MasukThe command in that voice hit the clearing like a physical force. Both rogues froze, their aggression melting into instinctive fear. They backed away from me, heads bowed, shoulders hunched, taking on postures of total submission before the shadows even parted.
A man stepped into the faint light filtering through the canopy. Tall, broad-shouldered, and built like a wall of solid muscle, he radiated an authority so thick it made the air heavy to breathe. Fresh blood was smeared across his chest, though I couldn't tell if it belonged to him or someone else. The rogue nearest him lowered his gaze to the dirt, trembling violently. “Varek.” My heart stopped. The Rogue Alpha. I recognized him instantly from the emergency security bulletins posted across every pack border. Wanted for raids, massacres, and terrorizing the northern territories, his face was synonymous with death. But seeing him in person was different. He looked like a predator who commanded everything around him. Varek’s dark eyes swept over the scene with terrifying slowness—the rogue lying dead on the ground with his blood soaking the roots of the oak tree, the scattered medical supplies. And finally his gaze drifted to me—to my torn blouse, my bloody hands, and the silver knife I still clutched in my fist. Then he turned his dark eyes onto the two remaining men. His expression turned unnaturally still. “Explain,” Varek said. His voice was laced with a tremor that made my skin prickle. The rogue who had tried to corner me stammered. “She—she attacked us! We were just passing through, and she killed Garren!” “You tried to assault me!” I screamed, my voice cracking. “You trapped me out here!” Varek’s jaw tightened. A dark energy flared around him, thick with an anger so volatile I could feel it rolling off him in waves. But his eyes remained unreadable. I couldn't tell who his rage was directed at—the men who stood before him, or me for holding the blade. “Back away from her,” Varek commanded. The rogues flinched, taking a frantic step backward, but I couldn't process his order as protection. All I saw was the most dangerous creature in the North taking control of the scene. I retreated until my spine hit the trunk of the oak, keeping the silver blade leveled directly at his chest. Varek’s eyes locked onto mine. “Put the knife down, Ivy.” The sound of my name on his lips sent a tremor of fear through my veins. I had never seen this man in my life or spoken to him. “How do you know my name?” I demanded, my hands shaking so violently. He took one deliberate step toward me, his dark eyes searching my face with intensity. “Ivy, drop the weapon,” he repeated in a controlled tone. Before I could process the surreal nightmare of the moment, the taller rogue behind him snapped. Desperation made him reckless. “Alpha, she’s just a Thornwood healer! Take her down or let us—” He shifted his weight, taking an aggressive step forward. Varek’s head snapped toward the rogue, his body pivoting with blinding speed as he raised a hand to cut the man off. “Get away from—” Varek started. I didn't let him finish the command. I lunged forward with everything I had left, throwing the full weight of my body behind the silver blade. The metal bit deep. Right through his chest, piercing the space between his ribs. Varek made a sharp gasp. His hand shot out with speed, his thick fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. But he didn't tear my throat out or throw me to the ground. He stared at me. For one agonizing second, we were locked together, inches apart. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and the sharp scent of pine that clung to his skin. His expression wasn't one of rage. That was what scared me most. His eyes widened in shock. His lips parted. He tried to speak, his chest heaving against the steel wedged inside him. “Ivy... you don't...” The words died in his throat, choked out by blood. His grip on my wrist slackened. His knees buckled under him, and the great Rogue Alpha collapsed hard onto the damp earth, rolling onto his side. I stumbled back, gasping for air, staring at my bloody palms. “Varek?” I saw the two other men retreating in fear before turning on their heels. He lay still. The dark crimson pool expanded rapidly beneath him, soaking into his shirt. My instincts as a doctor screamed through the fog of my terror. I couldn't leave him—my training wouldn't allow it. Dropping to my knees beside him, my shaking fingers reached for his neck. I pressed my index and middle fingers firmly into the carotid groove, searching desperately for a pulse. Nothing. I leaned down, placing my cheek near his lips while keeping my eyes fixed on his chest. There was no rise or fall. No breath against my cheek. The amount of blood beneath him was catastrophic. I knew where the blade had entered and what lay beneath it. He was dead. I scrambled backward in horror, my throat closing up. I did that. I killed him. In the distance, the sharp, distinct crack of gunfire shattered the forest silence, followed by the distant roar of heavy engines. Hunter Guild vehicles. They were coming toward the noise. RUN! Elara screamed inside my mind. Ivy, move now or they will slaughter us! I scrambled to my feet, abandoning the emergency kit, and fled blindly into the trees. I ran until my lungs burned like fire, until thorny branches slashed across my face, until my injured knee gave out entirely and I dragged myself into the pitch-black mouth of a hidden stone cave. *** Now, sitting in the freezing darkness of the cave with Varek’s blood drying beneath my fingernails, I stared at my cracked phone screen. A single, weak bar of signal flickered at the top. My trembling thumbs raced across the screen. I couldn't type a message, couldn't explain the horror of what had happened. I simply dropped a precise GPS pin into a blank text message addressed to my father and hit send. The loading wheel spun once. Twice. Then the red text flashed: Delivered. I let the phone slip from my fingers onto the cold rock, buried my face in my knees, and wept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Varek's face. The shock. The utter bewilderment. The way he had said my name as if he knew me. I knew the exact anatomical pathway my knife had taken. I knew the volume of blood loss required to extinguish a life that strong. I had been surviving and defending myself. I would repeat those words until they meant something. All my life, I had trained my hands to save lives. Today, those same hands had taken two. One of them belonged to the most feared Rogue Alpha in the North. Varek was dead. And I was the one who killed him.POV: Ivy The restaurant kept going around us. A server laughed two tables over, glasses clinked, and a candle guttered in its little glass cup. Grayson sat very still across from me, his napkin folded and his hands flat on the cloth, waiting.“I love you,” I said.“I know you do.”“I do, Grayson. I'm not saying it to avoid the question.”“I didn't say you were.” His voice was gentle, which made it worse. “But that isn't what I asked.”“Yes.” The word came out too quickly and then not quickly enough. “I want to marry you. Of course I do.”It landed a beat late, and we both heard it.His eyes dropped to my left hand, to the ring catching the candlelight, and came back up. He didn't look angry. He looked like a man checking a measurement he'd already taken twice.“You hesitated,” he said.“I'm tired. It's been a long week.”“That's what I keep telling myself.” A small, humorless smile. “
POV: Ivy I'd already had a cup of coffee, but three hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough to get me through the day. I walked into the hospital with a phone that hadn't lit up once. Ronan hadn't called back. I'd told myself I didn't care when I checked it at six, and again at seven, and again in the elevator. By the time I reached the ward, I'd stopped pretending. He'd hung up on me, and he hadn't called back. That was the whole message. Grayson's text arrived during rounds.*Good morning, Ivy. Whenever you have a moment, could you let me know when you'd be free to collect a few things you left at my place? No rush.*I read it twice in the corridor, standing beside a medication cart. There was nothing unkind about it. That was what bothered me. No emojis, no familiar joke at the end. It sounded like something he'd send a colleague.I stared at the screen until a nurse called my name.At noon, I called him.“Ivy.” He sounded surprised. “Is everything all right?”“Everything's fine. I j
POV: RonanI'd hung up on Ivy at one in the morning. By dawn, I regretted ending the conversation that way, though I hadn't changed my mind about a word I'd said. By the time I reached the study, I was in no mood to be patient.Damon was already there, his silver hair untidy and his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his blue eyes moving across three documents Elowyn had spread along the table. The forged authorization with my father's signature. The Ashgrave transfer record. The administrative directive that had kept the estate funded and its restrictions in place. Rain tapped steadily against the window.“Sit,” Elowyn said, without looking up. “You're pacing without moving, and it's distracting.”I sat.“Here's what we have,” she said, and tapped each page in turn. “In July 2022, an authorization appears under Cassian's name, months after he died. In August, your custody at Ashgrave is recorded under restrictions that cite that authorization. And this directive,” she touched the third pa
POV: IvyHe didn't answer immediately. Then he looked toward the parking lot.“Not here. Get in the car.”“Ronan.”“I'll give you your answer. I'd rather give it where I don't have to share it.”I knew exactly what he was doing. I unlocked the car anyway. I took the driver's seat, he took the passenger's, and the door closing felt far too much like a decision.“You're a beautiful woman.” His mouth tilted. “So yes, Ivy. Even without the mate bond, you'd drive me crazy. I'd just have taken longer to admit it.”My chest ached. “Wow.”I'd spent the entire evening wondering whether he was falling for me the way I was falling for him. And all he could tell me was that I was beautiful. Was that really his answer?I was still deciding whether to tell him how disappointing that answer was when he leaned across the console. His gaze dropped to my mouth.I should have moved away. Instead, I caught his collar and pulled him closer.He made a low sound against my mouth that went straight through me
POV: Ivy I sent the message from the hospital parking structure, sitting in my car with the engine off and my badge still clipped to my coat. *Are you free tonight? Not for the investigation.* I stared at it for a full minute before I let myself send it. Then I put the phone face-down on the passenger seat and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. I'd told Grayson we needed time to think, and he'd let me leave without another argument. Since then, we've exchanged only careful, polite messages. Neither of us had mentioned the lake. I hadn’t decided what I was doing. I only knew I couldn’t spend another night alone with the question he had left me. The reply came before I had finished exhaling. *Yes. Tell me where.* We met at a diner on the east side, the kind with cracked vinyl booths and a pie case nobody ever emptied. It was nearly nine. The only other customers were a trucker and a couple arguing quietly over a shared plate of fries. Ronan was already in the corner boo
POV: DamonThe Records Annex smelled the way it always did on Mondays: floor wax, old paper, and the faint metallic tang of the dehumidifiers that kept the damp out of the stacks. I had been coming here since I was seventeen. My father used to say a man could learn more about the Council from its filing cabinets than from any of its sessions, and for most of my life I had thought he was joking.I signed the visitor ledger, took the stairs to the second floor, and stopped at the index desk with REG-22-0714-3391 written on my palm with a ballpoint.The administrator on duty was a narrow, careful man named Hollis, who had worked this desk for as long as I could remember and treated every request as if it might be a trap. He pulled the number up on the index terminal without comment and turned the screen toward me.“Received and processed, July 2022,” he said. “Family endorsement, custodial. Accepted by the Registry.”“And the original submission?”He clicked, frowned, and clicked again.







