Bennett’s POVI was dying. Such a fact was two things: simple and irrefutable. To fight it was futile; to ignore it was idiocy. But I had done as I had been bid by the visions that had plagued me since birth. I had fought the prophecy and, I hoped, saved the world from the tyranny breeding at its wolven heart.It was hard, seeing the world in pathways and possibilities. Even now, as I lay upon the gleaming white floor of Moose Creek’s medical centre, sedative spilling through my veins and blood streaming from my chest, photos of the futures forking from this moment blinded me. I saw Scarlett stood amidst the dead, the only survivor in a war she’d never asked for. I saw her bent over her mate’s body, sobs wracking through her. Then I saw her fumble for the outstretched claws of a fallen werewolf and use them to slit her own throat.I squeezed my eyes shut at that one. It did nothing to halt the visions, of course, but it always made me feel as if I had some semblance of control over

Bennett’s POVThings had taken a while to fall back into place after the battle. With the pack house left in ruins, Scarlett and Enzo had worked with his parents to rehome everyone that lived inside it while it was rebuilt. His mother and father had stayed close, lending their expertise as they got to grips with navigating life post-Ryker.They hadn’t been the only ones to stay, though. I’d asked to remain in Moose Creek. Enzo had accepted my cagey reasoning with narrowed eyes, but he would’ve said yes to just about anything with his mate’s hand on his arm. In truth, I didn’t know where else to go now. Everything in my life had been building up to this. Crafting prophecies for people to find, leaving breadcrumb trails, making messages, telling everyone just the right thing at exactly the right time – I’d never known a moment to myself. Now that was all I had. And I couldn’t See my way forward. Not anymore. I’d told nobody that Scarlett hadn’t been the only one to lose her powers t