When it Rains it Pours.

Keon's POV:

Two bonds.

Two different, living functional bonds.

That was the real problem.

Not Winter’s silence. Not Derrick. Not Winter’s confusion or the way the pack looks at her like she’s a bomb about to go off. It’s the bonds. Two of them, pulling Winter in different directions, existing where there should only ever be one.

It doesn’t make any sense.

I’ve gone through all the ancient books and texts over a hundred times by now. A bond ties two souls–wolves, for as long as they live. Unless it’s rejected. Bonds don’t overlap.

They don’t share.

At least they shouldn’t.

But when I led the suggestion of Derrick marking her with the relic, what was I even thinking? I just didn’t want Derrick physically tearing into her flesh. I couldn’t have stood there and allowed him to do that. That’s the only excuse I can come up with.

But still. Magic isn’t sloppy, and leaves no room for mistakes or flaws. I should’ve known that before even allowing the dammed mating. I grit my teeth in frustration.

One witch with not one but two mates?

Fate isn’t sloppy like that. And yet Winter stands at the center of it, breathing, living, walking around like she isn’t carrying something that should’ve torn her apart already.

It makes no sense.

One of them should’ve collapsed, and it should’ve been Derrick’s. Winter was my true mate, gifted to me by the moon. She shouldn’t have to decide which one is more genuine, and I shouldn’t have to fight my own bloody brother over it too.

But if I had to. I would.

And I’m not ashamed to admit that.

I drag a hand over my face, trying to calm myself. I glance at the last chair with a mark that’s still visible. Claw. The symbol of a claw print stares at me. I turn to the compass.

According to the research I’ve done so far, someone having two mates has never happened before.

I call bullshit on that.

We’ve existed as a species for over a thousand years and something like this really hasn’t happened before?

And I thought they said history always repeats itself.

Either this truly hasn’t happened before, or someone’s lying.

And something in my mind keeps leaning towards the other.

My chair shifts.

Just slightly.

It’s enough to set my wolf off.

The stone scrapes against the floor, sharp enough that I look down, irritation flaring. My wolf hearing makes everything louder than it should be. I push it back into place with my boot and dismiss the spike of unease that crawls up my spine.

I haven’t slept. That’s all.

Just then, someone mindlinks me.

It’s one of the spies I sent to do a check on the Winter before she came here.

Before she became a Blackbird.

Which Blackbird did she belong to, though?

I ignore the burning question, answering him.

“Alpha. I have news about Winter.”

The world tightens.

Not pain. Not panic.

A pull.

Low in my chest, something tugs once, hard enough that my breath stutters. My wolf lifts its head, suddenly awake, suddenly alert.

I straighten slowly. “What kind of news?”

He hesitates.

The bond pulls at me again, harder this time. More urgent.

My blood runs cold.

I’m on my feet immediately.

“Pause,” I say, already moving.

I don’t ask questions. I don’t call for backup. I move, boots eating up the corridors as my senses stretch outward, searching, locking onto the only thing that matters.

Winter.

Her scent hits me near the gardens—and it’s wrong.

I ignore the greetings of a few maids and servants, because it feels like a bomb is about to go off and pausing would prevent me from detonating it.

It feels dull somehow. Faded and laced with something that doesn’t smell like wolf. It makes my wolf snarl. Magic clings to the air like residue after a storm.

I follow it off the main path.

The part her scent follows is away from her usual hang spot. It’s the old trail from the Blood-Fang. The memory of the war has my discomfort rising. Why would Winter choose to come here?

Too far.

Too quiet.

The grass on this side of the pack house is ridiculously tall, and Winter isn’t so tall that I can spot her.

Dammit.

Suddenly I hear Winter scream.

I’ve shifted and begun sprinting across the field before I realize it.

“Please-” she cries out.

The hedges grow thicker, the trees taller, blocking out the light. Every instinct I have is screaming now, rage and fear tangling together until I can’t tell them apart.

Movement flashes ahead.

I catch it—just a glimpse. Not wolf. Not human. Something else entirely.

“Stop!” I roar, shifting forward—

And it’s gone.

The scent ends abruptly.

No, not ends.

Drops.

I skid to a halt.

She’s on the ground.

Winter lies crumpled at the edge of the path, half-hidden by crushed grass and broken leaves. Her skin is too pale. Her magic flickers weakly, like it’s struggling to stay tethered to her body.

The bond slams into me full force.

I shift back, on my knees before I realize I moved.

“Winter.” My voice comes out rough, barely human. I reach for her, hands hovering for half a second before I touch her shoulder. She’s warm. Breathing. Alive.

Barely.

Relief crashes through me so hard it almost knocks the air from my lungs. It’s followed immediately by something darker. Heavier.

Fury.

Someone did this.

Inside my territory.

Under my watch.

To my mate.

While I was sitting in a room convincing myself I had time.

My jaw tightens as I scan the clearing, senses stretched to their limit. Whatever attacked her is gone—but the feeling it left behind lingers, crawling under my skin like a warning.

This wasn’t random.

This wasn’t careless.

Someone knew where to find her.

I gather her carefully into my arms, her weight grounding and terrifying all at once. The bond hums between us now, raw and exposed, screaming that this should not have happened.

And all I can think is one question, over and over again—

Who did this to you?