LOGINNoah"Double tape the bottom of this one, it’s going to be heavy once it’s filled with books."She holds a box out across the living room, and I don't take it because my mind’s too busy spiraling to focus on her words.First thing I do wrong tonight.There's going to be a whole lot more.There’s no manual for breaking up with someone who’s absolutely perfect and doesn’t deserve or expect it.Considering my recent track record, if there was one, I wouldn’t have heeded the advice in it anyway.She sets it down to reach for the tape herself, easy, like it's nothing, her tidy block letters marching along the side.She's been packing all week like the move is a countdown to something awesome and she’s too excited to wait.It is. For her."You okay?"She wipes her hands on her jeans."You've been parked in my doorway like a Jehovah's Witness."I rehearsed this in the truck.Rehearsed it sitting at the curb for the last hour with the engine off, watching her shadow cross the blinds, telling
NoahI told Heidi I had a hunt.There's no hunt.Nothing on the boards, nothing called in, no monster out here worth the crossbow on my back.I just couldn't sit in her kitchen one more minute while she planned a whole life with me and I nodded along like a man who's all in.I’ve never hated myself more.So I'm walking the dark with a weapon I won't use, telling myself the direction I picked was random.It wasn't random.I'm well onto the Northgate edge before I'll admit that, and I only admit it because I'm already standing at the rim of a clearing looking at the reason I came.He's crouched in the leaf litter, no shirt on, his blond hair catching the moon.I refuse to notice how good he looks. What I do pay attention to is the fact that he’s investing on his own.He’s keeping something from me and I’m not in the mood for his bullshit.That's the part that gets me moving before my brain signs off on it."You didn’t tell me you were coming out tonight," I accuse.He doesn't startle. H
Heidi"Stop wriggling. You're bleeding on my good dish towel."Leon yanks his hand back like the antiseptic's the thing that might kill him, not the grown men who throw him around a barn three nights a week."It's nothing. Marcus barely caught me.""Marcus is nineteen and built like a brick outhouse. Sit."He always sits, eventually, because under all the swagger he's still fourteen and he still likes being fussed over, even if he'd sooner eat the towel than say so.I dab. He hisses. I dab again, gentler."Dad said I had good footwork tonight."He says it the way other kids announce they made the team. Lit up. Proud. Glowing about the privilege of getting hit in the face."Dad said that. Out loud?"Seems highly unlikely to me. I love my dad, but praise isn’t something he really does."He nodded. Same thing."It is, actually.From our father a nod is a parade. I'd know. I spent a whole childhood collecting them and got maybe three.Here's the thing nobody would ever say out loud in the
DaxAfter four hours of staring at my ceiling without being able to fall asleep, I finally give up.So here I am at the gym before the sun's even thinking about showing its face, beating the heavy bag like it owes me an apology, and my wolf won't shut the fuck up.Tell him, he says. Again. For approximately the nine hundredth time. Tell the hunter what we know. Then claim him and keep him.Right.Brilliant.Walk up to Noah Hunter, a man who has spent his whole life believing werewolves are vicious monsters, and announce that somebody out there is deliberately biting people to make more of us.Watch his face do the thing where the hatred that’s been slowly eroding comes crashing back.Watch him reach for the silver he keeps on every blade he owns and try to kill me, and Finn, and every other wolf he encounters with it.No thanks.I hit the bag harder. The chain screams.The problem isn't even him, not really.Part of me, which could be a stupid part with no sense of self-preservation,
NoahBranches.That's the whole strategy now, apparently.Run face-first through every branch in the county and trust that the trees hate werewolves more than they hate me.Behind us the howls are stacking up, two then four then a number I stop counting because counting won't make me faster.I can't smell my surroundings or how far behind us they are.That part annoys me endlessly.Dax has a map of the dark in his nose and all I've got are eyes that work better than most people’s in the dark, but I can’t see behind me.I’ve also got a brain screaming the same useless word on a loop.Faster. Faster. Faster.He's not leaving me.That's something I'll think about later, if there is a later.He's the fast one.Pack Alpha, all that raw power, he could be a county away by now.Instead, he stays with me, half a step back and to the left, guiding me toward the rail cut like his first instinct is to put himself between me and danger.I file it. No time to hate it properly right now.My foot ge
DaxMy hand's a vise on Noah’s arm and he's shaking under it like a wire about to snap.Let him shoot, the wolf says. Then we kill the rest. Then we take ours home and celebrate the victory properly.Sure. Seven wolves and a witch's leashed pet, and his big strategy is everyone dies except the one he likes.I don't let go.The big one at the back has his head up.Scanning.Reading the dark.The dark out here is full of us, the hunter and me and whatever's left of the stupid thing we were doing in this ditch ninety seconds ago.I stop breathing.So does Noah.First smart thing he's done since he reached for that crossbow and mistook it for a solution to this problem.And I get it.Of course I fucking get it, because every cell I've got is screaming the same thing his are.I’m an apex Alpha, twenty years old, built to run at the thing in the dark, not lie in a ditch and let it walk past.The need to move is an actual live animal in my chest and I'm sitting on its head with a hunter's pu
NoahTonight I'm doing something no Hunter has done in the history of ever.I'm standing in the open at the Northgate fence, unarmed, waiting for a werewolf to show up.Dad would shoot me himself. Two in the chest, one in the headstone. HERE LIES NOAH. HE WAS ASKING FOR IT.Leaving it behind is a d
DaxThe thing's in pieces at our feet and my body's still waiting for round two.I never come down off a kill clean. My blood's still up, ears still straining, every muscle still voting to hit something else.I don’t think it’s a werewolf thing. It’s an adrenaline thing.So when the wolf decides to
NoahThe wolf hits it like a truck, and the thing barely rocks.Wrong.Two hundred pounds of Alpha at a dead run should fold anything with a spine.This rotten thing takes the hit, slides back a boot-length in the dirt, and swings an arm the size of my leg.The wolf has to wrench sideways midair to
DaxFor the last hour I've been telling myself I'm only out here to keep the idiot from getting himself killed.It's a good lie.Responsible.Very Alpha.The kind of thing my father would've said with a straight face right before going off and doing exactly what he wanted.Truth is, I caught his tr







