LOGIN“We’ve been through worse,” Sera said quietly after Thomas had quieted.Thomas scoffed and turned away toward the drink bar. “Yeah. And I don’t want to have to kill my mate over it.”The words landed harder than a slap.Sera didn’t respond immediately. She rose slowly, deliberately, and crossed the room until she stood directly in front of him. Then—without hurry, without apology—she lowered herself to her knees in front of him.Not submission.Calculation.Her hands slid up his thighs, gentle, familiar, touching him in the precise way she knew unraveled him every time. The way that bypassed anger and went straight for instinct.Something he loved.“Thomas,” she said softly. “I would never betray you.”His eyes tracked her movements with sharp caution, assessing even as heat flickered beneath it.“I know what I’m doing,” she continued. “I don’t need you micromanaging my every move.”He didn’t respond.So she pressed—because silence from Thomas was never neutrality. It was a strategy.
Sera POV(Sera and Thomas’s Suite)The air was wrong the moment Sera crossed the threshold.Not cold—frozen.The suite was dark except for the low amber glow near the sitting area. Shadows clung to the walls as if they had nowhere else to go. The wards hummed faintly under her skin, unsettled, as if unsure which Alpha they answered to tonight.Her wolf lifted her head inside her.So, the voice murmured with grim clarity. Tonight is the night our mate finally admits who he is.Sera didn’t stop walking. She didn’t reach for a weapon. She didn’t call out.Be ready, she replied silently. We may have to kill our mate tonight.Her wolf didn’t bristle. Didn’t snarl.She stood.Attentive.It would not be the first time they had chosen their children over a bond.Thomas stood near the vanity, his back half-turned, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of dark amber liquid. Whiskey. The good kind. The kind he drank when he wanted to savor something.Or someone.He watched her in the
Sienna POV — WyomingThe cameras went dark all at once.Not a glitch.Not a power failure.A deliberate silence.Every telecam feed across the wall blinked to black—Montana, South Dakota, Obsidian Ridge—cut clean in the same breath. The warded house fell into a hush that felt too intentional to be a coincidence.Celeste felt it before anyone spoke.The frost on the window was his.Not winter.Not Wyoming.Him.Thomas Calder.The cold was pressed to the glass like breath against skin—close enough to feel, not close enough to touch. He hadn’t crossed the wards. He hadn’t needed to.He was listening.Sienna swallowed, her pulse slow but heavy in her throat. Her mother stood beside her, Sera’s presence firm, steady, but held tight in restraint. Sera knew. Of course she did.Mates always knew.Then Celeste’s voice broke the silence through the residual link.“I felt something.”Everyone froze.“Outside the wards,” Celeste continued. “It was… my father. But not the way he used to feel.”Sie
“Seraphine killed my mate.” Sera clarified her statement to avoid any confusion, no doubt. They had the same enemy. "She poisoned her, which eventually led to her death." She lowered her voice in memory and sadness, "A very slow and painful death."The words landed as a blade dropped on stone.Silence swallowed the telecam feeds—three states held in a single breath. Even the wards seemed to still, the low hum of protection fading to a near-imperceptible thrum.Sienna moved first.She reached for her mother’s hand and held it, fingers tightening as if the truth itself had weight. Sera didn’t look down, but she let herself be held. For a heartbeat, she leaned—just a fraction—into her daughter’s grip.Across the South Dakota feed, Luca went utterly still.“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said quietly.The word mother rippled through the circle.Talia flinched—not in pain, but in reflex—before she mastered it. Titles mattered. Lines mattered. And yet the truth pressed through all of it: Sera was
The next day, everyone went to work on their assigned tasks.The air in the Shadowmere tunnels was cool, carrying the scent of earth and centuries of stagnation.The library had been sealed for decades, ever since Thomas had used a chamber near here as a portal entry for a witch. That history hung heavy in the air, a phantom itch that made the fur on the back of one’s neck stand up."Watch your step," Jael murmured, his large hand hovering near the small of Amalia’s back without actually crowding her.Amalia adjusted her shawl, glancing behind them. Two pack warriors trailed a respectful distance away, their eyes scanning the dark corners."Jael," Amalia whispered, amused. "I’m an elite warrior. I think I can handle a dusty library.""You are a warrior," Jael agreed easily, his deep voice echoing slightly off the stone walls. "But you are also carrying my first and only pup. If a spider looks at you the wrong way, I want it dead before you even have to frown at it."Amalia softened, h
The Graves kitchen was warded, sealed, and too quiet for the kind of meeting they were about to have.Sienna stood at the table, barefoot, one palm braced on the wood like she needed the contact to stay grounded. Her other hand hovered low over her abdomen on instinct.Four weeks.Not visible. Not announced. But her body knew. Her wolf—if she even had one—knew. The world felt sharper, louder, closer to the edge.Sera finished the last ward at the window and didn’t turn around.“No one hears,” she said. “Not unless they’re inside the circle.”Sienna swallowed. “You promised.”“I promised.” Sera finally looked at her, gaze flicking to Sienna’s stomach for the briefest beat. “And I meant it.”On the table, the telecam sat inside a ring of salt and black iron runes—Amalia’s work. The thing looked like a camera until you stared too long and realized it was a door wearing a device’s skin.A chime sounded.The lens flared.Then the kitchen filled with screens.Multiple feeds. Multiple states







