LOGINI've never snuck into enemy territory in my life. First time for everything, I guess.I didn't go back to my cabin. I went to my car instead, the same one I'd nearly wrecked outrunning Viper bikes weeks ago, and drove into town with a plan forming faster than my better judgment could talk me out of it. Every mile put more distance between me and the argument I'd just walked out of, and every mile also made the reckless shape of what I was about to do feel a little more inevitable.My father had kept a small black notebook in his desk drawer for as long as I could remember — names, numbers, notes in his cramped, practical handwriting that I'd always assumed were just supplier contacts. I'd found it again while going through his things after the funeral, tucked it away without much thought, another artifact of a man I was only beginning to understand I'd never fully known.I found it now exactly where I'd left it, and flipped through the pages until I found a name circled twice in faded
I've patched up bike engines with more calm than I watched him receive that call.The office filled fast — Killian first, then Mara, then a handful of ranked wolves I recognized from the council chamber, each of them arriving with the kind of grim, efficient speed that told me this wasn't the first hostage crisis this pack had weathered, however much dread hung in the room regardless. Someone had already pulled up a territory map, pinning it to the wall with quick, practiced hands, red string marking boundary lines I was only beginning to understand."They want a trade," Killian said, reading off his own phone, jaw tight. "Dax for territory concessions along the eastern boundary. If we don't respond by dawn, they've made it clear what happens next.""We're not giving up territory," Ronan said, already pacing, already calculating in that focused, fast way I'd watched him do once before, the night of the rescue attempt he hadn't yet told me the full story of. "That sets a precedent we c
Turns out adrenaline and a werewolf's mouth are a dangerous combination.We'd fallen into a rhythm over the following days that felt almost dangerously close to normal — training in the mornings, meals at the long table in the evenings, the careful, deliberate work of learning each other in the spaces between crisis and crisis. The pack had settled, too, in its own uneasy way — the elder from the council chamber still cool toward me, but no longer openly hostile, and Mara had started, cautiously, to include me in small conversations she'd previously reserved for pack members only.Tonight, after a training session that had left both of us bruised and breathless in equal measure, we ended up sitting on the porch of my cabin instead of parting ways, a bottle of something Killian had smuggled from the pack's private stock between us, neither of us quite ready to let the evening end."Tell me something true," I said, emboldened by the whiskey and the strange, easy intimacy of the night. "
I've been threatened by men my whole life. This was the first time the threat had feathers.I stood over that dead bird for a long moment after Ronan's warning settled in, feeling something shift inside me that had less to do with fear and more to do with a cold, clarifying anger. I'd spent weeks now being protected, hidden, moved from cabin to compound to backroad like a piece of luggage passed carefully between hands that all agreed I was too fragile to be trusted with my own defense.I thought about the elder in that council chamber, calling me a liability to my face. I thought about every moment since the fire where someone else had decided, on my behalf, what I could handle and what needed to be kept from me for my own good. I was done being managed. If I was going to be a target either way — to Vipers, to hostile wolves, to whatever came next in this war I'd apparently inherited along with a mate bond — I wanted, at the very least, to stop being a helpless one."I'm done being s
Apparently you can hear a hundred werewolves go silent at once. It sounds like the inside of a held breath. The silence after Ronan's declaration stretched long enough that I could hear my own pulse in my ears, could feel the weight of every eye in that hall shifting between the two of us, recalculating something none of them had expected to have to recalculate tonight. Some faces held something close to awe — a few younger wolves near the back, wide-eyed, like they were witnessing something out of the old stories they'd grown up hearing. Others held nothing but cold hostility, the gray-templed elder's expression gone stony and unreadable in a way that promised this fight wasn't actually over, just postponed. I stood there beside Ronan, my heart still hammering from my own speech moments earlier, now hammering harder still at the weight of what he'd just added on top of it. A formal claim. I didn't fully understand yet what that meant in pack terms, only that the reaction rippling th
Nothing says "meet the family" like a room full of armed werewolves debating whether to kill you or protect you.The pack council chamber was nothing like I'd expected — not some medieval throne room, but a long, plain hall with rough-hewn benches and a fire pit at its center, packed wall to wall with wolves who'd clearly dropped whatever they'd been doing the moment word of the Viper declaration reached them. Killian had walked me in himself, one hand steady at my back, though I noticed he stayed close to the door, like some part of him expected he might need to get me out fast.The air itself felt charged, thick with the particular tension of a room full of people who'd rather be doing anything except sitting through this conversation. I recognized a few faces from that first dinner weeks ago — the healer who'd offered me a second helping of stew, the young man who'd asked about rain — though none of them met my eyes now, too caught up in the gravity of whatever debate had been ragi







