LOGINDear lovely readers, thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing this book. Just a small reminder that your gems expire at the end of the month, so if you’ve been enjoying the story and feel generous, dropping those gems before they disappear would mean so much and help the book reach more readers. I truly appreciate you. 💖
**Stella's POV** Meanwhile on the other side of town, sleep never comes. I lie in the dark staring at the ceiling as I count the hours the way you count them when you are desperate for them to move faster and they refuse.There are moving slowly, one by one, each one heavier than the last. The apartment is quiet. Noah is down the hall sleeping the deep uncomplicated sleep of a pup who doesn't yet know that his sister is missing. Riley is on the sofa, I can hear her breathing from here. And I am lying in my bed thinking about Maya.Is she sleeping or awake because she is too scared of the people that took her??? I press the back of my hand against my mouth and breathe through it. I think about the last time I saw her and regret how I let everything play out. She is my daughter and I let her down as a mother, she probably hates me more now...No, I won't be negative Nancy. I close my eyes and try to sleep but I can't. I'm just staring at the ceiling in regret as the hours mo
**Shawn's POV** 'You could have left them on when we left the house this morning,' my wolf slurs in my head, the words thick and drunken. I ignore him. I didn’t leave them on. I’m certain of it even though I'm drunk, yes. I never leave lights on when I leave a space. It's an old habit. One of many beaten into me so early that they stopped feeling like habits and became instinct. Someone is definitely in my apartment. 'Then let's see who’s inside,' my wolf growls immediately—a low, coiled tension in my chest that doesn’t wait for permission. He is ready before I have made a decision.... Whoever—or whatever—is in there won’t enjoy the next thirty seconds if I let him out. But I stop myself. I live in a human neighbourhood. On a public street. With the alcohol still warm in my blood and my control less reliable than I'd like it to be. It's not ideal conditions for shifting. I scan the entrance and then notice that there is no signs of forced entry. No broken glass. No
**Shawn's POV** “My brother died four years ago,” Abigail says solemnly. “In a car accident on a road he knew well… because he had too much to drink and decided he was fine to drive himself anyway.” She holds my gaze the entire time she says this. “He was twenty-six,” she continues. “He caused the accident. Didn’t hurt anyone else. Just himself…” Tears well in her eyes before she pauses, steadying herself. “I got the call at two fifteen in the morning telling me he was gone.” The bar is deafening around us—music pounding, glasses clinking, laughter spilling from every corner. Yet somehow, in the middle of all that noise, her words land with a quiet weight. I say nothing because now I understand her insistence to drive me home. “I saw you from across the room tonight,” she adds. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what kind of day you’ve had, or what you’re sitting here drinking about.” Her eyes stay fixed on mine. “But I know what a man looks like when he’s drinking
**Shawn's POV** I look at Abigail. She looks right back at me, chin lifted, keys already in her hand. There’s a calm certainty in her expression—the look of someone who has already made a decision and is simply waiting for me to catch up. Who the hell is this woman… and why does she smell familiar? I inhale at her scent again, subtle enough that no human wouldn’t notice me. Still nothing. Her scent sits at the edge of my mind, irritatingly out of reach. Not a memory exactly… more like the feeling of one. Like a word on the tip of my tongue that refuses to be spoken. I frown. “Listen, lady,” I say finally. “I appreciate the gesture. But I don’t need a babysitter.” “Good,” she replies immediately. “Because I’m not offering to babysit you.” She jingles the keys once. “I’m offering to drive you home so you don’t wrap yourself around a lamppost on the way out of the parking lot.” I scoff, shaking my head at her stubbornness. “If that’s your concern,” I say dryly, “I’ll take a
**Shawn's POV** “Are you alright?” Ezekiel says into the phone. A pause follows, making me wonder what Stella just told him. He listens quietly, his fingers idly tapping the rim of his glass. “Of course. Tell me.” Another pause—longer this time—and the faint amusement on his face slowly drains away. Something sharper replaces it. Whatever she’s saying… it has his full attention. My grip tightens around my glass. What is she telling him??? “How long?” he asks and then silence again. “Five years old,” His voice remains level, but something beneath it has shifted. “Near the Black River territories.” He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a pen, and scribbles something down on a napkin. “Send me a picture—the best one you have—to this number. I’ll run it through my system tonight.” Another pause. “Yes,” he says after a moment. “I will find her, Stella. You have my word.” His tone softens just slightly. “Don’t thank me yet. Send the picture. And get some rest.
**Shawn's POV** (Meanwhile on the other side of the city...) The human bar is packed and deafening with music and drunken laughter blending into a constant roar that makes it nearly impossible to think. That’s exactly why I chose it after the mess of a day Dmitri caused, I needed noise—something loud enough to drown out my thoughts while I sit at the counter, staring down at the glass in front of me. The bartender has already refilled it eleven times, yet the amber liquid still looks untouched as it reflects the dim lights above the bar. I swirl it slowly, pretending I’m focused on the drink. In truth, I’m trying very hard to think about nothing. But it’s useless. Every time I blink, the same image flashes behind my eyes—the explosion, the flames, Stella’s fragile body lying far too still, I thought she died and that clawed at something inside my chest. Something I believed died along with the last member of my family. 'Well,' my wolf’s voice rumbles inside my he







