"Strength and Consequences"

Cubs chase me, lapping at the blood falling from my horribly bandaged open wound.

“Get out of here!” I shout, my voice ragged, but they only hesitate for a moment before creeping closer again.

Ignoring them, I stumble forward, my legs nearly giving out beneath me as I drag myself toward the only place I can think of—home. My parents' front door looms ahead, familiar yet distant, and I push through without hesitation.

 The house is quiet, eerily so. No flickering lamp. No scent of dinner lingering in the air. Just silence.

I don’t stop. Can’t stop. My body moves on instinct, guiding me upstairs to the one place that has always meant safety. My old bed welcomes me with the same creaky protest as it always has, and I collapse into it, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

Then I feel them. Warm hands pressing gently against my shoulders.

“What the fuck?” I scream out, shooting upright.

Booker’s voice is tender, but I can hear the trace of tension in it. He backs away, giving me space, his hands retreating as if hurt. My heart beats, not from fear, but from something messier and more difficult.

“I’m mated now, Booker.” I yank the blankets around me, wrapping myself as if they could protect me from the consequences of my own words. “Are you trying to have to answer to the Alpha?”

Booker laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I’ve known you since we were children. Everyone knows I’d never—” He pauses, shaking his head. “I’d never find you… I’d never see you… I can’t even say something so irrational.”

“Not everyone will buy that.” My voice is subdued now, my nerves tapping beneath my skin. “What if I have to answer for your scent being on me?”

A flash of something crosses his face—worry, doubt, maybe regret. He turns, and without another word, he slips off the bed. The room is still again, except for the sound of our breathing.

I know why he’s here. He must have been concerned about me, but showing up at the hospital would have sent the wrong message to the wrong people. Still, this? This is dangerous too.

With an exhausted sigh, I kick off my shoes and pull the blankets tighter, going back under them. Booker hangs back for only a second before lying on top of the covers, close enough to offer security but far enough.

“I just had to know you were alright.” His voice is hushed in a way I don’t recognize. His stare finds mine, seeking something familiar. He doesn’t want to lose our friendship, and neither do I, but it is time we both move past kid pranks.

“I’m fine,” I answer quickly, my throat scratchy. “It’s you that should be nervous.”

He exhales, looking away. “Jocelyn, do you mean about the run tonight?”

He tries to sound calm, but I can see the stress in his lips and the apprehension in his eyes.

This is his final chance. If he doesn’t choose a mate tonight, the elders will choose for him. He has no way out. No way to run. I know the feeling very well. When they told me I would marry Glynn, I thought they were joking, but here I am avoiding my alpha husband at my parents’ house.

I can’t be upset with him, though.

That’s the cruel part.

He still has a choice. And I envy him for it.

Boom.

The sound bursts outside the wall, making my breath stick like new gum,

Then chaos.

“Are you freaking crazy?” Marta is on Booker before I can even register her movement.

“Wait—” I begin, but she’s already shifting.

Fur erupts from her skin in a violent wave, her bones snap into place with dangerous speed. In seconds, my sister is no longer a woman but a sleek, enraged, violent wolf, circling Booker with a snarl shaking through her throat. Her canines flash, and her eyes fasten onto him with nothing but fatal intent.

“Marta, calm down!” My voice is desperate, but she can’t hear me—or she doesn’t care.

Booker falls back; hands presented in surrender.

 “Slow down.” His voice is calm, but his body is rigid, muscles twitching, ready to guard himself if he has to. But Marta doesn’t slow down.

She leaps.

Her teeth sink into his forearm, not deep enough to wound but enough to draw blood. He clenches his teeth, tugging his arm back, but she’s persistent.

 Another bite. Then another.

Tiny, cruel bites, enough to make him bleed, enough to make him remember.

“I knew it would be you.” Her voice pushes through her growl, her words swollen with disgust. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

Something about this seems personal. What had I missed while I was away?

Marta has always been faithful to the pack, to the laws, to the marrying of mates—but this is more than duty. This is something deep-rooted, something possibly darker.

“She’s my friend!” Booker tries again, stepping backward, but she’s directing him now, pushing him toward the hall, biting, snapping, forcing him away.

“He just wanted to check on me!” I shout, but it’s useless.

“Get out of here!” Marta’s snarl rips through the air as she snaps her teeth at him, landing another bite on his wrist. Blood drips onto the wooden floorboards. “Before you ruin the queen’s marriage!”

Her words sting. My sister doesn’t trust me.

“Marta, nothing is going on!” I protest, but she’s already pushing him out of my room where I had felt safe just moments ago.

She whirls on me in the hallway. The look she gives me is cold—icier than I’ve ever seen her.

“Stay away from him.” Her voice is hard, fringed with something close to hatred. “He is going to ruin you. There will be rumors. Don't you know that there already are rumors?

 You’re already seen as a weak queen. Do you want Glynn to rip your mark open and leave you for dead?”

The air thickens between us.

I glare at her.

Marta. My sister. My own blood. The girl I used to protect from nightmares, who used to sneak sweets into my room when we were pups. This can’t be the same woman? This is not the same wolf? If you didn't believe in my loyalty, then she was right, no one else would.

She is stone.

And the worst part?

She’s right.