When Fury Takes Hold Mickey pov I had convinced Lily to let me walk her home, ostensibly to help carry her books but really to assess the situation with her guardians firsthand. She'd been nervous about the idea, her small frame practically vibrating with anxiety as we approached the modest house on the outskirts of town where she'd been living for the past six months. "You should probably go," Lily whispered as we reached the front porch, her voice tight with the kind of fear that came from experience. "They don't like it when I bring people around." "I'm not leaving you," I said quietly, my enhanced hearing already picking up the sound of raised voices from inside the house. "Not until I know you're safe." Before Lily could protest further, the front door burst open and a man in his forties stepped out—tall, lean, with the kind of cold eyes that I recognized from his worst nightmares. This was the person who had been hurting my mate, and seeing him in person made my wolf ri
Protecting the InnocentMicky pov I had been watching Lily Chen for three weeks, and what I had discovered made my protective instincts burn with barely contained fury. My mate—barely five feet tall and delicate as spun glass—bore the careful marks of someone who had learned to hide pain with practiced expertise. The bruises were always in places that wouldn't show: wrists covered by long sleeves, a careful way of sitting that suggested tender ribs, and the telltale flinch whenever someone moved too quickly in her peripheral vision. But most telling was the way she ate lunch—quickly, efficiently, as if she wasn't sure when her next meal might come. Mom found me in the pack house kitchen at dawn, staring out the window with the kind of controlled rage that made the air around me shimmer with barely leashed power. "You haven't slept," she observed, setting a cup of coffee beside me. "I can't sleep," I replied, my voice carrying the dangerous quiet that reminded mom so much of my d
An Impossible Bond Mickey pov Six months after my first shift, life at Silverstone had settled into a new rhythm. The European surveillance teams had retreated after witnessing the emergence of the True Alpha, though everyone knew they were simply regrouping and planning their next move. I had grown into my new abilities with remarkable grace, balancing my extraordinary power with the same gentle character that had always defined me. Which was why my current state of complete panic was so unusual.Tara pov I found my son pacing frantically in his room, his massive frame moving with the restless energy of someone fighting against every instinct in his body. The scent of stress and confusion filled the space, so strong that I could taste it on the air. "Mickey?" I called softly from his doorway. "What's wrong? You've been agitated all morning." "I can't go to school today," Mickey said without stopping his pacing. "I can't be around people. Something's wrong with me." I stepped i
First Change Tara pov The full moon hung heavy and silver over Silverstone territory, casting long shadows through the forest clearing where our Blackwood family had gathered for what we all knew would be a momentous night. Mickey stood in the center of the sacred circle, his fifteen-year-old frame trembling with anticipation and barely contained energy that seemed to make the very air around him shimmer. I watched from the edge of the clearing, my arms wrapped protectively around my younger children—eight-year-old Emma and six-year-old Daniel, both born in the years of relative peace that had followed Mickey's arrival. Emma had my green eyes and her father's determination, while Daniel possessed Mickey's unusual perceptiveness and an empathy that seemed to extend to every living creature he encountered. "Is Mickey going to be okay, Mama?" Emma whispered, her small hand clutching mine with surprising strength. "He looks like he's in pain." I looked at my eldest son, seeing th
A Mother's Fear Tara pov I stood at the kitchen window, my hands wrapped around a cooling cup of coffee as I watched Mickey practice his forms in the training yard. Even from this distance, I could see the controlled power in every movement, the way his body seemed to flow through combat sequences with an elegance that defied his size and strength. But what worried me wasn't his physical development—it was the three black SUVs that had been parked at various points around Silverstone territory for the past week. Always just outside our borders, always with tinted windows, always moving to new positions whenever pack security approached. "You're going to wear a hole in that floor if you keep pacing," Hunter observed as he entered the kitchen, carrying a tablet loaded with intelligence reports that had been arriving with increasing frequency. "I can't help it," I replied, not taking my eyes off Mickey. "They're watching him, Hunter. They're watching our son like he's some kind
The Next GenerationHunter pov Fifteen years had passed since Mickey Blackwood's birth, and the boy who had entered the world amid threats and political turmoil had grown into something extraordinary. At fifteen, he stood nearly as tall as me, with my steel-gray eyes and Tara's determined spirit, but there was something else about him—a presence that made even seasoned pack warriors step aside when he walked past. I watched from the training ground's observation deck as my son sparred with three opponents simultaneously, his movements fluid and precise in a way that defied his age. The other teenagers—all older and more experienced—circled Mickey like prey animals testing a predator, their wolves recognizing something in him that their human minds couldn't quite process. "He's holding back," Tara observed, joining me at the railing with two cups of coffee. "He could have ended that match five minutes ago." "I know," I replied, accepting the coffee gratefully. "He's been doing tha