Finley
I stare out the car window as we pass the "Welcome to Glass Lake" sign, my stomach doing that weird flippy thing it always does when I know I'll be seeing Liam soon. You'd think after eighteen years of friendship, I'd be over this schoolgirl crush. But apparently my wolf, Nova, hasn't gotten the memo.
Just friends, I remind myself for the thousandth time. That's all we'll ever be.
"Cheer up, birthday girl," my brother Rhett says, nudging my shoulder from the backseat. "You look like you're heading to a funeral instead of your own party."
I force a smile, though it probably looks more like a grimace. "I just don't see why we had to celebrate here. All my friends are back home."
"The Stones, Crosses, and Kanes have been coming to our place for your birthday every year since you were born," Mom chimes in from the front seat, her tone gentle but leaving no room for argument. "It's our turn to visit them, sweetheart. These summer gatherings are tradition."
She's right, of course. Our families have been gathering like this for as long as I can remember – the Stones with their Alpha bloodline, the Crosses whose daughter is the new Luna of Glass Lake, the Kanes who've been their trusted Gammas for generations, and us Bennetts. Pack rank never seemed to matter during these visits. We were just family.
"Besides," Dad adds, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror, "Liam specifically asked if you could celebrate here this year."
My heart does that stupid little stutter it always does at the mention of his name. Liam Stone – youngest son of the former Alpha, notorious troublemaker, and the boy I've been half in love with since I was old enough to know what love was.
Nova stirs restlessly under my skin. “Calm down,” I tell her. “It's just Liam.”
But even as I think it, I know something feels different this time. Maybe it's because I'm finally eighteen, officially of age in pack terms. Maybe it's the way Nova keeps pacing in my mind, more agitated than usual. Or maybe it's the strange tension that's been building in my chest for the past few days, like the air before a storm.
"Did he say why?" I try to keep my voice casual, but Rhett's knowing smirk tells me I've failed miserably.
"Nope." He pops the 'p' with annoying emphasis. "But Ryleigh's been helping with the planning."
And just like that, my momentary flutter of hope crashes. Right. Ryleigh Kane. Former gamma's daughter, sweet as honey, and Liam's unofficial girlfriend for the past year. I've seen the way he looks at her – like she hung the moon and stars.
Nova whines, and I push down the familiar ache in my chest. I'm being ridiculous. Liam is my friend, one of my best friends. I should be happy he's found someone who makes him smile like that, who helps quiet the insecurities he tries so hard to hide behind his jokes.
"We're here," Dad announces as we pull up to the imposing Stone mansion.
The sight of it still takes my breath away, even after all these years. Three stories of gray stone and gleaming windows rise before us, perfectly framed by ancient oaks that have guarded the property for generations. White columns line the wraparound porch where we spent countless summer evenings as kids, telling ghost stories and planning adventures.
I catch glimpses of silver and white decorations through the windows, and my stomach twists. I've never been one for big celebrations, preferring small gatherings with close friends. But I know this party is as much about pack tradition as it is about my birthday. Eighteen is when we're considered adults in wolf terms, old enough to accept a mate bond if fate decides to present one.
Nova perks up at that thought, and I quickly shut it down. The last thing I need is to get my hopes up about mate bonds, especially with Liam so clearly spoken for.
I take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders as we get out of the car. The late afternoon sun catches the lake beyond the house, turning it into a sheet of molten gold. The air is thick with the scents of pine and wild roses, and underneath it all, the familiar markers of Glass Lake pack – earth and water and ancient magic.
And then another scent hits me, one I would know anywhere. Rainwater and cedar and something wild that always makes Nova want to run straight toward it.
"Finally!" Liam's voice booms across the driveway. "I thought you guys were going to miss all the fun."
I turn, and there he is, jogging down the front steps with that crooked grin that never fails to make my heart skip. His blonde hair catches the sunlight like spun gold, a gift from his mother's side, and those bright blue eyes dance with their usual mischief. But there's something else there too, something that makes Nova suddenly go very still.
He reaches for me, and the moment his arms wrap around me in our usual hug, everything changes.
The world tilts on its axis. My skin buzzes where we touch, and Nova surges forward with a force that nearly brings me to my knees. Liam goes rigid against me, his arms tightening almost painfully as a low growl rumbles through his chest.
Mate.
The word echoes through my mind, through my soul, with the force of a thunderclap. Every cell in my body sings with recognition, with rightness, with Mine.
And then Liam jerks away like I've burned him, his eyes wide and panicked. The sudden loss of contact feels like being doused in ice water.
"I... I need to..." He stumbles backward, his usual smooth confidence nowhere to be seen. "Ryleigh's waiting. For the... the decorations."
He turns and practically runs back into the house, leaving me standing there with my world simultaneously exploding into perfect clarity and shattering into pieces.
Because in that moment, I know two things with absolute certainty: Liam Stone is my fated mate.
And by the look in his eyes, he is going to reject me.
RhettThe federal courthouse in Denver is surrounded by media trucks and protesters carrying signs that read everything from "Justice for Enhanced Individuals" to "Government Accountability Now." Dr. Gorian's trial has become a lightning rod for public debate about the Enhanced Individual Research Act, and today is the day I testify about what they did to my pregnant mate.The thought still sends rage through me so intense that Kian paces restlessly beneath my skin, demanding violence against everyone who participated in Brynlee's torture."Remember," Harper says as we approach the courthouse steps, "stick to facts, stay calm, and let your testimony speak for itself. The jury needs to see the human cost of this program, not just the legal violations. And they certainly don’t need a reason to think our kind deserve to be locked away."Right. I can do that. Brynlee's fractured ability to trust reality, her constant need to verify that our life is genuine, the weeks of careful healing re
BrynleeAfter the appointment, grocery shopping feels almost normal. Rhett pushes the cart while I navigate our usual list, both of us automatically coordinating around each other's movements in ways that speak to years of shared domestic routine.Muscle memory, I think, watching how naturally we fall into familiar patterns. Our bodies remember how to be together even when my mind questions everything."Rhett," I say suddenly, stopping in the middle of the cereal aisle. "Can I touch you?"The request catches him off guard, and I see him struggling not to read too much into it while trying to respect whatever boundaries I need."Of course," he says carefully. "However you want, whenever you want."However you want, whenever you want. No pressure, no expectations, just permission to reconnect physically at whatever pace feels safe.I reach out and place my hand flat against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his shirt. Real pulse, real warmth, real presence th
Brynlee Three weeks home, and I'm finally starting to believe that some things are too detailed, too emotionally complex, too perfectly imperfect to be made up.Like the way Rhett makes coffee every morning—not the careful, precise measurements that a programmed simulation would use, but the slightly haphazard approach of someone who's still half-asleep. One morning too strong, the next morning too weak, always accompanied by soft cursing when he can't find his favorite mug.Real people have inconsistencies, I tell myself, watching him search through cabinets for the ceramic mug Maya made him last Father's Day. Fabrications would be more polished."Found it," he says with satisfaction, producing the lopsided mug that says "World's Best Daddy" in five-year-old handwriting.The genuine pleasure in his voice over something so mundane sends warmth through me that I'm finally learning to trust. Dr. Gorian's lies were sophisticated, but they focused on dramatic emotional moments rather tha
Rhett "I'm going to try very hard to stay home forever," Brynlee tells Maya honestly. "But sometimes I might feel confused or scared because of what the bad people did to me. When that happens, I need you to be patient and remind me that we're safe."She's asking our five-year-old daughter to help anchor her to reality when her own mind can't be trusted. I dig my nails into my palms, the biting pain a reminder not to give in to the need to roar in frustration. Maya nods with the seriousness she brings to important responsibilities. "I can do that. I've been taking care of Daddy while you were gone, so I know how to take care of people who are sad."The innocent observation reminds me that Maya has been watching me struggle through grief and desperation for the past two weeks, learning that adults need care too sometimes."I brought you something," Maya announces, producing the garden drawing she's been clutching. "I drew new pictures of our vegetable garden, but I added a nursery se
RhettThe emergency room at Denver General is chaos when we arrive—media crews trying to get statements, federal agents attempting damage control, and medical staff struggling to process twelve individuals who've been subjected to systematic psychological torture.But all of that fades to background noise when I see Brynlee sitting on an examination table, allowing a doctor to check her vital signs while she stares at her hands like she's still not entirely convinced they're real.Two weeks, I think with rage that threatens to overwhelm my need to be supportive. Two weeks of systematic psychological destruction that might take months or years to heal completely."Mr. Bennett?" Dr. Martinez—not the federal agent who took Brynlee, but a trauma specialist who's been briefed on what our people endured—approaches with the kind of careful expression that means she has news I won't want to hear."How is she?" I ask."Physically, better than expected. The pregnancy is progressing normally desp
Brynlee"I don't know how to tell if you're real," I repeat, the words coming out broken and desperate. "Dr. Gorian made me watch videos that felt completely genuine. He showed me footage of you moving on with someone else, and it was perfect in every detail. He made me believe Maya was calling another woman Mommy."Even saying it aloud sends fresh agony through me because some part of my mind still wonders if that footage was real."None of that was real," Rhett says with absolute conviction. "Maya has been asking for you every single day. She sleeps with pictures of the garden you two planned because she's waiting for you to come home and plant tomatoes with her."That makes sense. Maya's excitement about vegetables and flowers, her careful drawings of where everything should go, the future we were planning together before government agents turned our family upside down."She drew new pictures after you were taken," Rhett continues. "Pictures of the three of us in the garden, except