LOGINI sniffle, wiping at my face with one hand while still holding Trouble with the other, and try to pull myself together. It's not working. My voice comes out thick and wobbly when I speak, and I hate how small I sound. "He's okay?"Thorne's expression softens, the amusement fading into something gentler, and he pushes off the door frame, stepping into the bathroom properly. His eyes flick down to Trouble, who has finally stopped wriggling and is now glaring at me with the kind of betrayed that only a cat can muster. "He's okay, Emma too," Thorne confirms, his voice steady and sure. "But please, put him down before he claws your eyes out."I do as I'm told, setting Trouble gently on the floor, and he shakes himself off with an affronted huff before turning his attention to my legs. His rough little tongue starts licking at the water droplets clinging to my skin, and the sensation is so absurdly normal, so perfectly mundane, that I feel another wave of tears threatening to spill over.
The water's been running so long my skin's gone soft and wrinkled. My fingers are pruned, the pads of them white and puckered, and when I press them together they feel strange, foreign, like they belong to someone else. Could have been an hour, three. For all I know I've been standing here for months, letting the spray beat down on my shoulders. The heat of the water has turned the bathroom into a sauna, steam curling thick in the air, clinging to every surface, fogging up the glass walls of the shower until the world beyond is nothing but blurred shapes and muted light. As soon as I woke up all I could think about was slipping into this glorious shower. That's another lost piece of time, I have no clue how long I slept. Time's become this slippery, unreliable thing that I can't seem to hold onto, and standing here under the endless cascade of water is the only thing that feels real, the only thing that anchors me to the present moment.The never-ending nausea clawing at my insides
I push some of my energy into her. Just the finest thread at first, testing, feeling my way through the broken landscape of her body. Fae energy moves through her like water, seeking out the places where she's damaged. What I find makes my jaw clench. Her pelvis is shattered alright, the bones fractured in ways that are going to take months to heal, and I can sense the torn tissue around it, inflammation, her body trying desperately to repair itself and failing. Her ribs are cracked, not broken but close. There's bruising deep in the muscle, still bleeding from tiny tears and will hurt like hell for weeks. I can feel the pain radiating from every injury, sharp and relentless. It takes everything I have not to pull my hand back and scorch the city with my vengeance alone. I can't heal her. That's not my gift.Healing’s delicate work, precise, and it's not my gift. As much as I want to, I cannot give her that. The call is already out though. I have an exceptionally skilled cousin who
This hospital chair’s uncomfortable as fuck, which seems fitting given that everything else about this situation is equally unbearable. My body’s folded into this plastic and metal monstrosity that was very clearly designed by a moron who’s never sat in a chair before. Hours I've been sat here, the whole time my hands clasped together so tightly in front of me that my knuckles have long gone white. The pressure of keeping them locked together like this is the only thing stopping me from putting my fist through the wall, or the window, or the face of whoever did this to her. Earlier, the trembling started in my fingers, it’s since worked its way up through my wrists, my forearms, and settled in my shoulders where it’s a coiled, living, breathing thing. Fear isn’t my thing, this is rage. Pure, distilled, barely contained rage. It’s taking every ounce of control I have to keep it from spilling over into something catastrophic.Emma lies in the bed in front of me, and the sight of her
Logan nods slowly, his expression grim. "Alright. But we do this my way. No running off half-cocked, no tearing the city apart until we have a plan. Agreed?"I want to argue, want to tell him to fuck off and let me handle this my way, but I know he's right. Cain's been planning this for too long, and if I go in blind, I'll just make things worse. So I nod, even though it feels like swallowing glass."Agreed," I say. "Right now, I need to focus on her. Make sure she's safe. Then we'll deal with Cain."Logan's expression softens slightly, and he nods. "Fair enough. We'll regroup in the morning. For now, just... be there for her. She needs you."Bam's jaw tightens, his hand curling into a fist on the table. The casual ease he had moments ago evaporates, replaced by something harder, more focused."So what's the play?" he asks.I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table, my mind already working through the possibilities, the strategies, the ways to turn this around and make Cain regre
Bam looks up, his brow furrowing in confusion."What is it then?" he asks.Logan glances at me, then back at Bam, his voice taking on that lecturing tone he gets when he's explaining something he finds fascinating. There's a precision to it, the way he breaks things down into their component parts."A familiar," he says. "Bound to someone, probably Maci or someone in her bloodline. They can communicate through energy, act as protectors or messengers, and they're a hell of a lot smarter than any normal animal. I tried to reach out to it, and it pushed back. Gave me one word."He pauses, his eyes locking onto mine."Cain," he says.The name lands like a punch to the gut, and I feel the wolf stir, a low growl rumbling in my chest before I can stop it. Cain. Of course it's Cain. It's always Cain. My brother, the snake, the one who's been circling the council for years, waiting for his chance to strike, to take what he thinks should be his. I should have known. Should have seen it coming.
Oh my god, I made it.Home. After a day that felt like it might stretch into eternity, I didn't think I'd actually get here. The door clicks shut behind me, and I drop my bag onto the kitchen counter with a stretch and a sigh. The dull thud echoes through the too-quiet apartment, breaking the silen
'Hey Maci, qanna grab that drink Friday? Let me know :) – Luke'The buzz of the office hums a background track to my spiralling thoughts as I stare at the message on my phone. My inbox overflows with unanswered emails, deadlines loom like storm clouds, but instead of tackling any of it, I'm here, r
Somewhere between my second coffee and deciding to violate three international privacy laws, it hits me: I hate being wrong.The thought doesn't even have time to settle before I'm elbow-deep in another council archive, scrolling because my sanity depends on it. I'm not just hunting for proof, I'm
There he is, stood just ahead, his form flickering like a worn-out projection.He looks the same as always, tired, worn, but determined. The dagger that haunts every one of my dream is in his hands again. The silver blade gleams, the moonlight catching the etched hilt, illuminating the crescent moo







