Tossing my ruined sweatshirt aside, I grab a hoodie, slipping it over my head. The house is quiet, but I can hear Tristan out in the guest house. He’s pacing, mumbling under his breath, nearly as stressed as I am. Guilt pricks at my heart, knowing it’s my fault he’s here. That it’s my fault he’s as much a prisoner as I am. I slip downstairs, heading through the house to the back door in the kitchen. It leads out onto the back patio, a small, cement area surrounded by brush. There’s a circular fire pit dug into the ground with black iron chairs laid out around it. Wood is stacked along the back of the house by the door, ready to burn. Walking past all of that, I pad softly toward the guest house. Tristan hears me coming, the door opening before I can even knock. It’s not a large building; basically the size of a large shed. The outside metal slats are white, with small windows cut out of the sides. Over his shoulder, I can see only two rooms—the main living space with another door l

I’m torn, my emotions a chaotic mess within me. I know I can’t stay behind with her. Not after what she did. Despite Ezra’s attempt at uncaring, I know otherwise. He’s hurt. Furious. As am I. But I have no right to be. Smelling the Shifter’s scent all over her…I’d held myself back, despite the fact that I’d wanted to claw his face off as much as Ezra had. Jealousy had twisted in my gut like a snake, rearing its ugly head before I could squash it to death. I had no right. Ezra, however, has every right. I can feel his anger as if it were a physical thing—dark and raging, crashing against my mind. It’s a wonder I was able to stop him at all. I could feel every single emotion rolling from him in hot waves of fury. If I hadn’t, both Octavia and her little pet would be dead by now. And all hope would have been lost. Following the scent of anger and bitterness, I head back to the house, sensing Ezra upstairs in his room. This surprises me. I would have thought he’d have taken

I wait until I hear her soft breathing before slipping out of the house knowing she’d most likely try to follow me once again. And I can’t have her doing that. Not tonight. Not when I needed a distraction. I make my way into the woods, following the same path as before. I stay human this time, though I know it’ll take longer. Tonight, I’m not in any hurry to get to the witch’s dwelling. The moon is hauntingly big tonight, its crescent hovering over the tips of the trees. Moonlight speckles the forest floor, the perfume of flowers and pine, earth and moss permeate the air. Despite its beauty…nothing can wipe the ghost of her touch from my skin. I want to forget—the scent of her filling my room, the softness of her skin beneath my hands, her lips…Shaking my head, I almost shift. The wolf would have simpler thoughts. Simpler feelings. Human feelings were too complex. Too much. They were intricate in ways the primal force of shifters wasn’t—as if God had decided humans needed so

The weight of the situation presses down on me like a leaden blanket as I grip the steering wheel, each turn of the road a painful reminder of our predicament. Octavia lies beside me in the passenger seat, her usually vibrant presence reduced to a fragile figure, her breaths shallow and uneven. Every glance I steal at her sends a jolt of fear coursing through my veins, her stillness a haunting echo of the chaos that had engulfed us. How could I have let this happen? The urge to flee, to take her to the safety of our own territory, claws at the edges of my mind. She’d be safe there. Protected. Far away from these monsters. But reason is too hard for me to ignore; we are but mice in the claws of a lion. Our escape would be futile, our capture inevitable. Or rather, her parents would return her on a silver platter if it meant winning this war. With a heavy heart, I direct the car towards the looming gates of the estate, each inch bringing us closer to a fate I dread to eventually face.

The night engulfs the forest in a suffocating embrace as I navigate through the twisting paths, every rustle of leaves and whisper of wind amplifying the weight of my thoughts. Thoughts of the princess gnaw at my insides, leaving me with a churning sense of unease that refuses to dissipate. She wasn’t the willfully ignorant Princess I’d believed her to be. She is as much of a pawn in this game as we are. Octavia knows next to nothing about this war—this curse. Not many knew the true reason behind our history, but then again, it wasn’t as if any Shifter leader had ever cared enough to find out in the first place. They’d chosen to remain blissfully unaware as they sat behind their guarded walls. She, on the other hand, did not have any choice at all. A part of me wants to tell her the truth, despite its dangers, but my protective side wins out time and time again. If Octavia knows, I’m not sure I’d be able to protect Ezra from the witch’s wrath. Goddess only knows what that crazy