MasukTESSA~I stormed into the police station, my sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor that smelled like spilled old coffee. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, choking the fuck out of me. It had been months since Camila and her whole family vanished, and these assholes were acting like it was just another paperwork headache.The desk sergeant looked up from his computer, his fat face already twisting into that bored, annoyed expression they all wear like a uniform. “Can I help you, miss?”“Help me?” I laughed. “Yeah, you can fucking help me by telling me why the hell you haven’t found them yet! Camila and her mom, her dad, her step brother? A whole fucking family just disappears, poof, gone, and you idiots are sitting here twiddling your thumbs?”He sighed, like I was some nuisance kid wasting his time. “Miss, we’ve been over this and I told you the case is still open, but…”“Still open? Bullshit!” My voice cracked louder, echoing off the crappy beige walls
I burst out laughing, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably, even as tears streamed down my cheeks. Yes, this was why it hadn’t felt real before. I’d always pictured a proposal like this: spontaneous, heartfelt, not scripted by politics or necessity. The laughter mixed with sobs, my hands covering my mouth as I nodded furiously. “Yes,” I managed, my voice breaking. “Yes, Ethan. A thousand times yes.” He slipped the ring onto my finger, standing to pull me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent while he held me tight. His lips brushed my forehead again, lingering there. Then he tilted my chin up, eyes searching mine in the fading light. I didn’t wait for him to close the distance and surged forward, crashing my mouth against his, kissing him like I’d been starving for it and maybe I had. He groaned into me, hands sliding from my waist to grip my hips hard enough to bruise, pulling me flush against him. “Fuck, Camila,” he rasped against my
The days that followed blurred together in a way that felt unreal, like I was watching my own life through a pane of glass. Everything moved too fast and too slow at the same time. One moment I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the next, people were talking about fabrics, rituals, dates, and alliances. Preparation. That was the word everyone kept using. The packs were preparing. The elders were preparing. And apparently, so was I. My healing came first. At least, that’s what they insisted. The healers visited morning and night, pressing bitter salves into my wounds, murmuring words I didn’t understand fully while watching me with sharp, calculating eyes. Whatever poison had been used on the blade that cut me had finally stopped fighting my body. The pain dulled, then faded. By the third day, I could walk properly. By the seventh, the ache was gone. It terrified me how fast it happened. Not because I wasn’t grateful — I was — but because it felt like the world
“How are you feeling?” The question left me before I could overthink it, quiet and awkward, as I sat beside Greg, my hands folded in my lap. Greg shifted slightly, wincing at the movement. “I’m… fine.” The pause after the word was too long to be convincing. He was alive… not fine. I swallowed, forcing myself to look at him. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He smiled but before he could answer, the door opened and Ethan appeared. “Camila,” he called, voice low. “Come with me for a moment.” I blinked, glanced back at Greg — who gave me a small nod, something between permission and relief — and rose to my feet. My body still wasn’t fully healed; pain tugged at my muscles with every step, but I followed Ethan out anyway. The door shutting behind us with a soft click. Once we were in the hallway, away from the sickroom smell, Ethan exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “The elders want to speak with us.” “About what?” I asked, even though part of me already knew. He rubbe
It was crazy how fast everything happened. One moment we were fighting for our lives. The next… we were standing in the ruins of victory and loss. My pack won. But my father died. I kept turning that contradiction over in my head, again and again, like a wound I couldn’t stop picking. The threat was gone. And still, somehow, it felt like we had lost more than any battlefield could ever take. People said winning felt good. No one ever warned me that victory could taste like blood. I didn’t even remember how I was taken inside. I think Ethan carried me, or maybe I walked. Maybe I collapsed and someone dragged me. The details blur every time I try to recall them. All I truly remember is the pain: the burning in my side, the pulsing in my head, the emptiness in my chest. When I woke up next, I was in a bed I didn’t recognize, wrapped in rough blankets, body heavy as stone. My throat was dry, swollen from crying. Every muscle screamed like it had been torn apart and stitched wrong
I tore myself out of Ethan’s arms so fast it hurt, nearly slipping in the blood-smeared dirt as I lunged toward the man who had protected us moments ago.“Dad!” I screamed. My entire body felt electrified, every nerve firing at once. I dropped to my knees beside him, hands reaching out, trying to lift him, trying to stop the fall that had already happened.He hit the ground face-first before I could catch him.“No, please,” I gasped, grabbing his shoulder and turning him over. His head lolled, his lips parting as he tried to force air into lungs that suddenly refused to cooperate.Where was the wound?Was he stabbed?Clawed?Hit in the head?But with the amount of blood on his body, it was likely all of it.“Dad!” My voice was barely intelligible through the shaking. “Look at me. Please. Open your eyes!”His eyelids fluttered, then drifted shut again.It felt like a fist closed around my heart.Ethan staggered toward us, limping, clutching his side as though his ribs were burning. Hi







