with exhaustion but steady enough to soothe. It was an old tune, one passed from mother to child long before names like Wolf Nation or Sanctuary existed. She had sung it to Riley when she was small, pacing the narrow room they’d once shared, counting the seconds between her child’s breaths like they were sacred.Riley.The thought tightened something deep in her ch







