FAZER LOGINThe 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
Obsidian RidgeThe portal closed behind Talia with a sharp crack of displaced air.She didn’t linger.Anxiety pressed hard against her ribs as her boots hit stone—Obsidian Ridge familiar beneath her feet, steady, anchored, home. Relief flickered, but it didn’t settle. Not yet.Lucian would listen. She knew that. Her mate was a reasonable man. A steady Alpha. His wolf is even more so.But reason didn’t erase risk.And this plan was nothing but risk braided into hope.Talia exhaled and turned sharply down the corridor.She wished Dorian were already here.Not because Lucian couldn’t handle this, but because Dorian’s presence changed the temperature of the rooms. He steadied conversations simply by existing in them. His wolf didn’t posture. Didn’t rush. He watched. And right now, watching mattered.Because the alternative—the darker possibility clawing at the back of her mind—was unbearable.What if Thomas was setting a trap?What if this binding was another portal like the one that swal
Sera and Talia did not speak aloud as the silence settled.Talia had come through the portal intending to see her son, but Luca was gone on Beta duties—already carrying responsibilities that had arrived faster than anyone expected. She let that disappointment pass. This visit had never been about sentiment.It was about preparation.And containment, whether anyone liked that word or not.It had been years since Alina and Casius disappeared beyond the veil. The boys had still been toddlers then. Now war loomed again—this time under Seraphine’s shadow—and the truth was unavoidable: they needed every powerful wolf they could reclaim if they were going to survive what was coming. And distance—distance had never protected anyone from monsters. They were all at risk. No one was safe.Talia had come to terms with the fact that survival did not require forgiveness. It required a strategy.Firelight burned low against stone walls worn smooth by centuries of use. This wasn’t a room meant for a
Sienna POVThe kitchen smelled of rosemary, hot iron, and slow-roasted meat—something that made a wolf’s instincts stir.Sienna stood barefoot at the counter, one hip pressed into the worn oak, fingers steady as she chopped garlic. The rhythm calmed her. It always had. Chop. Drag. Chop. Drag. Control something small when everything else felt… not.That was when the air shifted.Not a sound.Not a scent.A pressure.Sienna froze, knife mid-lift.Her skin prickled. The kind of awareness you didn’t learn—you inherited it. She turned slowly.Celeste stood near the doorway, pale as moonlight, edges soft, not quite solid. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, eyes too bright, body faintly translucent like fog caught in a human shape.Sienna didn’t scream.She swung.The knife passed cleanly through Celeste’s ribs.Celeste blinked, then arched a brow. “Wow,” she said dryly. “And here I thought you’d hug me.”Sienna exhaled sharply, heart pounding. “You’re not actually here.”Celeste glan
Celeste POVThe courtyard had become a living map of survival.Celeste moved through it with practiced ease, tablet tucked under one arm, braid pinned tight against the wind. Families clustered near the outer walls—some with wagons, some with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Wolves of every shade and size waited with quiet patience, exhaustion carved deep into their faces.No one argued.No one demanded.That alone told her how bad it had been.“Cottage twelve is full,” Celeste called to one of the stewards. “Redirect the Riverbend family to the south row. Keep them near the orchards—two elders, one with a limp.”The steward nodded and moved quickly.Celeste crouched to a child’s level, offering a small loaf wrapped in cloth. The girl stared at it like it might disappear.“It’s real,” Celeste said gently. “And there will be more tomorrow.”The child’s mother bowed so deeply it nearly broke Celeste’s heart.“Please,” Celeste said softly, helping her up. “You don’t owe us that.”







