LOGINSera“The brine needs refreshing,” she said, her voice returning to that clinical, detached rasp. “Go. Join your husband. The elders are waiting.”I didn't answer. I didn't offer a smile. I turned and walked out of the room, the iron door heavy against my palm.The corridor was dim. The grease lamps flickered, throwing long, distorted shadows against the stone. I started walking, my heart hammering a rhythm that pounded against my ribs. Every step made the heavy wool of the trousers rub against my thighs. I could perceive the wetness there—not from arousal this time, but from the cold, oily sweat of a different kind of fear.I rounded the corner to the Alpha’s level.Fenris was standing at the end of the hall. He was leaning against the stone archway near the balcony, staring out at the grey morning sky. He still had the black ash on his jaw. He appeared massive, a silhouette of iron and fur that owned the very air he breathed.He heard my boots. He didn't turn around, but I saw his s
Sera"I'm sorry, what?"The laugh that came out of me was a jagged, ugly thing that hit the damp stone walls of the cellar and flatlined. My hand was still trapped in Madra's grip, her fingers like dry, cold bird talons digging into the skin of my wrist. I didn't pull back. I leaned in until I could see the yellowed film over her eyes."The brine is getting to your head, Madra," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh scrape. "I'm barren. My father made that clear years ago. My previous mate confirmed it for three years with every month my body failed to do its job. I am an Omega who couldn't even provide a single heir to a backwater pack. So don't stand there and tell me jokes."Madra didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. She held my stare with a terrifying, clinical stillness."I do not tell jokes, Luna. I deal in the meat and the blood. And your blood is singing a different tune than the one you were told."She tightened her grip. The ache in my wrist was a sharp, localized throb."I
JaceThe border market was a sensory overload. There were no neon signs here. No music playing from hidden speakers. Just the sound of five hundred voices haggling over the price of salt, the rhythmic clink of a blacksmith’s hammer, and the heavy, earthy smell of the pack. The market was neutral ground. The South provided grain and textiles. The North provided iron, pelts, and the kind of hard-grade timber that didn't rot.I adjusted the strap of my satchel. I wasn't here for timber. I was here for a bridge.Mistwood was strangling Blackwater. They’d moved in like a parasite, taxing our merchants and taking forty percent of our timber cut. Kane was a mess, drowning in the vacuum his ex had left behind. I needed a threat. I needed a whisper in the right ear to make Mistwood realize that Blackwater had friends they couldn't handle.I started walking down the central aisle. The mud was thick, sticking to the soles of my shoes. I saw a group of Northern warriors sitting on a pile of crate
JaceI sighed. I looked toward the Northern Soldiers. Even with the crowd moving around, they were impossible to miss. They were just that tall."What are you here for, really?" the guard asked again."I told you. I'm seeing a friend in Ironmaw."The border market was a symbol of the treaty. Travelers had to pass through it. It was neutral ground, but the rules were strictly Northern."I'll let you in," the guard said, pointing a thumb toward a small, narrow gate. "But if you love yourself and you don't want trouble, you'll take heed. Ditch the clothing. Wash off that reek."I looked at the small gate. Then at the main entrance where the mastiffs stood. I wasn't an Alpha. I didn't have a crest to show, mainly because I’d told Kane I didn't want it. I wanted to come in lowkey. I wanted to find my friend first. It had been years since I’d seen her. If I showed a crest, the guards would immediately yank me to the Alpha's audience hall. I didn't want that. Not yet. I wanted to spend time
Jace"Identification."The word came out as a short, wet bark. I stopped. I didn't reach for my wallet. A wallet is a human habit that gets you a confused stare or a knife in the throat this far north. I kept my hands visible, fingers spread, and stared at the guard. He was a wall of unwashed wool and scarred leather, his chest wide enough to block the entire pedestrian entrance. He didn't look at my face. He looked at my shirt. I was wearing a white button-down, pressed, the kind that costs more than a month of rations in a border town."Jace," I said. My voice sounded too clean in the cold air. "Blackwater Pack."The guard didn't move. He breathed in, a long, noisy pull of air that made his nostrils flare. He was looking for the scent of the East, for the damp mulch and the river-silt of my home. He found it, but then his brow pinched. He caught the top note. Bergamot and sandalwood. It was an expensive blend I’d picked up in a boutique in Atlanta three months ago. To him, I probabl
I watched Torin.The brine had moved with the small currents in the bath when the door had opened, and the surface had settled again, and what I had in front of me was a man in pieces under a layer of yellow water. The left arm was gone at the shoulder. The right arm was whole below the elbow, but the elbow itself was a flat working joint with hide grown back over the moving parts — Madra's work, slow patient layers laid down across. The chest was not the chest of a man who had been intact a month ago. There were sections of the ribcage that had been taken and the skin had been pulled across the gap and stitched to the meat under. The legs below the water were the things I did not let myself study for long. The legs were the part Madra had not been allowed to heal, because she needed to keep specific channels open for the brine to work, and what was under his waist did not have a name in any anatomy I had been taught.The face above the strap was almost whole. The face had been prese
FenrisThe leather bag was old. It was cracked in several places, leaking thin streams of sand onto the stone floor every time I hit it. The heavy chains groaned, a high-pitched metallic scrape that echoed in the small, windowless space. This was the belly of the mountain, a place the torches barel
Sera"It’s getting pretty hot in here," Mina said.The shawl hit the floor before I could catch it. I immediately pulled my arms across my chest, hunched forward to hide the plunge of the neckline. Fenris’s eyes didn't just look at me; they felt like they were stripping away the last of the silk. I
SeraNight fell fast, and with it, the temperature plummeted. We had three fires going, but the heat didn't seem to travel more than six inches past the flames. I sat on a log by the middle fire, pulling the wagon fur around my shoulders, shivering so hard my teeth were literally clicking together.
Sera“What just happened?”"Forced healing takes fuel," Yvara explained. She paced in front of me. "It pulls energy directly from your reserves. It burns calories at a massive rate. In a battle of attrition, this will keep you alive, but it will also kill you if you aren't careful. You just got the







