Who Dies In 'Us Against You' And How Does It Impact Beartown?

My lifelong rival and I married into the Alpha family of the Silver Ridge Pack. I married the older brother, Adrian Black—the pack's brilliant healer, the cool-headed first heir everyone expected to become the next Alpha. Maya married the younger brother, Kane Black—the hot-tempered second heir who commanded border patrol and pack enforcement. Maya and I had spent our whole lives trying to beat each other. We fought for first place in training, and the top ranking at the werewolf academy. Even after we got pregnant four days apart, we secretly competed over whose pup would arrive first. Then, eight months into my pregnancy, I lay bleeding in the wreckage of a car crash—and my husband, the best emergency healer in the pack, decided I was lying. "Your vitals were stable this morning." "You're only making this up because you don't want me helping Vera. Stop using our pup and threatening to leave the pack just because you're jealous. Grow up." The only person who came for me was Maya. She carried our own unborn pup while she dragged me five miles through a snowstorm to the pack medical center. When I woke, she sat beside my bed with red-rimmed eyes and an empty belly. "You'd better not die," she snapped. "I haven't beaten you enough yet." I stared at her flattened stomach. "Where's your pup?" For once, Maya had no cutting answer. After a few seconds, she forced a smile that looked worse than tears. "Gone with yours." We looked at each other for a long time. "Let's leave them," I said. She wiped her eyes and gave a bitter laugh. "Look at that. We finally agree on something."

I am not just a werewolf. I am more. And I could die for it. A series of death befalls my town and it pushes me to confront secrets about myself that I would be killed for if it ever came to light. This is my story and I hope I survive to tell it.

On the day of my marking ceremony, I don't receive flowers or a mate's embrace. Instead, I receive news that my boyfriend, Liam Hagerty, was caught in a snowstorm and his body was never found. I lose the man I love, and the pup in my belly loses its father. The grief nearly destroys me, but everyone keeps saying, "Aurora, stay strong—at least for the pup." On the day of the funeral, Liam's twin brother, Jasper Hagerty, returns from the border patrol with his mate. Every time I see Jasper's face—the exact same face as Liam's—my heart aches all over again. Then one night, I accidentally overhear a conversation between my mother-in-law—the old Luna—and Jasper. "Liam, you have to go through with this. Your brother died saving you, and your sister-in-law's been through so much. Let her give birth and have something to rely on. Then, you can host your marking ceremony with Aurora." Silence follows. Then "Jasper" speaks. "But what about Aurora? She's carrying my pup..." His mother sighs. "Aurora is strong and considerate. She'll understand." Jasper says in resignation, "Alright, Mom. I'll do as you say." That's when I realize Liam never died. The man I thought was my brother-in-law, Jasper, is just Liam putting on an act. Heartbroken beyond words, I call my older brother, Axel Maddox. "Axel, I want to come home. Liam is already dead, so there's no reason for me to stay here anymore."

The day we were meant to be mated, my Alpha, Ford, was ambushed. Silver bullets shredded his car, sending it plunging off a bridge and into the river below. He was pronounced dead. Drowned. I was left pregnant with his heir, shattered by the raw agony of our severed mate bond. Then Ford's twin, Aiden, returned from abroad with his mate, Kyra. His identical face and a scent so similar to my mate's nearly drove me mad. A desperate part of me swore Ford was still alive. I told myself it was just grief. A widow's delusion. Until I overheard a hushed conversation and the horrifying truth slammed into me: the man pretending to be Aiden was Ford. He had faked his death. He'd let his own brother die in his place, all for Kyra—the other woman carrying his child. The grief that had crippled me instantly morphed into a cold, sharp rage. Ford didn't just break our bond; he shattered it. And I would make him pay. I wiped my tears and sent a single message to my brother, Billy, the Alpha of the Winterstone Pack. "Brother, I need a plane crash. He loves faking his death? Fine. Let him feel what it's like to truly lose a mate." Only when the news of my "death" spread did Ford reclaim his name. He knelt for seven days and nights in the ashes of the home we once shared, consumed by a grief of his own making.

When Isla Bennett lost her parents at ten, the Callahans gave her a home and Noah Callahan gave her a reason to stay. For eight years, they’ve been inseparable, an "anchor and ship" navigating life side-by-side. But senior year is changing math. As Noah’s perfect relationship cracks, he’s forced to admit a devastating truth: every girl he’s ever dated was just a substitute for the one he can’t afford to lose. Now, as Isla prepares to leave for Chicago, they must decide if their lifelong bond is worth protecting, or if the love they’ve denied for years is worth risking the only family they have left. Because sometimes the hardest person to fall for is the one who already feels like home.

I have the ability to see how people will die. The day my divorce is finalized, I'm hit by an electric scooter and sent flying. When I wake up, I see a line of text above the nurse's head. It reads, "27 years old. Breast cancer in eight years." I pick up my phone. The first name in my contacts is my ex-wife, Caroline Meyer. After a moment's hesitation, I open her social media. Her latest post shows her and her new boyfriend vacationing in Marencia, captioned, "Forever starts with you." The location tag says it was posted three hours ago. We only finalized our divorce the day before. Later, I get a voice message from my daughter. "Daddy, Mommy says I can't go to her new house anymore. Her boyfriend doesn't like kids." I clutch my phone and head out to pick her up, only to run into Caroline's father, John Meyer, outside the apartment building. Above his head, the words read, "62 years old. Carbon monoxide poisoning in three months." The moment John sees me, he starts yelling. "What a loser! My daughter should've divorced you years ago! Her new boyfriend is young, handsome, and owns three houses. What do you have?" I glance at the words above his head, then slowly delete the warning text message I'd already typed out. After that, I take my daughter's hand and say, "Come on. I'm taking you out for burgers."