The tires screeching. The glass shattering. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber.And then silence.I jolt awake with my hands fisted in my sheets, chest heaving. Same nightmare. Two years and it never changes.My bedroom door slams open before I can even breathe properly.Jace doesn't knock. He never has.He's in sweats, hair a mess, looking like he teleported from his bed to mine. He doesn't say a word, just lifts the blanket and climbs in next to me like we've done since we were kids. He pulls my head down to his chest and his heart is already doing that slow, steady wolf rhythm that always knocks me out."Again?" he mumbles, half asleep."Again," I whisper.He just tightens his arms. "You're good. You're here."This is my life. I'm Kira Reyes, 19, human, and I live in a house full of werewolves.Two years ago, my parents died in a car crash on Highway 9. The same crash I survived with only scratches. No one from my extended family wanted a 17-year-old with trauma and no trust fu
Last Updated : 2026-09-02 Read more