登入POV: Imogen
Cooper's car smelled of pine and coffee. The twins had colonized the back seat without discussion or negotiation, the way they did everything. Declan had a window. Hayley always chose the seat where she could watch them both.
"Seat belts," Cooper said.
Declan groaned with his entire body. "They're already on."
Cooper checked the rearview mirror. "Humour me."
Declan tugged the buckle twice, hard enough that Imogen was briefly concerned for the buckle. "Satisfied?"
"Immensely."
Imogen looked out the passenger window before either of them could see her smile.
The drive to Silvercrest Academy took twelve minutes on a clear morning. The ocean flashed between houses in quick silver glimpses before vanishing again. Imogen watched the streets and kept her breathing even and did not think about Melbourne.
She was very practiced at that.
In the back, Declan had moved on from seat belts to volcanoes.
"When the pressure gets too big," he said seriously, "it has to come out."
"Or it explodes," Hayley said.
"That's what I said."
"You said it has to come out. That's different."
Declan frowned. "Mrs. Davies said they all explode eventually."
Hayley looked out her window. "She's talking about mountains."
"Volcanoes are mountains."
"Not all mountains are volcanoes."
A pause. "What's the difference?"
Hayley was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes people are volcanoes too," she said, almost to herself. "They look like mountains until they don't."
Imogen kept her eyes on the road ahead and said nothing.
Cooper drove with one hand on the wheel. Every so often he glanced at Imogen. She felt each one but noticed, somewhere around the third minute of the drive, that Hayley had gone quiet. Not the comfortable quiet of a child watching the world pass by. The careful quiet of a child holding an idea she hadn't decided what to do with yet.
Imogen had learned to tell the difference.
"You're quiet today," Cooper said, low enough to stay under any little ears still listening.
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
His jaw had that particular set it got when he was paying closer attention than he appeared to. "The usual," she said.
The usual changed week to week but always circled the same fear. Someone noticing Declan's strength. A teacher making an innocent comment that lingered too long. Another parent asking questions that started casually and didn't end that way. Fear had become less like panic and more like housekeeping. Constant. Ordinary. Always another problem waiting to be dealt with.
She refused to follow that thought any further.
Her phone had been sitting on the kitchen counter when she checked the news that morning before the twins woke. Third item on the feed. A brief business piece, barely two paragraphs, about the Nightshade Pack's latest Melbourne property acquisition.
The article hadn't even been important. A commercial development. Another hotel. Another acquisition. Just business, the kind of thing that crossed her screen and meant nothing.
Except his photograph had sat beside the headline. Older than she remembered. Sharper. The same grey eyes that looked back at her every morning from two small faces.
She hadn't opened the article. She hadn't needed to.
She had scrolled past it with her face perfectly blank. Then she had made the twins' lunches and convinced herself she hadn't thought about Lachlan once all morning.
Which was why she had now thought about him three times.
The academy appeared ahead, and Cooper pulled into the car park. Declan unclipped his belt before the car fully stopped. Imogen reached for her bag.
Hayley's hand closed around her fingers.
She turned.
Her daughter wasn't looking at the school or the other children streaming past the windows. She was looking only at Imogen. She rubbed her thumb slowly across the back of Imogen's hand. Once. Twice. She always did that when she was trying to find the right words, not because she didn't know them, but because she already knew exactly how much they would hurt.
"Mummy," barely a whisper. "I had the dream again."
The car park noise pulled away. Cooper went still in the front seat. He didn't ask questions. He never did when Hayley used that voice. He had learned long ago that some things in this family were better believed first and explained later.
"Which dream?" Imogen asked.
Hayley's fingers tightened once.
"The big dark wolf," she said. "He's coming."
The cold hit so fast it stole her breath.
The first dream had come three months ago. Hayley had described the same wolf, same eyes, and same quiet certainty that he was on his way. Imogen had told herself it was imagination, the kind of vivid dreaming that empathic children were prone to.
She hadn't slept properly since.
Five years of distance. Five years of silence and careful daily effort and mornings exactly like this one, small and ordinary and safe.
Hayley's dreams were never wrong.
Cooper was watching her now, reading her face. She couldn't get her expression back fast enough.
Hayley just waited, holding her hand, the way she always did when she had delivered words that couldn't be taken back.
And at the edge of Imogen's thoughts, a dark SUV moved slowly along her street.
POV: LachlanThe trail ended in the dockyards.By then, the afternoon had turned the color of old brass. The coast road gave way to chain-link fences and rust-streaked shipping containers stacked six high. Gulls wheeled overhead. Somewhere, a crane groaned. The air smelled of diesel, salt, and fish, with the faint, stubborn tang of blood beneath it.Declan’s blood.Lachlan crouched behind a pallet of shipping crates and let the scent settle. Silver had damaged his nose, but his son’s blood cut through everything. Fresh, close, and unmistakable.Rhys settled beside him. “Third warehouse on the left. Green roof.”“I see it.” The building stood at the end of a gravel lane, long and low, with boarded windows and a sealed loading dock. An abandoned freight depot, left to decay after its owner went bankrupt. Lachlan shifted back, changed into the clothes Hamish had brought, and covered the last forty meters with binoculars in hand.Two guards stood at the main entrance. They weren't rogues
POV: Lachlan The first rule of tracking was that panic made you blind.Lachlan had known that since he was sixteen, when his father took him into the Grampians at dusk and told him to find a fox by scent alone. He knew it now, standing beside the torn ward at the Pack House garden, silver blisters spreading across his shoulder and his son’s blood staining the grass. Yet he could not stop his hands from shaking.So he channelled the tremor into his voice.“Rhys. Hamish. Take the north and east roads. Check every junction. Nobody leaves the territory without being stopped and searched.” He kept his eyes on the grass. “Silvercrest sentries take the coast road. Ask Darcy for his fastest runners. I want six teams of three, each with a tracker.”“Yes, Alpha.”“Cooper.” Cooper Ashford stood three meters away, his lip split and knuckles torn from the rogue he had taken down. The attacker lay bound and gagged on the lawn, unconscious, while Darcy’s men carried him towards the cells. Cooper’s
POV: Imogen She did not remember crossing the room.One moment she was standing at the window with a mug in her hand. The next, she was on the veranda steps, barefoot on hot stone, Cooper beside her, as a familiar sound tore across the lawn. She had heard it only once before in her life.An Alpha’s roar.Lachlan stood in the middle of the garden, surrounded by three men who had breached the north wall. They had not climbed over it. They had torn through the ward-line, leaving a ragged opening where the air looked peeled back like wet paper.Dressed in black, they were lean, fast and grimly professional. One already had a claw buried in Lachlan’s shoulder.Silver. Imogen saw it in his reaction. The claw glinted with a metallic sheen, and where it dragged across his skin, the flesh blistered white before blood welled beneath it.Lachlan seized the attacker’s wrist and snapped it. The crack was followed by a scream. A second man charged low, drove into Lachlan’s ribs and forced him back
POV: Imogen By the third morning, the guest wing had settled into a routine, and Imogen hated how quickly she had adapted to it.She woke at six to Declan arguing with the ceiling about whether it was too early for pancakes. She made tea in the little kitchenette, logged into the school portal at the sitting room desk, and taught her Year Three class through a laptop screen. Thirty small faces filled thirty boxes, while two sentries guarded the door, and Hayley sat at her feet with a nature book open on her knees.It was a strange kind of safety. The walls, wards, and armed wolves in the corridor offered protection, yet she still felt as though she were holding her breath.Lachlan had not returned to Melbourne.He took his calls in the Pack House library, pacing the length of the room with his phone to his ear while Kieran’s voice came through the speaker. Imogen had passed the door twice and heard him mention reallocating resources and refusing to make changes until he returned, all
POV: Lachlan Rhys and Hamish arrived in nine minutes, which Lachlan would remember as the only thing that went to schedule all night.They searched the perimeter first, moving along the fence in the dark with the silent efficiency of wolves who had done this too many times. Lachlan stayed inside, at the doorway of the twins’ room, while Imogen packed two small bags beside him. She folded pyjamas, a blue jumper, and a stuffed rabbit with one ear chewed through, working with stiff concentration, as though she might fall apart if she stopped.“Anything he can’t sleep without?” Lachlan asked.“The rabbit. The moonlight.” She pointed. “Declan has a particular blanket. Hayley has the nature books.”“I’ll carry those.” She looked up at him, and for a moment he thought she might argue. Then she handed him the books.Hamish found it twenty minutes later.He knelt beside the far wall of the twins’ room, a torch clenched between his teeth and fine tweezers in his hand. He removed the torch from
POV: Lachlan Lachlan had his phone out before Matilda finished speaking. Rhys answered on the second ring. “Alpha.”“Cottage. Fifteen minutes. Bring Hamish and the sweep kit.” His voice remained flat. “Full perimeter, then the interior. Nobody enters without my approval.”“Understood.” He ended the call and found Imogen watching him from across the twins’ bed. Over the past two days, he had learned to recognize that expression as a warning.“You didn’t ask me,” she said.“There wasn’t time.”“There’s always time to ask.” She stood, one hand resting on Declan’s blanket. “This is my house.”“Someone stood within half a mile of it tonight, planning your children’s deaths.” He kept his voice low. The twins were asleep, and his anger was more dangerous when he no longer raised his voice. “Your back door has a standard lock, and a six-year-old could climb the garden fence. You’re moving. Tonight.”“I don’t take orders from you.”“This isn’t about us.” His tone came out harder than he inten







