LOGINLogan 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.
I haven't eaten in days. Not properly at all since she left. The thought of food made me nauseous, the idea of sitting down and going through the motions of a meal felt absurd when every cell in my body was screaming at me to find her, to fix this, to bring her back. But now the bond is here, humming quietly in the back of my mind, and my body is finally catching up to the fact that it needs fuel if I'm going to keep functioning. I stab the fork into the lasagna and take a bite, the flavours exploding on my tongue after days of nothing. It's so good. Lucy outdid herself, and I find myself taking another bite, and then another, the act of eating becoming mechanical, something to focus on while my mind continues to churn through everything that's happened. The guilt’s there, sat heavy on my chest. With every bite I take it grows, more insistent, demanding that I acknowledge it, that I face it head-on instead of shoving it down the way I've been doing for weeks now. This is my fault.
She's finally still. Finally quiet. The trembling that wracked her body for the better part of an hour has subsided into something that looks almost like peace, though I know better than to trust it. Maci lies in my bed, her face turned toward the window where the first hints of dawn are starting to creep across the sky, painting everything in shades of grey and pale gold. Her breathing’s steady now, deep and even, the kind of sleep that comes after the body has simply given up trying to hold itself together. I've tucked the duvet around her carefully, making sure she's warm, making sure nothing can touch her while she's this vulnerable. The cool cloth I've been using to soothe the swelling around her eyes sits in a bowl of water on the night stand, her beautiful face is still faintly pink from where her tears mixed with the exhaustion written into every line of her face. Her cheeks are still blotchy, her lashes damp and clumped together, and there's a rawness to her that makes so
I'm in a car. The smell of gasoline and copper thick in the air. Glass everywhere, glittering like stars. My dad's hand reaches for me, his fingers brushing my cheek, his eyes wide and terrified and so, so sorry."Run, Maci. You have to run."I didn't run. I stayed. I held his hand as the light left his eyes, as his chest stopped moving, as the sirens wailed in the distance, too late, always too late.I know this ending.I've lived this ending."No," I whisper, the word barely audible. "No, no, no."I lurch forward, but Bam's arms tighten around me, pulling me back."Maci, you can't help her right now. Let them work.""Trouble," I gasp, the word tearing out of me. "Where's Trouble? I need—I need to know he's okay."Bam's eyes flick to one of his men, who nods and disappears back into the apartment.Seconds stretch. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my temples, in my fingertips.Then the man reappears, holding a small, limp form.Trouble.He’s alive. His fur is ma
We both hit our seats at the same time. He's peeled onto the road before our belts are buckled, the engine roaring as he slams his foot to the floor. My hands scramble for the seatbelt, fingers shaking so badly I can barely click it into place.Logan taps his phone screen, the sound of ringing filling the truck through the speakers."Yeah," Bam's voice is clear, clipped, professional.Logan says one word before hanging up. "Emma."My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat as we hurtle forward. I recognize landmarks, we're close to the city. Minutes away. Only minutes.I'm going to be sick. Every time I think of Emma, my stomach twists violently, threatening to empty itself. I can't recall anything specific from the vision, just the crystal-clear image of my best friend and my apartment and something wrong, so deeply, fundamentally wrong."Please, hurry," I hear myself say, rocking back and forth in my seat. My body is desperate to do something, anything, but all it can manage is th
The week hurtles by at breakneck speed. How is it Friday already?Between work and caring for my new furry roommate, I’ve not had time to think. Each day blurs into the next. Rounds of client calls, mock-ups, and revisions. Mornings start with bra
Destiny. The word lodges itself in my chest like a blade. A fire stokes low in my gut, an instinct I’ve fought to suppress igniting.Adriel snorts, his pale fingers tapping against the table.“Destiny. What a deligh
My brother sits across from me, sprawled in his chair like the council chambers were built for his personal amusement. The bastard is a reflection I want to smash. Where I embody restraint and control, Cade radiates arrogance, a smirking, slithering affront to everything th
Hours later, I’m driving aimlessly, the city blurring around me. My office is a fucking prison, every surface reeks of her scent, every breath reminds me of how close she was. The hours between then and now have been a blur of pacing, futile attempts at focus, and the slow







