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~ETHAN~ I don’t need to see. The moment those headlights don’t waver—I know how this ends. It was her race in the rain. Nyra. Her boots hit the road—hard, steady—cutting through rain. My bike’s alarm keeps blinking somewhere to the side—useless, distant—but her steps land heavier than anything else. Louder. Closer. I push up on one arm— Pain tears through my shoulder—deep, jagged. "Fuck—" My elbow buckles. Vision dips, black creeping in at the edges. I drag in a breath— And it catches at my ribs. I try again. Same sharp pull. I hold it there, jaw tight, waiting for it to ease. It doesn’t. I force my head up. Rain hits my face instantly, running into my eyes, blurring everything into streaks of light and shadow. Sound flattens into the steady pound of water and the uneven pull of my own dragging breath. Then she steps into the headlights. And everything sharpens. Silhouette first—then her. Standing there like the rain doesn’t touch her. Like none of this slows her dow
~ETHAN~ My hands hover over the handle of my door, the same dim stairwell light flickering beside the entrance. Nothing about it has changed. It looks exactly the way it always has—ordinary, forgettable. But something about it doesn’t sit the same. Her car is somewhere out there, abandoned near the woods where I left it. The files and sketches are tucked securely under my belt, though I don’t really need them. I know what’s in them. I’ve gone over every detail enough times to recite half of it from memory. If I wanted, I could hand everything over to Joan and let him deal with it. But I don’t. Not yet. I push the door open. The air inside is stale, closed off too long, a thin layer of dust settling over everything. The curtains hang half-drawn, and the table sits exactly as I left it—cluttered with files and loose papers, untouched. I lock the door behind me and pause, letting my gaze move across the room out of habit. Windows. Corners. Entry points. Nothing’s shifted
~NYRA~ "Coffee?" Aaron asks, the moment he steps in. The rich aroma of coffee drifts from the mug in his hands. I slide my chair back, feeling the smooth floor under my feet, and reach for it. Steam curls upward, brushing my fingers as I lift the cup—warmth seeping into my palms. He doesn't sit on the desk or chair like usual, and leans against the window rail. His own mug is clasped loosely in one hand, eyes flicking to my lap. "Rapid regeneration," he reads, brow raised. "Just expanding my knowledge," I shrug, curling my fingers around the hot cup. He shakes his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Of course.” The first sip of his coffee hits me like a jolt of warmth, bitter and rich, curling across my tongue. I sink into my chair with a long sigh, shoulders loosening with each slow swallow. Steam drifts from the cup, brushing my fingers, carrying the scent of roasted beans. "Good?" "Could be better," I say, tilting the mug for another careful sip. He snorts, eyes slidin
~NYRA~ “I came,” he says, voice rougher now, “to apologize.” The words fall between us. And for one impossible moment, my heart forgets how to beat. I just stare at him. For a moment I’m not even sure I heard him right. Then I laugh. The sound cuts out of me before I can stop it—sharp, brittle, scraping the back of my throat on the way out. “You came all the way here,” I say, straightening to face him fully, “to apologize?” Ethan doesn’t move, just stands there, steady as stone. “Yes.” The word lands so quietly it takes a second to register. “Let me guess,” I say, my voice turning sharp. “You showed up here and realized this is the only way you’re getting out alive.” “No.” The calm answer lands like a stone dropped into still water. No fear. No defensiveness. Just… certainty. My eyes narrow, I take a slow step towards him. The distance between us shrinks. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. A beat of silence stretches between us. Then— “To leave this place I do
~NYRA~ “Come in.” Uncle Daniel’s Alpha voice rumbles from behind the door, low and commanding. I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening on the handle. Whatever he’s called me here for, I already know it won’t go well. I push the door open and step in. His office. His authority. His rules. Suffocating—yet familiar. “Nyra,” he says, calm but simmering with authority. “Sit.” “Uncle.” I slide into the chair opposite him, palms pressed against the polished oak. Reports lie in neat piles to one side, pens scattered around them, the faint scent of old parchment and ink hangs in the air. “Mind explaining these to me?” He tosses a sheet onto the desk, the paper landing with a thud that makes my stomach knot. I glance down and my fingers immediately curl under the table. To Alpha Rowan… my reports. How the fuck did he get his hands on them? “Nyra.” His voice tightens. “These are the reports I submitted to the council,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but my pulse
~ETHAN~ “Fine,” she says at last. “Ask.” For a second, I hesitate. I shouldn’t. I need to know. “Where did those children come from?” Her brows draw together. “What?” My jaw tightens, and before I can stop myself, I lean closer, my breath brushing her lips. “Whose children are they, Nyra?” Her eyes narrow — Then her gaze snaps into mine like a blade. “Ethan Cross!” she growls. Green floods her eyes — fast, violent, alive. “Do you even hear what you’re implying?!” “I just need an answer.” My fingers tighten around her hand. Her jaw locks. For a moment she only breathes, slow and steady. Then the green in her eyes recedes. “They’re pack children,” she says flatly, wrenching her hands free. “What?” I stare at her confused. “But they’re humans.” “They’re werewolves.” “No.” I shake my head. “Werewolf children should be… wolves. Small ones. With paws and fur.” “You’re a fucking idiot.” “Then why can you turn into wolves but they don't?” “We s
~NYRA~ He leans in… closing the only gap between us. And then I feel him — hard, undeniable. The world slams still. A jolt surges through me — heat, anger, hunger — all at once. My breath stutters. My instinct roars. I wrench free, twisting out of his grip with force and fury, stumblin
~ETHAN~ “So… you two will be sleeping together?” “No!” “Never!” Her voice cuts over mine—sharp, absolute, leaving no room for negotiation. For a split second, her eyes snap to me. And then they’re gone again. She’s been doing that. Looking—then retreating. Like eye contact itself i
~NYRA~ “You need to train him.” The blade stills in my hand. Dust hangs in the air, sunlight cutting through it in burning slants, flashing off the steel. ‘You’re joking’, I say through the link. He doesn’t move, not even a slight moment of his eyes. I release the hold and step back, lowering
~NYRA~ “What took you this long—” The words never make it out. They die the second the window slides open, and I’m hit by a strong wave of earth and smoke. Him. Not Aaron. Bare skin meets the dawn’s cold—his chest pale in the low blue light, hair tousled like sleep tried and failed to claim hi







