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Neva’s POV
Tomorrow I turn eighteen, and I am cursed to share the day with the three wolves who have made my life a misery.
In Nightpine Pack, no one remembers my birthday. They remember the Kane triplets. Dorian, Cassian, and Lucian, the pride of the whole pack, born on the eleventh of November just like me, except the whole world stops for their day and no one has ever once stopped for mine. Tomorrow they turn twenty-one and ascend as our new Alphas. Tomorrow I turn eighteen and shift for the first time. Only one of those things matters to anyone here.
I slid out of my cot before sunrise, the way I do every morning. My room is a converted storage closet off the kitchen. The shelf above my head still holds the spare cleaning supplies, because the girl who scrubs this pack house should sleep near her mop.
I was nine when my parents went rogue and vanished, leaving nothing behind but a mountain of debt. The Kanes took me in the way you take in a stray you intend to make useful. Food, a cot, and a ledger of everything I owe. I have spent nine years working it off in cooked meals and scrubbed floors and swallowed pride. Seven more months, until I finish school and turn eighteen for real in the eyes of the law, and the debt clears. Then I am gone from Nightpine forever.
I pulled my pale hair into a tight knot so no one could grab it, and I went to make breakfast for a family that has never made anything for me.
The kitchen was the only warm place I had. I had the bacon crackling and the coffee poured when I heard them thunder down the stairs, three sets of heavy feet, three booming voices shoving at each other like pups half their age.
Cassian swept in first. The middle brother, the loud one, always performing. He plucked a strip of bacon from the pan and yelped when it burned his fingers, then grinned like he had meant to do it. “Smells good, Charity.”
Charity. Not my name. My name is Neva. They started calling me Charity as a joke when I was nine, a jab at the debt and the pity of it, and they said it so often that half the pack forgot I was ever called anything else. I stopped correcting them years ago.
Then Cassian reached out and tugged my hair tie loose, and my knot came tumbling down around my shoulders.
“Give it back,” I said.
He tossed it to Dorian instead.
Dorian caught it without looking. The eldest, the cold one, the one who will rule. Where Cassian fills a room with noise, Dorian empties it. He looked at me, then at the breakfast, like both were chores he was tired of, and he slid my hair tie into his pocket where I could not reach it.
“You are slow this morning,” he said. “The house will be spotless before the party. All of it.”
“It will be.”
“It had better be.”
Lucian came last. The youngest. He set a stack of plates on the counter without being asked, which from a Kane is nearly a miracle. “Morning, Neva,” he said quietly.
He is the only one who ever uses my real name. I never let it show how much that small thing lands, because a scrap of kindness from a Kane is still a Kane.
They shoved me back and forth between them for a while, laughing, playing catch with a girl instead of a ball, until Lucian muttered that they would be late and they lost interest. By the time I finished the dishes, the three of them had eaten everything but one cold pancake.
I reached for it. I had not eaten.
Cassian’s hand shot out and took it first, fast as only an Alpha can move.
“You will thank me later,” he said around a mouthful, looking me up and down. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that figure before your big shift.”
I said nothing. I have a vow. I made it the year I turned ten, after crying almost every day of my ninth year. I will never let a Kane make me cry again. I have kept it for eight years, and I was not going to break it over a pancake.
School was worse only because it was louder. Nightpine High was strung end to end with silver and blue, every banner screaming the names of the three boys who already had everything. Tomorrow at midnight I would have my first shift, and if the old stories were true, I might catch the scent of my fated mate somewhere in the crowd at the ascension party.
I told myself I did not care. Werewolves meet their mates at eighteen, and mine could be anyone, and it did not matter, because in seven months I would be leaving him behind with everything else. I was not trading one cage for another. Not even a cage that loved me.
The one good hour of my day was math. Mr. Hale slid my test onto my desk with a wink. “Top of the year again, Frost.” For a moment I felt like a whole person, worth more than my hands.
The feeling did not survive the hallway.
Two girls stopped me at my locker after last bell. Mara and Tess, the pack’s reigning beauties, glossy and matched and usually too important to see me. Today they saw me.
“You know,” Mara said, tilting her head, “you’re not actually hideous, Charity. Under all of that.”
“With money,” Tess added, studying me like a problem, “she’d be dangerous.”
I did not understand the look they traded. Mara pulled the tie from my hair, and my pale waves spilled loose, and both girls went quiet in a way I had never heard from them.
“Big shift tonight,” Mara said, suddenly sweet. “Same as the triplets. You’ll be at the party.”
“I’ll be serving at the party,” I corrected.
“Then let us do you a favor.” She smiled. “A birthday makeover. A real dress. A mask. For one night, no one would even know it’s you.”
That last part caught in me, sharp and bright.
No one would even know it’s you.
For one night, I could walk through that hall and not be the charity girl. I could be a guest. A stranger. Anyone. On the one birthday of my life that someone had actually noticed, I could feel, just once, like I was worth looking at.
“What’s the catch?” I asked, because there is always a catch.
“You’re the smartest girl in school,” Tess said. “We have a make-up assignment we’ll never pass. You do it. We make you beautiful. Even trade.”
I should have said no. I knew better than to owe anyone in this pack anything.
But tomorrow was my birthday, and no one would remember, and I was so tired of being no one.
“Deal,” I heard myself say.
Mara’s smile widened, and for just a moment, before she smoothed it away, it did not look like kindness at all.
Cassian's POVI was sick three times before dawn.It was not a fever. Marlow had examined me twice and told me that my body was perfectly sound. It was the other kind of sickness, the kind that comes from knowing a thing too large to swallow. I knelt on the cold tiles of Selene's upstairs bathroom with my forehead against the porcelain, and I thought, over and over, the same single sentence.I stood on a balcony and called her a mop.I had been telling myself for three years that I had done it because I was a coward. A boy with a crowd at his back and a title in his hands, who had reached for the cheapest laugh. That was a sin I could carry. I had built a whole penance around it. But I had not understood the scale of what I was carrying.At three in the morning I washed my face, and put on yesterday's shirt, and went down to the war room, and took the red marker from the tray on the long table. Then I stood in front of the blank board at the end of the room, where Neva had written her
Neva's POVMarlow knew the word before she finished reading the first receipt.I watched it happen. We were gathered in Selene's kitchen at seven in the morning, around the scarred table, with the gray light spilling through the window and Dorian's iron box open in the center. He had driven through the night. He still wore yesterday's shirt, dusty at the knees, and there was a long smear of oilcloth grease across his cheekbone that I had not yet had the courage to wipe away. Cassian had come south at dawn, hollow eyed, and Lucian sat beside me with his shoulder pressed against mine and Rowan's stuffed rabbit in his lap.Marlow had put on her spectacles. She picked up the first slip of cream paper in her thin old hands, and read it, and every drop of color went out of her face."Silverroot," she said."You know it.""I know it very well." She set the receipt down as if it were hot. "I have used it. I have measured it with my
Dorian's POVKieran Moonvale left Nightpine at dawn without the children.I learned it from Cassian over the phone, in a flat shaken voice, standing in the kitchen of Selene's house with a cold cup in my hands and Lucian's eyes on my face. The Hand had sat across a table from his sister until nearly four in the morning. When he rose, he had said only that he would return in seven days, and that he would expect an answer. He had not taken the writ out of his coat again. He had not said why.Neva would not tell me what had passed between them. She came home that afternoon pale and silent, with shadows under her eyes like thumbprints, and went straight up to the nursery, and sat on the floor between the two small beds for three hours without a word. When I tried to touch her shoulder, she covered my hand with hers, very gently, and said only, "Not now. Please. I will tell you when I can say it."So I did the one thing I knew how to do.
Neva's POVI asked him to sit with me, and to my astonishment he agreed."Alone," I said, on the steps, with the torches guttering and every kneeling wolf in the courtyard still bent to the stones. "Not in a hall. Not in a council chamber. At a table, with a cup of tea, like two people.""I should like that very much." The pleasant voice had come back, polished and smooth. "It is a long drive."Cassian caught my arm as I turned. "Neva. He is the Hand. You cannot be alone with him.""I know exactly what he is." I laid my fingers over his, and felt the leashed heat of him, the whole large frightened body of him braced between me and the dark. I let my thumb press once into the center of his palm. "He will not touch me. And I want to know."His throat worked. He nodded, and let go, and the heat of his hand lingered on my wrist long after he had stepped back.I took him to the one room in Nightpine where I had never been
Neva's POVI was still standing in Rourke's stripped study, with the word eyes ringing in my ears, when the horn sounded at the gate.It was not an alarm. It was a long, low, formal note, the kind Nightpine's sentries blew only for an arrival of rank, and it rolled through the old house like a bell. Cassian was moving before it had finished. I heard his boots in the corridor and the clatter of the guards falling in behind him, and I went after them, down the black pine staircase and across the great hall where six hundred wolves had risen to their feet only the day before.The front doors stood open on the cold blue dusk. A single long black car waited at the foot of the steps. And in the courtyard, in the light of a dozen torches, every sentry and servant and warrior of Nightpine was kneeling.I stopped on the top step. Cassian's hand closed around my wrist, hard and warm. He did not look at me. He was staring at the car, and his jaw was
Neva's POVThey made him Alpha by acclamation.I heard it from Hild on the phone before I had even finished my morning coffee. Six hundred wolves on their feet, hammering their fists against the tables, and then one by one, from the elders down to the youngest warrior, going down on one knee. Cassian Kane, rankless, disowned, the boy who had laughed on a balcony, standing in the center of the hall with tears running openly down his face.I drove north that afternoon, with Dorian's analyst in the passenger seat and the folder of the second audit in my lap. I told myself I was going to question Rourke.Cassian met me at the gate.He stood alone on the stone steps in the late light, hatless, in a plain black coat, with the great iron doors open behind him. He looked taller than I remembered. He looked, somehow, older. It was in the set of his shoulders, in the way he did not shift his weight or reach for a grin. When I stepped out of







