LOGINRowan povThe leather binding on the oldest pack log split when I opened it, dropping small flakes of dry glue onto my desk, but I didn’t brush them away. I kept my fingers flat against the edge of the paper, tracing down the column where the names from the northern district massacre were listed in fading blue ink.The dates were fixed–Thirteen years. I didn’t need to look at the numbers, but with Silas sleeping two corridors away, I needed to see the full record of that night on paper. Every decision I’d made, every thread I’d cut to keep Romy alive–all of it was laid out in a way I could follow the chain back to its source.My thumb moved over the entry for her family, then stayed there as I scanned through.Aaron knocked twice before coming in, carrying a thin manila folder. He stood by the corner of the heavy wooden desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking at the floorboards between us.“It’s been ten months, Rowan,” Aaron said, his voice dropping as he leaned c
Rowan povThe latch on the side door didn’t catch properly when I pulled it shut, so I had to shove my shoulder against the wet oak until the bolt clicked into the plate. Midnight had passed twenty minutes ago.The wind coming off the lower valley carried the smell of diesel exhaust and frozen pine needles, hitting my face hard enough to make my eyes water as I stepped onto the gravel path.Silas’s comments about the southern fence line kept repeating behind my teeth, a low weight that wouldn’t shift until I’d seen the sensor feed myself.I kept my glove off so I could slide my thumb across the glass of the handheld diagnostic monitor. The screen was too bright in the dark, throwing a square of pale blue light against the front of my jacket.I walked past the woodpile, my boots sinking into the soft mud where the grass had turned to slush during the afternoon thaw, before hitting the narrow tarmac road that led to the old generator shed.The diagnostics were showing a five-second late
Rowan povIt took four of Silas’s men to haul the equipment cases up the narrow service stairs, their nylon tactical jackets rubbing against the wood paneling with a heavy, rhythmic clicking sound. They didn’t ask where the outlets were–one of them was a man named Jesse with a scarred chin who found the circuit breaker behind the pantry and plugged in the frequency scramblers before Silas had even taken off his overcoat.The small black boxes began humming immediately. Low, like a refrigerator compressor kicking on in an empty room, making the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Jesse adjusted the dials, his thick fingers moving across the plastic switches, then nodded once toward the hallway. The indicators flickered from blue to a solid, flat red, and the signal bar on my phone dropped to nothing before I could finish putting it back into my pocket.Silas didn’t look at the gear, he walked straight to the writing desk by the narrow window, his leather shoes leaving white
Rowan pov Ink from the printer cartridge had gotten onto the side of my hand. I wiped it against my jeans but it only smeared into the fabric, leaving a dark mark near the pocket. The spreadsheet printouts of the perimeter manifests were laid out edge to edge on the desk, the columns of timestamps and fence sensor logs running together after three hours of staring at the same numbers.Romy sat by the narrow window on the other side of the room. A rag soaked in cleaning solvent was across her knee, and she was scraping the carbon buildup out of her trigger assembly with the tip of a thin bone pick. The metal scraper clicked against the casing, once, twice, and then stopped. She didn’t look over at the desk, she just picked up another cloth and began to rub the slide down, her thumb pressing into the steel until her knuckle went pale.The solvent smelled of kerosene and cold metal, yet it had already been an hour.Outside, a low, heavy rumble came from the bottom of the long tarmac d
Romy pov My fingers moved first. A dull, agonising prickle of heat flared beneath the nails of my left hand as feeling began to return to my fingers.For hours I’d been completely pinned to the mattress, staring at a single crack in the ceiling plaster until my eyes burned and the rest of the room blurred into nothing but gray.My thoughts became too loud, ringing in my ears as the bitter taste of the poison sat at the back of my throat. Before my body fully woke up, Rowan’s voice boomed down the hall. He was shouting, his voice raw with a fury that cut straight through the heavy stone walls. Listening to it, the trap clicked into place, I knew it was Caleb.Rowan wasn’t angry at me, this was the part I couldn’t make sense of as I laid there in the dark. He was angry at himself– I’d heard it in his voice when he was shouting, just the raw, ugly sound of a man who couldn’t forgive himself for walking away from the estate–For leaving me inside where Pamela and Valerie could reach me.
Rowan pov The cold mud near the terminal gatehouse didn’t move easily under my boots, the grey slush freezing over into black ice before the runoff could reach the drainage ditch.My knuckles were raw where they’d hit Caleb’s jawbone, the split skin leaking blood that crawled down his chin and stained his shirt.The line guards were still gathering the scattered transit packets from the gravel path, but the heat under my collarbone wouldn’t let me look down to inspect whatever was going on..Caleb headed back toward the western line quarters with his mouth full of blood, but his voice was still stuck inside the wood of the fence posts. Every word he’d said about Kaelen, every small filthy detail about the high grass behind the old stables, kept turning in my head until it ached from the pressure.The mate bond was a dark, twisting cord pulled tight against my chest, the vibration coming through the link so hot it made the cold sleet feel like dry ash against my eyelashes. Her scent w
Romy pov1:30 AM.My subdued, sullen bridesmaid persona was dead and buried. In its place was Viper and Romy, the girl whose sister was killed by a beast.I stood on the ledge of the adjacent skyscraper, the freezing Buston wind whipping around my dark, skin-tight tactical gear. My face was conceal
Romy pov“Did… did she just reject him?”“Did she reject Alpha Rowan?”“Is she crazy?”“Wait… she’s the Alpha’s mate?”The frantic, horrified whispers of the crowd swept through the grand reception hall like wildfire.Hundreds of pairs of eyes darted between me and the towering Beast of Flames stan
Rowan, 31 "Today is his son's wedding, Alpha. Can we just give him the decency of enjoying a father-of-the-groom day before taking him in for questioning?"Aaron, my Beta and second-in-command, matched my long strides as we turned out of the elevator. I barely paid heed to his words."I don't have
Romy, 23. Present Day. “That dress,” Camellia noted, her polished finger pointing directly at my neck as I turned slightly in the full-length mirror. “It doesn't cover the tattoo.” I kept my eyes on the raven tattoo climbing the side of my neck. It was for Alina, the only person who had ever call







