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CHAPTER 10 — The Friend Who Knew Too Much
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2026-02-11 07:30:49I should’ve felt better after Friday, after cupcakes and laughter and the strange relief of someone filling my quiet with noise. Instead, I woke with my nerves already awake, as if my body had spent the night listening for the moment trust turned its face away.
The thrush pecked at her food with more confidence this morning. When I lifted the towel covering her box, she fixed me with one bright, unimpressed eye, like she’d decided survival was her new hobby.“That’s my girl,
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For one suspended second, all I could see was purple. Not the blood. Not the silver flashing near the young man’s shoulder. Not the way Colton’s face had gone empty with rage or how Mara was already moving with her medical bag banging against her hip. Purple.A torn strip of my cardigan, clenched in a shaking hand. I had worn it two mornings ago while drinking tea on my porch, barefoot despite the cold, pretending my world had not begun to fill with teeth and secrets. I had hung it over the back of the chair when the kettle whistled.And someone had taken it. Someone had stood close enough to my door to steal something that smelled like me.The clearing tipped sideways. Grace’s hand found my elbow. “Breathe, Nora Jane.” “I am.” “No, you’re not.”A sound left the injured young man, low and broken, and whatever panic had been dragging me under snapped clean in two.He was bleeding. Mara reached him as Ben and E
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“Hello, Father.”Two words should not have been able to chill an entire clearing. But they did.The pack went quiet in a way that was different from fear. Older than fear. Habit, or maybe memory. The kind of silence a house kept after too many storms had rattled its windows.Gideon Blake stood at the edge of the path with one hand wrapped around the head of his cane, looking at his son as though Colton were just a disobedent pup.Colton stood in front of me. A wall made of flesh, bone, and warning.Gideon’s cold blue eyes flicked from him to me again. “You look like hell.”Colton’s voice stayed flat. “You came all this way to compliment me?”A few people in the clearing looked down very quickly. Gideon’s mouth moved, almost a smile and not nearly warm enough to be one. “I came because word travels fast when the Alpha brings a human woman into protected land after hunters mark the border.”“She has a name,” Colto
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For a moment, no one spoke. The mist moved between the trees like a living thing, pale and thin, slipping around trunks and porch steps and the line of Colton’s shoulders. Somewhere deeper in Grimfang land, a bird called once and went silent. They know where we are. The words did not feel real at first. They landed somewhere outside my body, hanging there with the smell of wet pine and woodsmoke. My hand stayed curled around the doorframe, fingers aching from how tightly I held on. Colton changed before my eyes. Everything human and soft that had stood on my porch a few seconds ago vanished beneath something older. His expression emptied. His spine went still. The air around him seemed to pull tight, as though the entire forest had leaned closer to hear what he would do. “Who has seen it?” he asked. Ben’s face was grim. “Me. Emily. Mara. No one else.” “Go
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I packed like a woman preparing for a war, a weekend away, and a nervous breakdown. Three sweaters went into my bag. Then two came out because apparently danger did not cancel out my inability to make decisions. I added jeans, socks, underwear, a purple cardigan I had no business caring about during a crisis, and then stood in the middle of my bedroom holding a paperback romance novel like it had personally betrayed me. Bailey appeared in the doorway. “Bring it.” I clutched the book to my chest. “I wasn’t asking.” “You were standing there making your tragic heroine face.” “I don’t have a tragic heroine face.” “You absolutely do. It’s very pretty. Very doomed. Very ‘he touched my hand once and now I must flee to the moors.’” Despite everything, a laugh scraped out of me. It felt strange in my throat, like using a muscle after an injury. Bailey softened immediately,
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“If we’re going to have wolves bleeding in my granddaughter’s kitchen,” Grace said, “I suppose it’s time to stop pretending.”No one moved. Not Bailey, still damp and clutching her baseball bat like she had been born with it. Not James, who stood near the window with the kind of stillness that made the room feel guarded from the inside out. Not Emily, rain dripping from the end of her auburn braid onto my floor, her sharp eyes flicking between Grace and Colton as if she had just walked into a conversation that could turn into a knife fight.Not Colton. He sat at my kitchen table, too large for the chair, one arm burned red and ugly from silver, blood drying along his neck. His gaze stayed fixed on my grandmother.And Grace, infuriatingly, took another sip from his glass of water. I stared at her. “Pretending.”She set the glass down. “Yes.”The word was simple. The ache it caused was not. The kitchen blurred around the edges for half a se
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Trap! For one suspended second, no one in my kitchen moved. Grace’s voice came through the phone small and steady, but there was something beneath it I had never heard from her before. Not fear exactly. Grace had always treated fear like an unwelcome guest she might offer tea to before throwing out. This was sharper. My fingers tightened around the phone until the edges bit into my palm. “Nan, who’s there?” On the other end, another knock sounded. Two hard taps. A pause. Then one more. Bailey went utterly still beside me. Colton’s eyes lifted to the dark kitchen window, and whatever softness had been in him moments before vanished. He became all angles and silence. A predator had awakened. Grace breathed carefully into the phone. “Men at the front door,” she said. “At least two. One more by the side garden unless my hydrangeas have learned to swear.” My stomach dropped.
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Colton held the second snare up in the porch light to show proof.The wire glinted pale, moonlight’s cruel twin, looped and ready to cinch around anything warm blooded and unlucky. My stomach rolled as if I could already feel it tightening.I opened the door only after I’d checked the lock twice, b
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By Friday, my house smelled like vanilla and nerves.I’d baked because Bailey had texted SNACKS ARE NON-NEGOTIABLE and I, tragically, was the kind of person who responded to loud friendship with domestic surrender. The cupcakes were purple, of course. Lavender frosting with little sugar
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He was gone by morning. Of course he was. I woke sprawled awkwardly on the garage floor, my cheek pressed to my own folded arms, the concrete cold enough to make my bones complain. The lamp still glowed on the workbench. The thrush rustled once in her dim corner, alive and offended at the world.
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