I was dancing at my own engagement party when a stranger’s eyes locked onto mine across the bar. His gaze felt like a caress, and my wolf practically purred. I had no idea he’d been paid to take…

Talia never sees the predator tracking her through the haze of her own engagement party. The tequila barely touches her shifter metabolism, but the intoxication of the moment—the promise of her upcoming mating ceremony, the knowledge that she’ll soon be bound to her mate for life—makes her head swim all the same. That is, until something prickles down her spine like a shadow crossing light. Someone’s watching her.

One of Graham’s men, she assumes. They’re posted around the bar to protect her, or just to make sure she behaves. A flush of annoyance rises, and with it, an impulse. Let them watch.

She rolls her hips with an extra sway, raises her head in defiance. Then her eyes meet the stranger’s. He’s leaning against the back wall, light green eyes glinting. Handsome, short blonde hair, sharp features.

But it’s his gaze—intent, dark, unwavering—that sends a thrill through her. He’s not one of Graham’s men; she’d have noticed him before. He’s tall, broad, and now that he’s caught her stare, he’s smirking. And good God, that smirk feels like he knows every dirty thought coursing through her.

“What do you think a spark feels like? ” she asks her friend. Her friend laughs, following her gaze. “If I had moves like yours, I’d get on that bar and see for myself.

”

Talia giggles, giddy and light-headed. She climbs onto the stool, her body alive with the sensation of being watched, owned by his gaze. Her hands slide over her arms, down to her waist, as she sways her hips to the beat pulsing in her ears. She arches her back, neck exposed, imagining his hands guiding her, pulling her close.

She loses herself in the heat of his gaze. If only she knew he wasn’t just watching her—he’d been paid to abduct her. Alec pulls another pull of whiskey, letting the burn distract him from the nauseating mix of perfumes and sweat saturating the air. He watches the girl some more.

She’s climbing onto the bar with surprising grace, swaying her hips to a low beat, her blonde hair coming undone in wild waves around a face flushed with booze and abandon. He needs to keep his wolf in check. Unfortunately, his wolf is a little obsessed with his latest target: Talia Montrose. A shifter princess about to be bonded to some big-shot Alpha, celebrating her engagement party here of all places.

He’s not normally one to attend high society pack events—you need to have a pack for that, which he doesn’t. He just needs to get her out of here discreetly. Unfortunately, she’s now rolling her hips in a rhythm that is anything but discreet. Every damn male around the bar is desperately panting after his target, which isn’t exactly helping him get the job done.

She’s twirling across the bar stool, fingers grazing her dress, giddy with the exaggerated enthusiasm of someone who’s had too many drinks. She hasn’t, though. He had the barman slip something into her drink earlier. Underneath the vanilla and citrus of her perfume, his wolf catches the acrid tang of anxiety every time one of the Alpha’s guards shifts position.

Now she’s too far gone to realize how other wolves in the crowd track each sway of her hips like they’re marking prey. It’s a five-hour drive to the cabin, assuming they don’t hit trouble at the border. He’s planned for contingencies, but he can’t move just yet. The Alpha’s men are positioned exactly where he expected: two by the main entrance, one at the back door, two circulating the crowd.

Amateur hour. He just needs to wait a little while longer for his contact to create the distraction. Then Talia’s steps falter, a slight stumble barely noticeable. Before he knows it, Alec is moving, sliding expertly through the crowd.

Someone reaches for her, but Alec easily pulls him back, stepping forward to catch the tumbling girl against his chest. “Whoops,” she giggles, blinking blearily at him. She smells like a dream, which is highly unfortunate. She nuzzles closer, pressing her face against his neck, and Alec stiffens.

The drugs must be hitting her hard for her to act so cuddly. “You smell really good,” Talia sighs. Her breath sends an involuntary shiver down his spine. Like pine trees and home.

His gut twists with guilt he immediately swallows down. He doesn’t owe this girl. She’s just a job. He’s doing it all for Jill.

“Let’s get you some air,” he mutters, steering her toward the exit. A quick glance at her bodyguards tells him he can’t waste any more time. Her eyes lock with his, and for a moment the haze fades, the crowd disappears, and it feels ancient and inevitable like gravity. Then her body goes slack in his arms as unconsciousness finally claims her.

Alec mutters a curse, hurrying toward the exit. This isn’t right. None of this is right. But it’s too late to back out now.

The first thing Talia registers is the vibration—a constant mechanical rumble that wraps around her. She tries to move, but her wrists catch against something rough. Rope, bound behind her back. Her ankles too.

Panic claws up her throat. Someone has taken her. Kidnapped her. She reaches for her wolf, that familiar surge of power coiled beneath her skin, but her body feels leaden, unresponsive.

Whatever they’ve given her is strong enough to suppress even her shifter metabolism. A blindfold presses tightly over her eyes, and something is wedged between her teeth—the bitter taste of cotton making her gag. The trunk. She’s in a trunk.

The realization dawns as her heightened sense of smell picks up hints of motor oil, rubber, and the sharp metallic tang of fear. Images flash through her mind: neon lights, champagne bubbles, her bachelorette party, Graham’s men stationed around the bar watching like statues. Then green eyes, summer forest green, and strong arms catching her as she fell. A scent like pine and winter wind that had made her wolf purr with contentment for just a heartbeat.

Her racing pulse steadies, her wolf settling beneath her skin as if recognizing something. But then the car hits a bump, jolting her back to reality, and the memory slips away like smoke. Her ears pop suddenly, the pressure shift telling her they’re climbing in altitude. The air grows thinner, colder, creeping through her party dress.

The car jerks around a bend, and her body rolls against the scratchy carpet lining of the trunk. Talia screams against the gag, but the sound is pitifully muffled. She kicks out with her bound feet, connecting with something solid—the lid, probably. She kicks again and again, but her movements are sluggish, uncoordinated.

The drugs make her limbs feel wrapped in cotton. *Shift*, she commands herself. *Shift! * But her wolf remains dormant, trapped beneath layers of chemical submission.

Even her senses feel dulled. *Think. Think. *

She forces herself to breathe through her nose, fighting back the hysteria.

Graham’s men had been watching her. His elite guards. If someone managed to snatch her right from under their noses… Graham.

Her first memory of the Alpha, her fiancé, surges up. The way he barely looked at her when their pack signed the marriage contract, his steel-gray eyes fixed on the alliance papers instead of her. He’d been polite and efficient. She’d told herself he’d warm up once they spent time together.

Now the cold ruthlessness she felt from him feels like a lifeline. A small, almost defiant smile tugs at the corners of her gagged mouth. Whoever has taken her has made a fatal mistake. Graham will come for her.

She focuses. She can’t shift, can’t fight, not yet. But the drugs will wear off eventually. All she has to do is wait, gather her strength, and survive until then.

Let them think they’ve caught a helpless bride. They’ll learn. The engine’s rumble dies, leaving only the whisper of wind through bare branches. Alec kills the headlights, letting darkness swallow the dirt road that ends abruptly before him.

The mountains loom ahead—jagged peaks cutting into the pre-dawn sky like broken teeth. No trees, no shelter, just wind-carved rock and patches of stubborn ice refusing to melt even in spring. The cabin is another three miles up, hidden in a natural fold of the mountain where the trees finally find purchase. They’ll have to go on foot.

The roads are too rough now, and he can’t risk the noise of an ATV. Daylight is the enemy. From the trunk, he catches only the faintest trace of his captive’s scent, sealed away from him. It’s better this way.

Clearer. That strange pull he’d felt at the bar was probably a trick of the lights and the crowd. Then a subtle change in Talia’s breathing pattern cuts through his thoughts. The sedatives are wearing off.

Alec reaches under the driver’s seat, fingers closing around the medical kit. Just another job, he tells himself, rolling the syringe between his fingers. But then her scent seeps through the sealed trunk—fear mixed with something wild and fierce that makes his wolf surge forward with an unexpected protectiveness. His hand tightens on the syringe.

Since when does he care about making things easier on a target? Maybe because for the first time in his career, Alec isn’t entirely sure he’s working for the right side. He shakes it off. He doesn’t get paid to be sure.

He gets paid to deliver. A muffled thud from the trunk makes him pause, syringe hovering. Her scent hits him full force now: fear, yes, but underneath it something that calls to his very nature. Determination.

Fire. Alec smirks, tapping the syringe to check for air bubbles. His intel painted Talia as a soft pack princess, all bright smiles and submission. But that spark he caught at the bar wasn’t a fluke.

This one has fire in her. Good thing he’s not paid to care. He steps out into the biting mountain air, moving toward the trunk with the syringe ready. The trunk springs open, and Alec barely has time to register the flash of cream-colored fur before sixty pounds of snarling wolf launches at his throat.

Her timing is perfect. It would have worked too, if he hadn’t spent the last decade dealing with desperate shifters. He catches her mid-leap, but instead of the brutal takedown he’d planned, his hands gentle at the last second. He uses just enough force to guide her to the frozen ground, his wolf howling at the pained yelp she makes.

She twists, snapping at his hands, her teeth grazing his forearm before he manages to pin her. “Easy,” he murmurs, the words slipping out before he can stop them. His free hand finds the soft fur behind her ear even as he drives the syringe home. “Nice try, princess.

”

He forces a smirk to cover his confusion. Her wolf form is smaller than he expected—lean and quick, built for speed over strength. Her fur gleams almost silver in the starlight, except for one golden patch between her eyes that his fingers itch to touch. Their gazes lock, blue meeting green, and for a heartbeat the struggle vanishes.

It’s like looking into a mirror, seeing a reflection of his own wild spirit staring back. His wolf recognizes something in her—something that calls to him with an authority greater than any Alpha’s command. Talia growls, hackles raised, but he can already feel her muscles starting to go slack under the sedative’s influence. Still, there’s defiance burning in those ice-blue eyes.

Winter cold, and just as unforgiving. “Word of advice,” he eases up slightly as her struggles weaken, his thumb absently stroking through her fur. “Stay in wolf form, because believe me, you’ll be doing plenty of hiking. ”

Her only response is another growl, softer now, slurred around the edges as the drugs take hold.

She fights it—he’ll give her that. Even as her head droops, those blue eyes stay locked on him, promising retribution. Definitely not a soft princess, his wolf notes with something that feels dangerously like admiration. Alec pushes the thought away, focusing on checking her bonds.

He’s not paid to be impressed. He’s not paid to wonder why his hands keep wanting to gentle through her fur, or why his wolf keeps trying to surge forward and claim instead of subdue. He’s paid to deliver. And that is what he intends to do.

Follow. Stay close. Obey. The commands wear into Talia’s mind, each step through the snow a battle between terror and an inexplicable need to comply.

The injection site burns where he struck her after subduing her failed escape attempt. Her muscles still remember the shocking gentleness of his hands when he caught her mid-leap. How could someone so dangerous feel so safe? He’s your kidnapper, her mind screams.

Run. Fight. Escape. But when his scent catches on the wind—pine needles and wood smoke—her wolf whines with longing.

Even her fiancé, one of the most feared Alphas in the region, hadn’t affected her like this. Her wolf had been wary of Graham’s power, had warned her to tread carefully around her future mate. But it had never begged to submit, never ached for his touch like it does now for a stranger. What has he done to me?

What kind of power could make her want to bare her throat more than an Alpha’s command? She stumbles, paw catching on hidden ice. The world spins—whether from drugs or exhaustion or that maddening pull toward him, she can’t tell. “Keep up.

” His voice cuts through the wind, rough as gravel but warm, enticing. Her body moves faster before she can stop herself. His words don’t just echo in her mind; they resonate in her bones, curl around her heart like smoke—sweet and inescapable. It’s the drugs, she thinks desperately.

It has to be. Though drugs don’t explain why every step away from him feels wrong, why her wolf keeps trying to close the distance. She’s engaged to an Alpha, for crying out loud. She should be fighting.

But she doesn’t feel like fighting now, not when his scent wraps around her like a promise. Her wolf wants to press closer, to feel those dangerous hands gentle through her fur again. It had felt so good before. “Almost there.

” The words drift back, half command, half promise. Her legs shake—either fighting the sedative or fighting the urge to run to him. This isn’t right, she thinks hazily. I shouldn’t feel so safe with someone holding me against my will.

But each “shouldn’t” feels weaker than the last, drowned out by the pull of his presence, the rightness of following in his footsteps. The snow is falling harder, or maybe that’s just her vision failing. She sees something through the white haze—a darker shape, angular and solid. A cabin.

She tries to focus, but the ground seems to rise up to meet her. The last thing she registers is his scent growing stronger, his arms surprisingly gentle as they lift her from the snow. Then darkness claims her, and Talia falls into dreams of belonging and surrender. Dawn creeps through the cabin’s frosted windows, painting gold across Talia’s sleeping form.

Alec hasn’t moved from her bedside in hours, telling himself it’s to watch for signs of the sedative wearing off. It’s not because of how peaceful she looks, or how his wolf keeps urging him to brush that stray curl from her face. He should have secured her in the safe room the moment they’d arrived. Instead, when she’d shifted back in his arms, body limp with exhaustion and drugs, he’d found himself laying her in the bed, tucking the blankets around her bare shoulders.

Now her scent is soaked into the sheets—wild honey and spring rain, with an underlying warmth that makes his wolf pace restlessly beneath his skin. You’re getting soft, he tells himself. Jill would laugh herself sick if she could see you now. The thought of his sister sends a familiar spike of guilt through his chest.

But this job will save her life. That’s all that matters. Even if something about this whole setup feels wrong. Even if his wolf keeps trying to surge forward and claim instead of guard.

He made his deal with the devil, and there’s no turning back now. Talia’s breathing changes, quickening toward consciousness. Alec steels himself, keeping still as those blue eyes flutter open, weariness replacing confusion as she spots him. Without a word, he holds out his coffee cup—a peace offering he knows she probably won’t accept.

Her voice catches as she backs away, pulling the blanket tight around herself as she takes in the room, then the state she’s in. Her gaze snaps to him, accusation flaring. “Did you undress me? ” she exclaims, sounding so righteously appalled.

Alec can’t help but snort. “You did that yourself, sweetheart,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Or do you not remember your dramatic escape attempt? ”

Talia doesn’t look the tiniest bit sorry for it.

Her expression is all the more affronted at his words. “You kidnapped me! ” she exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Fire blazes in her ice-blue eyes, and his wolf practically purrs at the display of spirit.

“Impressive observation skills there, Watson,” he says, pleased with how the spark behind her irises intensifies. “Got any more where that came from? ”

“Why take me? ” she asks, clenching her fists.

“What do you want? ”

“Money,” Alec replies. “What else? ”

The half-truth tastes bitter on his tongue.

It’s not entirely true, lacking certain details—like the fact that his sister’s life had been in jeopardy, that he’d had no other choice but to take the job. The bottom line remains: if they hadn’t been lacking money, Jill wouldn’t have made a bad decision in the first place, wouldn’t have gotten herself in danger. Talia lifts her chin, a sneer curling her lips. “And you couldn’t get money any other way than through kidnapping?

” Her words are laced with sheer disdain. Alec’s wolf bristles at the taunt, because she isn’t entirely wrong. “Not all of us grow up in packs that answer our every beck and call, Princess,” he snaps. “You have no idea how I grew up.

”

“Talia Montrose,” she counters, letting each word fall like a stone. “The niece and heir of Alpha Richard Montrose, Grimrock Pack’s leader up north. Engaged to mate with Alpha Graham Norfold, whose reputation speaks for itself. Should I go on?

”

Talia snorts, lifting her nose in the air in a pure display of aristocratic disdain. “Don’t bother,” she says. “I won’t be here long enough for it to matter. ”

“Oh?

” Amusement colors his voice, masking the way his wolf snarls at the confidence in her tone. “You won’t? ”

Talia’s eyes shine with steely resolve as a slow, spreading smirk stretches her pink lips. “You’ve committed a grave offense—taking what belongs to an Alpha.

Surely you know that? ”

Alec raises an eyebrow. “You think your great love will save you? ” The words come out harsher than intended, the thought of Graham touching her making his blood run hot.

“I know he will,” Talia declares, eyes sparkling with genuine pride. “He’s the strongest, most powerful Alpha for miles—if not the entire country. And I’m his. He’ll make you pay for this.

You’ll be sorry. You’ll see. ”

Alec rolls his eyes, trying to tame down his fury. “If your Alpha’s so great and all-powerful, how did I manage to take you?

”

Talia’s scent spikes with fury—wild honey turning to lightning before a storm. It makes his blood sing, makes him want to see just how bright that fire can burn. “Drink,” he orders, holding out the coffee again. “You need to warm up.

”

Defiance marks her features, but the shift in her scent is telling. Looks like the proud little princess enjoys being bossed around. “Do as I say,” he insists, delighted by the way her pupils dilate at that. She takes the cup slowly, eyes never leaving his.

Alec grins. Then the coffee hits his face in a scalding splash. By the time he clears his eyes, Talia’s already fled halfway to the door—a flash of pale skin and determination. Talia rushes down an unfamiliar hallway, primal instinct driving her forward.

She needs to get away. Rich wooden walls blur past as she desperately searches for a way out. The stone fireplace’s glow catches the bay window ahead. Freedom.

Her wolf surges beneath her skin, ready to shift. She slams into a wall of muscle before she can react. Strong hands spin her around, pinning her against the cold wooden panels. “Keep still,” she hears, low against her ear.

Her captor’s body cages her, raw power radiating from every taut line of him. Her wolf should cower. Instead, it rises to meet the challenge. “I said keep still,” he growls.

But Talia is beyond listening. She twists, claws emerging, and swipes at his chest. He catches her wrists in one hand, forcing them above her head. The display of strength makes her gasp, heat flooding her cheeks.

“Let me go! ” she yelps, each word coming out as a snarl. But her wolf purrs at his answering rumble. “Make me.

” He purrs, his breath warm against her skin. She bucks against his hold, and his other hand clamps on her hip, fingers digging in with bruising force. The pain-pleasure of it tears a whimpered sound from her throat. His scent overwhelms her—pine and smoke and male hunger—turning her thoughts to smoke.

She struggles, writhes, bucks, until he bears his teeth against her throat. The sharp press of fangs makes her moan, and she arches into him even as her mind screams to fight. “There’s a good girl,” he murmurs against her pulse, and God help her, the praise liquefies her bones. His grip gentles, rewarding her submission.

And that’s when she strikes, twisting hard, almost breaking free. That’ll teach him. But he’s faster, stronger. The world spins as he slams her back against the wall, his thigh wedging between hers to pin her in place.

Talia’s cheeks burn from the feel of it. How dare he. “Stubborn thing,” he growls, but there’s dark appreciation in his voice that makes her shiver. She closes her eyes, focusing all her energy on keeping still.

If she lowered her body a couple inches, she’d feel the press of his thigh where she aches. The thought makes her moan. His scent, thick and rich and very aroused, is doing things to her, making her dizzy and breathless and not herself. “Open your eyes,” he commands.

The order feels like a caress, too tempting to ignore. “Look at me. ”

Talia does. His face—his impossibly beautiful face—hovers inches from hers, his pupils blown wide with a hunger that leaves her speechless.

They’re both panting, breath mingling, the air between them electric. Then his gaze drops to her mouth, and Talia’s heart thunders. He jerks back with a low curse. Before she can process the loss, he’s hauling her down the hall and back to her room.

The door slams behind her with a final click. Talia slides to the floor, trembling. What is this madness? Why does every bruise from his grip feel like a brand she wants to keep?

She can still feel the graze of his fangs against her throat, still smell his scent—pine and smoke darkening to raw male hunger. She presses her forehead to her knees. She needs to think. She needs to leave.

Her wolf paces restlessly, already planning the next escape attempt. Alec stumbles away from Talia’s door, his wolf raging beneath his skin. Her scent clings to him—wild honey turned lightning, sharp with fear underlaid with something darker that makes his fangs ache. He’d been rough, primal, everything he shouldn’t be with a terrified captive.

Yet his wolf howls to go back, to finish what they started, to claim. He forces himself down the basement steps, trying to outrun the guilt that wars with his hunger. Her distress calls to something protective in him, even as her defiance awakens something far more dangerous. He needs distance.

Needs to remember why he’s here, what’s at stake. The promised satellite phone sits on a dusty shelf. The number burns in his memory like a brand. One ring, then silence on the other end.

Alec steps outside, boots crunching in fresh snow. The mountains loom around the cabin like ancient guardians, indifferent to the dramas playing out in their shadow. “We’ve reached the safe house with difficulty,” he reports, keeping his voice neutral despite how his wolf bristles at having to report it at all. A sound catches his attention—the soft scrape of determination against metal.

His eyes track to the cabin’s rear, where Talia is currently wedged halfway out a bathroom window, yanking furiously at the iron bars with admirable stubbornness. “Are you certain you haven’t been detected? ” The voice on the other end remains carefully neutral. Talia lets out a frustrated grunt, straining against bars that won’t budge.

Her hair catches the morning light like spun gold, and Alec finds himself smirking despite the tension coiling in his gut. “If I have, there’s been no repercussions. ” It’s all he can promise while watching his captive attempt the impossible. “And the girl?

” he calls out, loud enough for Talia to hear. “Shaken, but unharmed. ”

Her head snaps up, blue eyes widening as they meet his. He offers a cheerful wave.

The growl she lets out sounds distinctly unladylike. “Good. Wait for further instructions. ”

The line goes dead, leaving Alec alone with his thoughts and the sight of Talia still determinedly trying to squeeze through a space half her size despite being completely caught.

The mountain winds howl around them, carrying the promise of another storm. Alec doesn’t mind waiting. But something tells him his fierce little captive won’t see it the same way. At least the view’s entertaining.

Three weeks. The realization hits Talia as she watches snowflakes spiral past her window. Three weeks, and no sign of Graham or the pack. She traces the mountain peaks in the distance and sighs.

She’s in Redmaine pack territory—she’s certain now. The ancestral lands of her intended’s oldest enemies, where centuries of blood feuds have carved borders deeper than the valleys between their territories. Her engagement to Graham had been strategic, a show of strength meant to pressure the Redmaines. And now here she is, deep in enemy territory, a pawn in the very game she was meant to help win.

But a different kind of restlessness plagues her instead of betrayal. The need to prove herself, to show she’s more than just a political piece to be moved across territorial lines. More than just a prize to be claimed or bargained for in this ancient feud. Talia has learned her captor’s rhythms like a dance she can’t stop performing.

Every day at dawn, he steps outside to make his mysterious call, jaw tightening in that way that makes the scar near his temple more pronounced. He cooks at irregular hours but always hums under his breath when he does—some old melody she’s caught herself mimicking. He barely sleeps, and only then does he lock her door, as if he doesn’t trust himself during those vulnerable hours. She’s memorized other things too—details she tells herself are tactical but feel more like indulgence.

How his forest-green eyes catch gold in certain light. The way his hands flex when she enters a room. That half-smile that appears when she says something particularly defiant. His scent changes around her—pine and smoke deepening to something darker that makes her wolf preen.

When their gazes meet, his pupils blow wide, hunger written in every taut line of his body. He wants me, she thinks, and her wolf purrs at the knowledge. It’s a weapon she can use, a weakness to exploit. She ignores how her own scent spikes when he’s near, how her skin burns at the memory of his touch.

She has to escape, has to leave before the way he looks at her becomes more compelling than freedom. Before his scent feels more like home than her own packlands. Before this growing heat between them consumes them both. Use it against him, she tells herself firmly.

It’s your only chance. The migraine claws behind Alec’s eyes as he heads to the living room—a familiar torment now, one that only eases in Talia’s presence. These past weeks, the pain has grown worse: muscles cramping, skin too tight, wolf howling for contact. The distance between them feels physical, an ache that intensifies until he seeks her out, finding excuses to be near her.

He suspects she feels it too, sees it in the way she engineers their encounters. Her escape attempts have become less about freedom and more about forcing his hands on her. His wolf purrs at the memory of each capture: how she fights less, yields more, her scent spiking with something far sweeter than fear. How will his wolf react when his employers finally want retrieval?

His claws emerge at the mere idea, his wolf howling with possessive rage. *Mine. Mine. Mine.

*

But he has no right to claim her. Alec pauses in the doorway. He hadn’t expected to see more of Talia tonight, certainly not stretched out by the fire. Her cheeks are heated from the flames, the light painting her skin in warm flickering tones.

Her hair is wet—she must have just showered—and water drips down the elegant line of her neck, pearling on the curve of her breasts. He clears his throat. There’s a nearly empty bottle beside her, and the slight haze in her eyes tells him she’s had her fill. “You planning on finishing the entire thing by yourself, or what?

” He reaches for it on instinct, more to prevent her from getting too intoxicated than because he actually craves a drink. A silly sentiment, one the girl perceives much too easily. “Oh,” she pouts, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I didn’t know you cared.

”

“I don’t. ”

He does, and Talia knows it. She’s grown quite good at reading him. It’s unsettling—not necessarily unpleasant, being seen—but most times inconvenient.

It makes lying to her all the more difficult. She smiles at him, settles further into her chair, and bares her throat. “Are we ever going to address the elephant in the room? ” she asks, teasing.

Her voice pulls him back, low and challenging. Alec clenches his jaw, willing himself to keep his distance. But she just smiles, giving him a look that’s almost coy. Suddenly her eyes snap to his face like she’s trying to decipher something.

He reads the resolution settle upon her features, and it leaves him confused. She stands up, swaying a little but determined, and brushes against him as she passes, her scent keeping him still. She presses play on a small CD player, and music fills the room. “I love this song!

” Talia squeals, her eyes gleaming with childlike excitement that shouldn’t be so endearing. She begins to move, rolling her hips, hands drifting over her arms and shoulders. Every movement is inviting, and he can’t look away. “What are you doing?

” he asks, his voice low and rough. “Having fun. ” Her smile deepens, playful and taunting. She turns her back to him, hands sliding up her sides, drawing his gaze along every curve.

“I noticed you, you know,” Talia says, eyes closed. “At the bar. Watching me. ”

Her hips sway as she closes the distance, pushing Alec back onto a chair.

She straddles him, settles herself against his body. He never takes his eyes off her as she wiggles into his lap. “What are you doing? ” he whispers.

Her eyes glint, and she leans in, her mouth brushing his—the faintest hint of contact. “I thought it was obvious. ”

He can feel her heat, smell her need, and he’s lost. His hands settle on her waist almost instinctively.

“You want me, don’t you? ” She moves her hips precisely, tearing a revealing growl from him. “Don’t lie. I can feel it.

”

Her lips cover his before he can finish, and all his senses are captured by her. Her smell, the softness of her skin, the taste of booze on her tongue. She puts her hands behind his neck, presses her body closer, moves those damn hips again. He’s being rough—gripping her thighs, pulling her closer, biting her lower lip.

But she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she melts against him, lips parting beneath his, gasping softly as her fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on. His fingers slip higher up her thigh, and she moans, needy against his mouth, sliding her own hands under his shirt. Alec moves to her neck, breathing in her scent before biting violently into her flesh—not enough to tear skin, but enough to hurt.

Her scream is a mixture of surprise and pleasure. She pulls on his hair as he sucks on the bruised skin. “I need you,” she whispers against his ear, her voice burning with urgency. And then, amid the wild rush, he feels something—an odd prickle against his mind, a flicker of her thoughts.

Hazy with want, but underlaid with purpose. The suspicion is distant, drowned by the need to claim, to possess. His wolf won’t let him pull back, not when she’s finally submitting so beautifully, not when her taste and scent promise everything he’s been craving. She’s wrapped around him, her mouth warm and urgent against his, and he’s sinking, unable to stop.

Then a sharp sting at his neck snaps through the haze. He catches the look in her eyes—triumph mixed with something softer, almost resembling guilt. Realization hits him like a punch to the gut. But his strength is fading fast, the edges of his world darkening.

She’s the last thing he sees before darkness consumes him completely. The syringe clatters to the floor. Talia watches him slump in the chair, her wolf howling in protest, clawing at her insides like it’s being torn apart. His betrayed expression burns behind her eyelids—forest-green eyes widening in realization before the drugs pulled him under.

She can still taste him on her lips, still feel the phantom press of his fangs against her throat. This was the plan, she reminds herself fiercely. She’d had the syringe hidden in the chair cushion, had orchestrated everything perfectly. Except she hadn’t meant to get lost in his touch, hadn’t expected his kisses to be so addictively fierce.

Her body still thrums with denied need, skin burning where his hands gripped her. Think of Graham. Of the pack. What if her intended catches her kidnapper?

The Rival pack’s scheme would succeed, their alliance would crumble. She touches her neck where his fangs had scraped, wondering if she’ll carry his mark despite herself. And yet this guilt crushing her chest has nothing to do with Graham and everything to do with the unconscious wolf before her. Her fingers trace his jaw without permission, remembering how it had clenched when she ground against him.

He kidnapped you. He works for the Redmaines. He’s the enemy. But her wolf doesn’t care about pack politics.

It urges her to curl into his lap, to bury her face in his neck where his scent is strongest. Just being this close makes her dizzy with want. Pine and smoke and male, something that calls to something primal in her blood. Her wolf recognizes something in him that transcends loyalty, something that makes leaving feel like tearing herself in half.

Pain lances behind her eyes as she forces herself away. Her legs shake with each step toward her room, like her body physically rebels at the distance. She changes quickly, grabbing her prepared pack with trembling hands. In the kitchen, she stuffs provisions inside, trying to ignore how each movement away from him feels wrong.

His scent lingers on her skin, in her hair, making it impossible to think clearly. She should run, should take advantage of every second of his unconsciousness. Instead, she finds herself back at his side, fingers gentle on his cheek. Even unconscious, he affects her.

The strong line of his jaw, the scar near his temple she’d traced with her tongue minutes ago. Her wolf whines at the memory of his growls, how perfectly their bodies had fit together. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, horrified to feel tears threatening. He’s nothing—just her kidnapper, just the enemy.

She remembers his gentleness these past weeks, hidden beneath gruff commands. How he’d catch her during escape attempts with hands that could crush but chose to cradle instead. The lie tastes bitter on her tongue. She bursts outside, gulping cold air like salvation.

The storm whips snow around her—perfect cover for escape. But nausea rolls through her in waves, muscles screaming in protest with each step. Maybe she did drink too much, though she’d barely touched the whiskey, just wanted him to think she was vulnerable. The distance between them stretches like a physical chain, each step more agonizing than the last.

Her wolf paces frantically, howling to return to him. But she keeps moving. She must. She won’t let her treacherous body force her into a bond with the enemy.

With her kidnapper. Pain—that’s Alec’s first sensation. Then her lingering taste on his tongue—wild honey and betrayal. The fireplace holds only ashes.

Hours. She’s had hours. The leather chair still holds her shape, her scent, the ghost of her weight in his lap. An empty bottle lies toppled by the hearth.

Her staged vulnerability. Clever girl. His eyes snap open. The room spins—empty, wrong.

Darkness has fallen outside the windows. She’s gone. The realization hits like a physical blow. He stumbles to her room, drawn by instinct.

Her clothes still lie scattered on the bed—silk nightgown twisted in the sheets. The closet door hangs open, winter clothes missing. She’d planned this. He buries his face in the fabric, inhaling deeply.

The scent soothes and torments, makes his wolf thrash with violent need. Kitchen next. Cabinet doors left ajar. She’s taken provisions, enough for days.

Smart. Too smart. The migraine intensifies with every discovery, becomes something darker, something that feels like his soul being torn away. His boots pace grooves in the hardwood—three steps, turn, three steps—like a caged animal.

The walls close in, her scent surrounds him, mocking. Fury rises, irrational and primal. How dare she leave. How dare she.

His claws pierce his palms, blood dripping onto the hardwood. The pain is nothing compared to this hollow ache where she should be. He bursts through the door into bitter night. The storm has strengthened, snow whipping sideways, obscuring the tree line.

But there—footprints leading north, already half-filled with fresh powder. She’s favoring her right leg, steps uneven, exhausted, in pain. The mountain looms ahead, a black mass against a starless sky. The landscape mirrors his rage: stark, merciless, frozen.

Pines crack in the gale like gunshots. Branches reach like claws through whirling snow. Her trail weaves drunkenly between trees. She stumbled here, caught herself against rough bark.

Blood scents the air—she scratched her palm. Every mark of her suffering feeds his fury. The path she’s chosen hugs the mountain’s western face, where the tree cover is densest. Shelter from the wind.

From searching eyes. His clever, desperate mate. The storm works to erase her passage. Wind howls through the crags above, bringing sheets of fresh powder.

Temperature drops fast—too fast. Ice crystals form in his fur, but the cold can’t touch the fire in his blood. None of it matters. Nothing matters but finding her.

What will he do when he catches her? Because he will catch her. His wolf knows no other outcome. The trail winds deeper into shadow.

She’s struggling more now—frequent stops, wavering steps. The distance between them burns like poison. Each leap through deepening snow feels like moving through fire, but the pain only feeds his determination. A flash of consciousness brushes against his mind—fear, confusion, pain, that mirrors his own.

The contact makes his head spin, his wolf howl. She’s close. Every muscle coils with predatory anticipation. His mate.

His betrayer. His everything. The storm swallows his snarl as he pushes forward, letting instinct guide him toward her fading presence. Fresh tracks now.

The scent of her tears freezing in the bitter air. The wolf in him knows only one truth: she belongs to him. With him. The human in him knows nothing so certain.

Her scent grows stronger. Her consciousness flickers like a dying flame. He runs faster, torn between rage and terror. The forest thins.

An open clearing ahead, where the mountain meets the sky. What will he do when he reaches her? What will he do if he doesn’t? The sound pounds in Talia’s skull with each staggering step.

His hands in her hair. His eyes, intense and tender. Her pulse races, trying to pull her back to him. Keep moving.

Prove your worth. The pain blazes through her like fire, leaving her shaky and weak. She stumbles, the snow clawing at her ankles as the wind slices through her skin. None of it compares to the ache tearing her apart from within.

With every inch of distance, she’s being hollowed out. Fever blurs her vision. The world spins, white and cold. Her legs give way.

She catches herself against a tree, his scent still clinging to her like a ghost. She digs her claws into the bark, grounding herself through the pain. He’s nothing, she tells herself. You’re stronger than this.

But her thoughts shatter like glass. The storm devours her tears as she staggers on. She’s doing this for the pack, for Graham, for herself. Yet with each step, the agony intensifies.

Her wolf claws, pleading to turn back. This isn’t just guilt. Her wolf has known since their eyes first met, since that first touch sparked like wildfire—something ancient and unbreakable. Still, she pushes forward, determined to outrun this need that feels like dying.

The mountains loom ahead as snow blinds her. She stumbles into an open field, barren of cover. Strange crackling sounds echo beneath her feet as she steps onto the icy expanse. She pauses, then trudges on, torn between fear of being caught and desperate yearning to be found.

She feels him in her thoughts—his anger, fear, desperation entwined with her own until she can’t tell which is which. A powerful howl splits the air. She turns, heart racing. Through snow-laden branches, a massive wolf bursts into view, snarling, eyes locked on her.

She knows it’s him. Feels it in her bones. She freezes as ice cracks sharply beneath her feet. His eyes are furious.

She whines involuntarily, hand reaching for him. Then the ice gives way. The ground splinters with a thunderous crack. She gasps, stumbling back as her foot plunges through, water rising cold and biting.

The wolf stops at the lake’s edge, growl vibrating through the air. Their eyes meet. Fear grips her as the ice shifts again. She barely has time to breathe before the ground shatters completely.

Then she’s plunging down, ice swallowing her whole as dark water closes over her head. Jill squints at the crumpled map spread across her steering wheel, wondering for the hundredth time if she’s taken a wrong turn somewhere. Navigation isn’t her strong suit—that’s always been Alec’s thing, along with cooking anything more complicated than microwave burritos. God, she misses the idiot.

“Everything’s fine, squirt. Just busy with work. ” That’s what he’d said on their last call. But Jill knows her brother’s voice better than anyone—the strain in it, the careful way he’d chosen his words.

It’s the same tone he’d used years ago when they’d run out of food, trying to keep her from worrying. Some big brother he is, still trying to protect her while he’s the one in trouble. The scent of lavender and sage hits her nose as she climbs out of the car. Definitely witch territory.

The neighborhood looks like something straight out of a Brady Bunch rerun, all perfect little houses with perfect little fences. Must be nice, having somewhere permanent to call home instead of living life through a rearview mirror. Through the walls of the house she approaches, she picks up the sounds of children arguing about a stolen juice box. Normal kid problems—not the “which motel takes cash and doesn’t ask questions” kind of problems she and Alec had grown up solving.

The door swings open to reveal a witch who looks like she’s lost a battle with a jar of applesauce. The sticky-sweet smell mixes with her magic—fresh and wild, like wind through summer trees. The witch’s eyes narrow. “What do you want, shifter?

” Her hands come up, magic crackling like static around her fingers. Jill’s wolf bristles, but she tamps it down. Starting a territory dispute with a witch while her kids are home would land at the top of Alec’s top-ten dumbest things Jill has ever done list—right up there with the time she tried to adopt a stray dog that turned out to be a coyote. “Please,” Jill says, keeping her voice steady and her palms up.

“I just need information. I’m not here to cause trouble. ”

“I can’t help you. ” Fear flickers across the witch’s face as she tries to close the door.

“I want nothing to do with shifters. ”

Jill wedges her boot in the gap, desperation making her reckless. “I’m a rogue! I’m not with the local Alpha’s pack, I swear!

”

Tears burn her eyes before she can stop them. A memory slams into her—those cold eyes, the contract that had seemed so simple, the pain that followed. Fire coursing through her veins. And now Alec is suffering the same fate because he stepped in to save her.

As he always did. The witch’s expression softens, maternal instinct apparently overriding caution. “How old are you? ”

“Nineteen.

” Jill lied, trying for confidence but probably coming across more like a kid sneaking into an R-rated movie. The witch’s knowing look suggests she doesn’t buy it. “What do you want to know, kid? ”

“I need to know about a spell.

One that kills someone if they don’t do what they’re told. ” The words tumble out, each one making her skin crawl, her wolf whining uneasily at the wrongness of it. The witch recoils like Jill offered her a handful of wolf spines. “I don’t know anything about that.

No respectable witch would—”

“Please, there has to be something—”

“You’re speaking of dark magic,” the witch cuts her off, her voice sharp as glass. “The magic of the damned. I’ll have no part in it. ”

The door begins to close.

“Please, my brother will die! ” Jill slams her palm against the wood, no longer caring how desperate she sounds. “Alec is all I have left. Please, please tell me how to fight it.

”

Inside, a child starts crying. Silence stretches, broken only by the witch’s soft murmuring to her children. Then comes a rustling, and a small white card slides under the door. “Go to this address,” the witch’s voice is quieter now.

“Ask for Madame Elena. She’s the head of our coven. But kid… be careful what you go looking for.

Some doors, once opened, can’t be closed again. ”

Jill snatches up the card, hope fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest. The address is for a shop two towns over. As she walks back to her car, the witch’s warning lingers on the lavender-scented breeze.

Her wolf paces restlessly, instincts screaming that she’s treading on dangerous ground. But what choice does she have? That Alpha may have forced Alec’s loyalty, but he doesn’t own hers. If there’s even a chance of saving Alec, she’ll walk through every door in hell to find it.

She owes him that much. She was the one who’d made a deal with this dangerous Alpha—the one somehow gifted with what the witch had called the Magic of the Damned. And because of her, her brother was now stuck doing his bidding. Some color is returning to Talia’s cheeks, warming the deathly pallor that had gripped her when Alec pulled her from the lake.

Faint tremors still run through her body despite the steam rising from the bathwater, but she’s bound to wake up soon. He should leave. Should have left the moment he’d gotten her warm enough that the blue tinge had left her lips. Because if he doesn’t, he just might start petting her hair, which…

well, inappropriate. His feet remain stubbornly rooted to the bathroom floor. The thought of walking away feels like someone has wrapped barbed wire around his lungs. Then Talia’s eyes flutter open, and leaving is no longer an option.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. Her confusion ripples through him like a stone dropped in still water, followed by a wave of relief that makes his knees weak. She’s relieved he’s here. The realization is as intoxicating as it is terrifying, because the fact that he can feel her emotions at all is just another nail in the coffin of what he’s been trying to deny.

Apparently, the universe hasn’t quite finished laughing at him yet. “Your name is Alec,” she says suddenly. Her voice is quiet—more observation than question, like she’s finally allowing herself to know something she’s suspected all along. “Yes.

” The word comes out like gravel. She sighs, turning her head away. “And you’re my mate, aren’t you? ” Steam curls around her face as she speaks, her voice eerily calm.

Christ. Something inside him wants to snarl, to run far and fast from the truth that’s been circling them like a noose slowly tightening. His mate. The woman he’d been paid to kidnap, to use as a pawn in another man’s game.

If there’s a cosmic joke here, he’s definitely the punchline. “I suppose,” he manages, gruff. A snort escapes her. “You suppose.

” She sinks lower in the water. “Being away from you nearly killed me. And I can read your thoughts at times. Feel what you feel.

” She trails off, troubled. Before he can stop himself, Alec reaches out and smooths her wet hair back from her forehead. The contact sends a jolt through them both. “Does it not feel the same for you?

”

Talia’s eyes meet his again, vulnerability written across her face. Beautiful, he thinks. And feels her catch the edge of it through their strengthening bond. Damn it.

She is beautiful. And the memory of her absence is like acid in his veins. He remembers the blind panic when he’d realized she was gone—like having a limb amputated, except the phantom pain was everywhere at once. And then the ice, watching her disappear beneath the surface, had been like having his heart ripped out.

He’d felt her consciousness dimming, a light being slowly extinguished, and known with absolute certainty that if she died, he would follow. “You should get some rest,” he manages, feeling terribly at loss. He turns away before she can see whatever is written across his face, closing the bathroom door behind him with trembling hands. “You have to let me go,” Talia says, calling him back.

“If you don’t, our bond will only grow. And then there will be no turning back. ”

“I can’t,” Alec snaps, because he thought of it, and she’s right of course. But he really can’t.

“Whatever your employer is paying you, my fiancé will double gladly. ” Talia insists, pressing her hands together. Her wide blue eyes turn imploring, cutting right through Alec’s heart. “He can offer you protection.

If you’re afraid of retribution, we can make sure your boss can’t—”

“Your Alpha is my boss, Talia. ” Alec says, lowering his eyes. Suddenly, the hard truth of it all is too horrifying to bear. Possibly because, as his words settle, he can feel Talia’s growing confusion, horror, and denial making it all worse.

But mostly because it hits Alec that he’s helped someone close to her betray his mate. And there’s no escaping that. “What? ” Talia asks, and the panicked pulse of her heart practically chokes him.

“Graham Norfold. Your fiancé. He’s who I’m working for,” Alec repeats. “He paid me to take you.

”

Talia shifts in the water. He manages to look at her and immediately regrets it. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “You’re lying,” Talia snaps.

“I’m not. ” He sighs, meeting her eyes. “You know I’m not. ”

Talia looks like she’s been slapped—which she might as well have, for it probably would have hurt less.

“Why would my own fiancé… ” She pauses, realization hitting her features. “Because of the Redmaine clan. That’s why we’re hiding on their territory, isn’t it?

So he can blame my abduction on them, get other packs on his side, and have a reason to inflict retribution. ”

Her mouth twists with disgust. “Perhaps,” Alec says with a shrug. “I didn’t ask.

”

“Your actions could start a war. And yet you didn’t ask? ” Talia barks, eyes wild with sudden fury. “Hey, if not me, he’d have found somebody else to carry out his plans.

Don’t blame me for all your pack politics, princess. I’m a rogue. None of it concerns me. ”

“Oh sure,” Talia sneers.

“None of this is your fault. Keep telling yourself that. ”

Alec bites back his words. He understands her anger.

If he were being honest with himself, he’d never have taken the job if not to save Jill’s life. And if he hadn’t put two and two together regarding Graham’s true intention behind the kidnapping… it wasn’t just because he didn’t care much about pack politics. It was because he’d done his best not to think too much about it.

“Look,” he says gruffly. “Your Alpha knows where you are. He’ll eventually come to your rescue. You can tell him how you feel about all this then.

But in the meantime, there’s nothing I can do. ”

Then, too guilty to wait for her answer, he flees from the bathroom, his wolf howling in protest at putting even that much distance between him and Talia. He makes it exactly twelve steps before having to stop. His body refuses to go further, like a dog hitting the end of its leash.

Cursing under his breath, he slides down the wall outside her room and sits on the floor, close enough to hear her steady breathing, to feel the warm hum of her presence in the back of his mind. She’s alive. She’s safe. For now.

It will have to be enough. For the first time in her life, Talia has no idea what she’s supposed to do. She’s been brought up taught to expect and do certain things, but now it all amounts to nothing. The man she is meant to mate with—the one who was supposed to help bring peace and prosperity to her pack—is most likely aiming to use her and her people for war.

Instead of protecting her, he’s had her kidnapped. Meanwhile, her kidnapper. Her enemy. She is bound to him by fate.

Logic dictates she should convince Alec to let her speak to Graham, so she can convince him to bring her back home before she and her kidnapper become so intrinsically tied they can no longer be apart. But she doesn’t want to go to Graham. Doesn’t want to face what his actions mean. Doesn’t want to examine that, when Graham realizes Talia has found her fated mate, their tentative alliance might come to blows.

And Alec… can she even leave him now? Does she even want to? The memory of that bone-deep agony when she tried to escape still haunts her.

But Alec is avoiding her. He doesn’t care about what might happen to her or her pack. He doesn’t care. Talia feels stuck.

Paralyzed. A day passes, then another, during which they avoid each other like the plague. Thinking becomes harder, as if her thoughts are wrapped in cotton. Talia believes she hasn’t recovered from the lake.

It feels like she’s growing a fever. It’s stupid—shifters don’t get sick. Yet there’s a slight dizziness that makes the edges of the world soft, a shimmer of heat beneath her skin that comes and goes like waves on a shore, until the ebb and flow becomes one inescapable pull. Her wolf seeks Alec out instinctively, like a flower turning toward the sun.

The word mate feels foreign on her tongue but right in her soul, as if it’s always been there, waiting to be discovered. They dance around each other in careful orbits—a brush of hands when passing, coffee knees touching under the dinner table, fingers lingering on shoulders just a moment too long. Days blur together. The fever grows.

Her skin feels too tight, too hot, like she’s being slowly consumed from within. The restlessness builds in both of them. She can feel Alec’s growing discomfort echoing through their bond, a mirror of her own. There’s no escape, she realizes, lying in bed.

It’s too late now. The world swims in a haze of heat and need. Her thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm. Where is Alec now?

She feels dazed. She doesn’t know what time it is, nor does she care. All she cares about is that he isn’t here. Her skin burns, sensitive against the damp sheets that twist around her like bonds.

A whimper escapes her throat—high, needy, desperate. Through their bond, she catches flashes of Alec’s consciousness: anger, fear, and something wild that makes her snort. Silly mate. Fighting what they both need.

He’d feel better if he’d just come to her, let her soothe away his worries with touches and kisses. The thought trails off as she stumbles from the bed, barely registering the cool air against her fevered skin. Clothes seem like a distant, unnecessary concept. All that matters is following his scent—rich and dark, like earth after rain, making her mouth water and her head spin.

A familiar warmth leads her through the darkened hallway, each step filling her senses with a sweet, dizzying rush of his presence. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? She finds herself in his room—a sanctuary of his scent, so perfectly him that it draws a moan from her throat.

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. She tries to stop herself, grabs one of his shirts, tells herself it will do, aims to leave. But then she sinks onto his bed, buries herself in sheets that smell of pine and smoke and male, and she shivers.

Unbearable pleasure courses through her. It feels so right—their scents mingling, his and hers, intoxicating. She seeks more, rubs against it, savors the subtle friction. It sparks a thrill that spirals into a restless ache, deep and insistent.

She fully lets herself sink into the sensation. There’s no turning back. Why isn’t he here though? She wonders, confused.

She closes her eyes and reaches out, imagining his hands on her, the roughness of his palms against her skin. The imagined sensation of his teeth on her neck. A sharp cry tears from her lips. She arches her back, her hands fisting the sheets.

Each shift of her hips, each slide of her fingers—it’s as if he’s pulling her close, pressing against her. She gasps, a strangled sound of pure longing. And somewhere in the house, she feels him fighting a losing battle against the same primal need that’s consuming her. Their shared desire building like a storm about to break.

Alec’s fist connects with the tree trunk, bark splintering beneath his knuckles. Again. Again. But it’s not enough to drown out the need burning through his veins.

His breath comes in harsh pants, crystallizing in the frigid air. He whirls, and his wolf snarls, wanting more—more pain, more blood, anything to distract from the pull of her. It’s useless. Five miles of running through snow-laden forest hadn’t helped.

Neither had picking fights with innocent trees. He’s caught between duty and desire. He knows what will happen to them both if he gives in. He’s seen what happens to those who betray Graham Norfold.

The memory of his sister’s screams echoes in his mind—the way she’d writhed in agony, blood streaming from her nose and ears as the Alpha’s curse took hold. But logic is slipping away like sand through his fingers, replaced by a bone-deep certainty that having Talia, even for a moment, would be worth any price. He’d sworn then that he’d never bow to anyone, never let himself be owned. Yet he’d bowed to an Alpha to save his sister, trading his freedom for her life.

He thinks he’ll bow down to Talia, even if it costs him his life. Her consciousness brushes against his mind, and she’s thinking of him. At first it’s distant, a soft sensation woven into his thoughts. But then…

then it feels like her body is writhing beneath his own hands, like he’s drinking the soft gasps of pleasure escaping her lips. Desire slams through him, his need raw and unfiltered. He tries to shut it out, but she’s there, vivid. Her soft, needy sounds threading through his mind.

He can feel her hands roaming her body, each touch clawing at his restraint. It shreds with every beat of her need. His breathing shallows, turning to ragged pants. Something in him snaps.

Every thought, every rational piece of himself crumbles as he’s overtaken by a deep, primal drive to claim. He’s drawn forward, muscles coiled, ready. Every nerve honed to a singular purpose. All he wants…

all he needs… is her. His mind sharpens. His vision narrows.

He has to have her. Feel her. Make her yield. Her scent hits him like a physical blow the moment he opens the door.

Sweet and wild and his. She sprawled across his bed, all pale skin and golden hair, looking like every fantasy he’s never allowed himself to have. His wolf snarls in approval at the sight of her, at the pleasure at the way her hips move against the sheets. “Need a hand, darling?

” The words are growled. He’s already moving forward. In two strides he has her. The kiss is all teeth and need, tastes like blood, and something in him howls.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Her fingers pull his hair until he has her pinned, settling between her thighs like he was made to be there—which he was, since she belongs to him.

She keens when his mouth finds her throat. Through their bond, he feels her pleasure spiral higher, drawing his own along with it. The silk of her skin, the thunder of her pulse, the way she gasps his name like it’s sacred. Their shared need builds like a storm, pleasure echoing between them until he can’t tell where his ends and hers begins.

His fangs scrape against her throat, right where her pulse beats strongest. She shivers. “Yes? ” he manages, though he doesn’t think he could take no for an answer.

Her nods are frantic, her eyes glazed with desire, her lips parted on breathless gasps. “Yes. Yes, please. ”

When his fangs pierce her flesh, the world explodes into light and sensation.

The mating bond snaps into place with the taste of her blood, the rush of completion, and the way she screams his name. The shop sits wedged between a laundromat and a defunct video rental store, its windows crowded with more floral patterns than Jill has ever seen in her life. She stands there for a moment, squinting at the pink and red roses climbing across curtains that look like they were stolen from some old lady’s living room. But she isn’t here to judge interior decoration choices.

She’s here for answers about dark magic, and to help her brother. The thought sits heavy in her gut, an anchor dragging her forward as she approaches the door. The bell above the door chimes as she steps inside, and Jill freezes mid-step, her wolf bristling at the sudden shift in reality. Gone are the flowery nightmares and delicate tea tables.

Instead, she finds herself in what looks like the aftermath of a library having a midlife crisis. Dark wooden shelves tower toward a ceiling she can barely see, their edges softened by dust. Books are crammed into every available space, some stacked so precariously they seem to defy gravity. And despite the fact that it was definitely nighttime about two seconds ago, golden morning light streams through tall windows she swears weren’t there before.

She whirls around, her enhanced reflexes making her movement sharp and precise. Outside, the sun sits high in a cloudless sky, like night never existed at all. “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.

”

Jill spins toward the voice, her wolf instantly alert. A young woman stands between two towering shelves, armed with what has to be the world’s most ineffective broom given the state of the place. She has strawberry-blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and everything about her screams harmless human—from her paint-splattered jeans to the pencil stuck behind her ear. “Are you Madame Elena?

” Jill asks, though she already knows the answer. The woman blows a strand of hair from her face. “Do I look like a Madame anything to you? ”

Jill has to admit she has a point.

Unless Madame Elena is really into vintage band T-shirts and mismatched socks, this definitely isn’t her. But then who is she? And more importantly, how did Jill just walk into her store? “Look,” the woman says, “I might be young, but typically I come with complete architectural overhauls.

”

The strawberry blonde frowns. “What? ” Then realization dawns on her features. “Oh, I get it.

You were portaled here. I was wondering what that was. ”

Jill blinks. “Magic brought you to the store because of your strong desire to make a wish,” the blonde woman explains before sighing.

“So… no chance you’d come back tomorrow? ”

Jill frowns, catching scents that don’t quite make sense—old paper and fresh rain, wild flowers and wood smoke, and underneath it all something ancient that makes her hackles rise. “So you do have magic?

” she asks. “Please,” a man’s voice says. “Iris is about as magical as a microwave dinner. ”

Jill turns toward the voice and nearly steps back.

The man who enters seems to pull shadows with him—tall and lean, with eyes like green glass that catch the light wrong. Too bright. Too sharp. Her wolf’s hackles rise instantly.

This man has magic, all right. And it clings to him like an oil slick. Dark and slippery. It reminds her of Graham—of how the air had felt heavy and wrong just before her blood started to burn.

“Iris,” the man draws, “what exactly have you done to my store? ”

The blonde, Iris, waves her useless broom at the chaos around them. “Cleaning it. This store can’t be cleaned.

It likes dust. ”

“Well, why haven’t you told me that? ”

“I have, Adrien. ”

Jill clears her throat, then does it again, louder, when they continue their domestic squabble.

“Oh! ” Iris brightens. “Adrien, this is actually— I don’t know your name, but she’s here to make a wish. ”

Adrien’s attention shifts to Jill, and something in her wants to bare her teeth.

Her wolf doesn’t like this man’s aura one bit. Even if—and the thought catches her off guard—his face isn’t exactly hard to look at. “I don’t want to make any wishes,” Jill says quickly. “I just need information about black magic.

”

Adrien moves closer, cat-like, eyes narrowing as he studies her. He smells like old books and something burnt. When he stops mere inches away, looming over her, Jill has to fight the urge to step back. “Isn’t she a bit young for you?

” Iris asks dryly. Adrien ignores her, head tilted as he examines Jill like she’s a particularly interesting specimen. “There are traces of my magic on you. ”

Ice slides down Jill’s spine.

Her suspicions were right. This man practices dark magic. Whatever he is, whatever he does… it can’t be good.

She takes a nervous step back. “Adrien, what did you do to her? ” Iris’s voice has lost its playful edge. “Nothing that I know of.

” His eyes haven’t left Jill’s face. “Why are you here, little wolf? What do you want to know? ”

Jill hesitates, but Alec’s face flashes in her mind.

Whatever this man is, he might be her only chance. “My brother’s in danger because of me. He’s got tangled up with a dangerous Alpha. ”

“Dangerous Alpha?

” Adrien asks, while Iris begins to mutter something about yet another Alpha under her breath. “We needed money,” Jill pursues, the words spilling out in a rush. “I wanted to help for once, instead of always relying on Alec. There was this Alpha looking for a rogue to retrieve someone from another territory.

The pay was insane. He made me swear not to tell anyone about the job, even if I got caught. I didn’t get caught, but I failed. And when I told Alec about it to ask for help, I started getting sick.

”

“Sick how? ” Adrien’s face suddenly looks a little pale. Well, paler than the already sickly complexion he had before. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Jill replies.

“It was like my blood was boiling. Like it was trying to escape my body. ”

Adrien pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what kind of magic this is?

” Jill asks, desperate now. “My brother begged the Alpha to save me, said he’d do anything. I got better, but now Alec’s gone on some mission, and I know he’s in trouble, and—”

“Stop. ” Adrien’s voice cuts through her rambling.

He looks tired suddenly, ancient despite his young face. “I know exactly what kind of magic this is. And if your brother made a deal with who I think he did… ”

Adrien’s gaze grows distant, like he’s seeing something far, far beyond the dusty shelves and morning light.

Something in his expression makes Iris step closer to him, her hand twitching like she wants to reach out but knows better. Jill doesn’t. “Please,” she presses, stepping closer despite her instincts screaming at her to run. “If you know anything that could help my brother—”

Jill interrupts herself, because there are shadows around Adrien now that seem to deepen.

She doesn’t know how she’d missed them before. They’re everywhere. “You need to leave. ” Iris’s voice is firm as she moves between them.

Jill would have been touched, if it didn’t feel like she was shielding Adrien rather than protecting Jill from him. “Graham Norfold. ” Adrien’s voice cuts like a blade. “The Alpha you’re speaking of is Graham Norfold, right?

”

The name hits Jill like a physical blow. “You know him? ”

A bitter smile twists Adrien’s mouth. “You could say that.

And you’re right to be afraid. He’s not just dangerous—he’s lethal. Betrayal means death. ”

“What do you mean?

” Jill’s voice sounds small, even to her own ears. “He has the power to create binding contracts. ” Adrien’s eyes meet hers. “Break your word to him, and the magic turns your own body against you.

Like your blood trying to boil its way free. ”

Jill’s hands start shaking as the pieces click into place. Her failed mission. The searing pain.

Alec’s desperate deal. “But shifters can’t— I’ve never heard of any wolf having that kind of power. ”

“Of course not. ” Adrien’s laugh is hollow.

“Because it’s not his power at all. ”

Something cold settles in Jill’s stomach. “Then who’s—”

“It’s mine. Graham Norfold has that power because I gave it to him.

”

The silence that follows is deafening. Even the dust motes seem to freeze in the air. “Your Alpha is going to kill me,” Alec’s words rumble against the crown of Talia’s head, his earlier contentment giving way to a tense groan. Talia isn’t sure what time it is, or what day, for that matter.

Not that she cares. She feels too good—lousy and warm, pressed against Alec’s bare chest. Their newly sealed bond glows bright and soothing in her mind, letting her feel not just his skin against hers but the pleased, satisfied hum of his thoughts threaded through with possessive pride. Or at least, it had been, until this moment.

She turns in his arms, melting at the sight of his face. One she’s growing to know intimately and can’t tire of studying. His pronounced pout makes her laugh. “I’m serious,” he insists.

“He’s going to kill me dead. ”

“And what a shame that would be. ” Talia writhes against him deliberately, pressing a light, suggestive kiss to his lips. Alec melts into it despite himself.

“Well, nice to know you’re not the tiniest bit concerned about my impending doom. ”

She straddles his hips, dropping her mouth to the claiming mark on his neck. His whole body relaxes instantly, predictably, and she smiles against his skin. “I’m very concerned,” she murmurs, nipping gently.

“You’re not,” he groans as she kisses the mark again. Talia loves the sounds he makes when she kisses him there. Loves every sound he makes, really. Loves him.

Which is insane. She barely knows him. She knows his body now, can feel some of his thoughts and emotions through their bond. But there’s still so much to learn.

Then again, she has time for that, doesn’t she? “What are your parents like? ” she asks, teeth grazing his collarbone. “Dead,” Alec quips.

Heat rushes to her cheeks. “I’m sorry—” She presses an apologetic kiss to his lips. The simple contact ignites something desperate in them both. His hands slide up her bare back, pulling her closer as his tongue traces the seam of her lips.

She opens for him with a soft moan, shivering as his fingers thread through her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. The bond between them pulses with shared pleasure, every touch magnified. His other hand skims down her side, mapping the curve of her waist, her hip, her thigh, leaving trails of fire in its wake. She arches into his touch, drinking in the taste of him—the intoxicating mix of wild forest and something uniquely Alec that makes her head spin.

When his teeth graze her bottom lip, she whimpers, hands splaying across the hard planes of his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath her palm. When they break apart, she tries again, breathless. “So, any siblings? ”

“Yes.

Let’s review my entire family tree. It’s such a turn-on. ”

She smacks his arm playfully, but she’s already caught it—a flash of worry in his thoughts, and a name: Jill. Her head snaps up immediately.

“Who’s Jill? ” she exclaims. The jealousy in her voice makes him laugh outright. “My sister,” he replies, his thumbs tracing circles on her hips.

Talia relaxes, settling more comfortably against him. “I was raised by my uncle,” she offers. “His daughters are like sisters to me. ”

She loses her train of thought as Alec’s hands begin to roam, his touch leaving trails of heat on her skin.

“Maybe,” he murmurs against her neck, “we could enjoy this while we still can, without any mentions of sisters. ”

She catches the underlying worry in his tone. “It’ll be fine,” she assures him, running her fingers through his hair. “I’ll talk to Graham.

He’ll understand. ”

Alec’s skeptical look makes her press on. “Everyone knows there’s nothing you can do against fated bonds. Besides,” she adds with a hint of steel in her voice, “it’s the least he could do, for having me kidnapped.

Leaving my mate alive. ”

His response is lost as desire begins to cloud her thoughts again. Their bond amplifying everything until she can’t tell where her arousal ends and his begins. His mouth finds hers, and she surrenders to the heat building between them.

All thoughts of Graham forgotten in the sanctuary of their shared pleasure. Adrien reaches for a bottle tucked between two ancient tomes, pouring amber liquid into a glass that materializes from nowhere. His hands shake slightly, though his voice remains steady. “Graham Norfold came to me when he’d just become Alpha.

Paranoid. Power-hungry. Convinced his own pack would tear out his throat the moment he turned his back. ”

“And you decided to help him with that?

” Jill can’t keep the accusation from her voice. Adrien’s laugh is bitter as he downs his drink. “He wished for a way to ensure no one could ever betray him. So I gave him one.

”

“You don’t say,” Jill snaps. “Talk about having the ultimate Alpha’s command. Whatever Graham wants, he gets. Or the person he gave his order to dies.

”

“And what did you take in exchange? ” Iris asks softly, her eyes fixed on Adrien’s long fingers as they clench around his glass. “His humanity. ” The words fall like lead between them.

“The ability to feel empathy. Remorse. I stripped it all away. ”

“You *what*?

” Jill whirls from where she’s been pacing between the shelves, sending a stack of books tumbling. “You’re telling me you gave unlimited power to a paranoid Alpha and then made him incapable of basic human emotion? ”

Iris steps forward. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand plenty!

” Jill knows she should probably shut up. Yelling at someone powerful enough to make Graham Norfold lethal isn’t exactly smart. But she can’t stop. “You handed a loaded gun to a power-hungry douche and took away his conscience!

Do you have any idea how many people you’ve put in danger? How many lives you’ve ruined? ”

Adrien just watches her, something ancient and tired in his eyes, as he pours another drink. “He has no choice,” Iris cuts in, her voice sharp.

“When someone comes seeking a wish, he has to grant it. ”

“Then he’ll grant mine. ” Jill rounds on Adrien. “You’ll help me fix this.

Grant me a wish. For a price. ”

Adrien sets down his glass, exchanging a look with Iris. “Whatever you love most.

And believe me, it’s not usually what you expect. Graham didn’t think he’d lose his humanity. ”

Jill blinks. This doesn’t sound very promising.

But it’s not like she has a choice here. “Fine,” she says. “Anything. Just cancel Graham’s wish.

That’s what I want. ”

“I can’t. ” Adrien draws slowly, like the words cost him. “A wish once granted can’t be taken back.

Only death breaks the magic. ”

“Whose death? ” Jill demands. “Graham’s.

” Adrien’s smile is razor-thin. “And I’m immortal. ”

“Meaning what—you don’t age, or you can’t be killed? ”

The magician gives her a dispassionate look.

“Care to find out? ” he says, meeting her eyes. Jill’s legs give out, and she sinks onto a nearby chair that definitely wasn’t there a moment ago. “So whatever Graham’s making my brother do…

if Alec fails—”

Adrien won’t meet her eyes, staring instead into his empty glass like it holds answers. The reality of it hits Jill like a physical blow. Alec is trapped. Bound by magic she led him into.

And there’s nothing she can do. Nothing that she can think of, anyway. Alec flips another pancake, letting the familiar motion ground him while his thoughts drift to Talia sleeping upstairs. Their bond hums contentedly, still new and raw like a fresh bruise—the good kind, the type that comes from nights spent learning each other’s bodies, from finally giving in to what they both needed.

His wolf purrs at the memory of her submission, her trust, the way she fits against him like she was made for him. But reality is a cold bastard. Sooner or later, they’ll have to face Graham Norfold. Talia thinks it’ll be simple, that Graham will understand, that he’ll let them go.

She doesn’t know the man like Alec does. Doesn’t know how he’d orchestrated her own kidnapping, how he’d somehow poisoned Jill when she’d failed him, then dangled the cure in exchange for Alec’s loyalty. The memory of his sister’s screams still haunts him, along with the calculating look in Graham’s eyes as he’d offered the deal. The satellite phone’s harsh ring cuts through his thoughts like a knife.

Alec tenses, realizing he hasn’t checked in for days. It’s only the Redmaine pack’s territory keeping Graham’s men from storming the cabin to verify their package is secure. His wolf bristles as he answers, protective instincts surging. The voice that greets him nearly makes him drop the phone.

“Hello, Alec. ”

In all his time here, Graham Norfold has never called directly. Cold dread pools in Alec’s stomach. “Sir,” he manages.

He watches Talia descend the stairs from his peripheral vision, wearing one of his shirts and looking soft and vulnerable in a way that makes his wolf want to hide her away forever. She waves, mouthing “who is it? ” He ignores her, focused on Graham’s voice. “I’ll assume everything is still going according to plan,” Graham says.

The warning in the words is clear as glass. “As we haven’t heard from you in a while. ”

Talia approaches, reaching for the phone. Alec steps back, shaking his head.

“Everything is fine. ”

“Good. ” Graham’s pleased tone sends chills down Alec’s spine. “So Talia is still there, then?

”

“Of course. About Talia, sir—”

“I want her dead. ”

The words hit like a physical blow. Alec’s world narrows to a pinpoint, his wolf howling in denial.

“I… what? ”

“You heard me. ” Graham’s voice carries the detached amusement of someone discussing the weather.

“Clean up all your prints around the house and dump her body by the side of the mountain. I expect you back here by this evening for debriefing. ”

“I will *not*—” Alec barks, making Talia startle. Her eyes meet his, concern written across her features as she picks up his distress through their bond.

“What’s happening? ” she whispers. “This was not our deal,” Alec insists. “Get it done, or you won’t live past sunrise.

”

“Why—” Graham barks, and the line goes dead. Static fills Alec’s head—maybe from the phone, maybe from the shock of being ordered to murder his mate. “What’s going on? ” Talia’s bright blue eyes are wide with growing fear.

“You’ve gone pale. ”

“Talia… ” The words stick in his throat. She reaches for him, but he holds up a hand, mind racing.

They need to run. Need to call Jill, get her somewhere safe. “Pack your things,” the words come out sharp. “We need to get out of here.

” His mind spins with plans—a rendezvous point, somewhere to hide them both while he convinces Graham the deed is done, buys them time. “Alec. ” Talia grabs his face between her hands, forcing him to focus. “Your nose is bleeding.

”

He wipes it away impatiently. “You know what? I’ll carry you to the car, in case somebody’s watching. ”

“Watching what?

” Real panic edges into her voice. “No choice now. He wants you dead. ” The words taste like ash.

“He told me to kill you. ”

Talia stumbles back, shock written across her features. “What? ”

“You heard me.

We need to get out of here. I’ll call my sister, and—”

The words choke off as his throat constricts. It feels like someone’s wrapped barbed wire around his windpipe and is slowly pulling it tight. “What’s going on?

” Talia’s voice seems to come from far away. His vision blurs as the first wave of agony hits. The taste of copper fills his mouth—his own blood, he realizes distantly. Just like Jill, when she’d broken her word to Graham.

Whatever power the man possesses, it’s already working, turning Alec’s body against itself for daring to choose his mate over his orders. Was it even poison he’d used on Jill, or something else entirely? “Alec, are you okay? ” Talia presses a glass of water to his lips, but he can barely swallow.

He’s chosen love over loyalty. And they’re both going to die for it. Alec’s blood stains the floorboards—crimson, each cough bringing more. Talia’s hands shake as she presses a cool cloth to his burning forehead, knowing it’s useless but unable to stop trying.

Her mate is dying in front of her. Graham wants her dead. The thought flits through her mind like a frightened bird, there and gone again. Because Alec is burning up, his skin hot enough to scald, and nothing makes sense.

He was fine a minute ago. They were making breakfast. Everything was normal. “Run.

” The word comes out wet with blood. Alec’s eyes flutter open, fever-bright. “You need to run. ”

“No.

” She clutches his hand tighter, feeling their bond pulse with shared agony. “I won’t leave you. ”

“He’ll send others. Pin it on the Redmaines.

” Alec winces. Each word seems to cost him. “Since when do you care about pack politics? ”

A ghost of a smile touches his bloodied lips.

“Since you—”

Something crackles in the air, making Talia’s wolf rear back in alarm. Magic tingles across her skin like static before a storm. Suddenly there’s a flash of light, bright enough to blind. Two figures materialize in her living room—a tall man with unsettling green eyes, and a girl who shares Alec’s features.

“His scent… are you Jill? ” The question comes out breathless with shock. “How did you—”

But Jill’s already moving, dropping beside her brother with a cry of panic.

“Alec! ”

“He’s sick,” Talia explains, eyes darting between Jill and the man. Dark magic clings to him like a second skin. “Please,” she turns to him, desperate.

“Can you help him? ”

“Don’t ask him for anything! ” Jill snaps, before rounding on her brother. “What does Graham want?

What did he order you to do? ”

Alec just groans, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Through their bond, Talia feels his life force dimming like a candle in the wind. “You have to do what he wants.

” Jill shakes his shoulders. “You’ll die if you don’t. Please, Alec. ”

The words hit Talia like a physical blow.

Die. She looks at the man for confirmation, and his grim nod makes her world tilt sideways. “Alec. ” Jill’s voice breaks.

“What does Norfold want? ”

“He wants me dead. ” The truth falls from Talia’s numb lips as the pieces click into place. Graham ordered Alec to kill her.

Alec refused. And now she stares at the blood he’s coughing up, feels the inferno of his fever through their bond. “He ordered Alec to kill me,” she whispers, horror stealing her breath. Jill’s eyes snap to her with lethal intent.

“I’ll hold her down. Kill her, Alec. ”

The look Alec gives his sister would be terrifying if not for the way pain twists his features. “She’s my mate.

” Blood bubbles on his lips. “I’d sooner die than hurt her. ”

Jill goes pale, turning to Talia with a mixture of hatred and crushing guilt. But Talia barely notices, lost in the agony flooding their bond.

They’ve barely found each other. It can’t end like this. Not when she’s only just learned what it means to belong somewhere—to someone. Alec convulses, more blood spilling from his mouth as his consciousness flickers like a dying light in her mind.

Jill’s sobbing now, begging him not to leave her. Something crystallizes in Talia’s heart. She might not survive his death anyway—the mate bond won’t allow it. But he could live.

He could survive. If she… “It’s okay. ” She squeezes his hand, forcing calm she doesn’t feel into her voice.

“I understand. ”

Alec shakes his head violently, but she presses on. “Your sister needs you. It should be me.

”

Behind her, Jill’s turning to the dark-eyed man. “Stop this, please. ”

“There’s nothing I can do against Graham’s powers. ” Regret colors his voice.

Talia rises, moving to the kitchen on shaking legs. “I’m not asking you to take Graham’s powers,” Jill pleads, while Talia rifles through drawers with single-minded purpose. “Just save my brother. ”

“Which would equate to canceling Graham’s wish.

” The man’s voice cracks with something like desperation. “He wished for people to die should they betray him. ”

Talia returns to Alec’s side, knife clutched behind her back. His eyes meet hers, full of such love and remorse that it steals her breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and she feels the truth of it echo through their bond. “Me too. ” The words come out steady, despite the tears running down her face. In one fluid motion, she places the knife in his hand and closes his fingers around the handle.

Before he can react. Before she can lose her nerve. Before—

She uses his grip to drive the blade deep into her own heart. His scream of anguish is the last thing she hears before darkness claims her.

Alec is watching her. Only her. Her body lies cold in his arms, and the knife still buried in her heart is like a stab to his own. Around them, the snow falls like ash, coating everything in deceptive peace.

Alec moves along, barely feeling the cold. All he sees is her. He could almost pretend she’s sleeping, if not for the gaping void where their bond should be, where her consciousness should brush against his. When it doesn’t—

The mountainside looms like a giant’s grave marker against the black sky, its jagged peaks lost in storm clouds heavy with snow.

Skeletal pines creak and moan in the wind, their branches weighed down with ice. Against his back, the satellite phone weighs heavy in his bag. He’d taken it in case Graham decided to try and reach him again after ignoring his last call. Alec had delivered his message to one of the Alpha’s men: “Come see your bride’s body yourself, or I’ll make sure the Redmaines hear every detail of what really happened.

”

A desperate gambit. Probably his last. He’d been assured his message would be passed on to Graham. But even if it had been, would the Alpha actually show up?

Because if he doesn’t… Alec’s wolf howls in agony, the sound echoing through the wasteland of his mind. He forces it down with cold rage—the only emotion he has left that isn’t crippling grief. His car sits ahead, nearly buried in snowdrifts, exactly where he’d left it a month ago.

No time for what-ifs. No time to think about how he should have claimed Talia the moment he’d seen her. Should have run. Should have died in her place.

*You couldn’t have fled. The magic would have killed you. *

Jill had tried to comfort him. It doesn’t matter now.

Nothing matters except the weight of Talia in his arms and the revenge he probably won’t live to see. Headlights cut through the storm. Alec’s muscles coil tight as the car approaches, his heart thundering against his ribs. If it’s not Graham behind that wheel—

The engine cuts.

A door opens. A scent hits Alec’s nostrils that makes his wolf bare its fangs in murderous rage. Graham Norfold emerges from the blizzard like a demon from hell—tall and immaculate in his wool coat. Power rolls off him in waves.

But it’s his eyes that make Alec’s breath catch: empty as frozen lakes, devoid of anything human. When they fall on Talia’s lifeless form, his lips curve into a satisfied smile that makes Alec taste blood. “Are you pleased? ” The words scrape out of Alec’s throat like broken glass.

“Is this what you wanted? ”

Annoyance flickers across Graham’s perfect features. “I told you it was—” His voice carries the boredom of a man inconvenienced. “Yet you make me come all this way.

”

When Graham reaches for Talia, Alec pulls her closer with a feral growl he barely recognizes as his own. “Have you grown fond of my mate, boy? ”

“She was never yours. ”

The words come out like a death sentence.

Graham snorts, carrying all the arrogance of a man who’s never lost. “You’ve made a grave mistake, wasting my time. Had you done what I told you to do, I might have let you leave. But you couldn’t leave it alone, could you?

”

God, that knowing smirk. Alec’s fingers itch to tear it from his face. “I won’t let you get away with what you’ve done. ”

“What I’ve done?

” Graham’s eyes widen in mock surprise. “I just lost my mate. The woman I loved. I haven’t done a thing.

*You* killed her, Alec. On your orders. ”

Blood pounds in Alec’s ears. “Because of your power.

Because no one can say no to you without losing their lives in the process. ”

“And who will believe you? ” Graham snarls. “I’m a respected Alpha.

You’re a criminal rogue who abducted and held my fiancé captive for weeks. And we both know you did kill her. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. ”

“So you admit it!

” Alec’s voice cracks like a whip. “You have the power to give orders no one can refuse. ”

Graham shrugs, already bored again. “About that.

” His voice turns silky. “I think it’s high time I put that power to good use. I would have let you walk away with the money you were promised, you know. But there you go, threatening to expose my operations.

I can’t let you live, you understand. I’ve got a war to start. Territory to gain. Enemies to crush.

”

“You really think other packs will join you against the Redmaines over this? ” Alec sneers, though his heart pounds with desperate hope. He just needs Graham to say the word. Just needs him to admit this—

“You mean my darling Talia’s tragic death?

” Graham’s smirk widens. “I know her uncle will. And if he does, other packs won’t stand against it. It’s only retribution, after all.

The Redmaines will pay for their crimes. ”

“Well, *your* crimes. But in the end, does it matter who killed her? ”

Alec lunges forward with a roar.

Graham raises his hand, that same satisfied smile still playing on his lips as he opens his mouth to give the order that will end this. The sword appears as if from nowhere—a silver arc through the falling snow. It doesn’t just slice through Graham’s throat. It twists, tearing.

The sound of his shock mixes with the wet gurgle of blood on snow. Alec watches the light die in those soulless eyes, his own voice coming out like ice. “Your belated engagement present from Talia,” he says. “Sorry she couldn’t give it to you herself.

”

Graham collapses to his knees as Roy Redmaine materializes from the storm, dropping his invisibility cloak. “Happy to serve as Talia Montrose’s sword on this one. ” He pulls Graham back by the shoulder, making sure the blade finds home. Their eyes meet, and Roy nods.

“So your sister wasn’t lying,” he comments, “about this psychopath. Or the magic cloak. ”

Alec barely hears him. His hands shake as he lays Talia in the snow, her dark hair a stark contrast against the white.

She’s paler than moonlight now, still as the death that claimed her. His fingers close around the knife’s handle, and terror seizes his throat. Jill’s words echo in his mind: *I wish, once this knife is removed from her, for Talia to come back to life. *

But what if it doesn’t work?

What if this bottomless void where their bond should be never fills? “Is he dead? ” Alec asks, his voice distant. “Give it a minute.

” Roy’s voice seems to come from far away. Alec’s grip tightens on the blade. The magician had promised. But what if something goes wrong?

What if this is all for nothing? “What if—”

“You’re good to go. ” Roy says. Alec pulls the knife free.

For one eternal, horrifying second, nothing happens. His wolf readies itself to follow her into death. Then Talia’s eyes snap open. Relief and joy surge through him, a tidal wave crashing over the fear and grief that had consumed him.

He pulls her close, holding her tightly. “You’re safe,” he murmurs, brushing a hand over her cheek. “You’re safe, Talia. I’m here.

”

The back room of the magic shop feels like a tomb—dark and airless, with shadows pooling in the corners like old blood. A single painting hangs crooked on the wall, its pastoral scene of flowers at dusk making Jill want to tear it down. How dares anything look so peaceful right now? Adrien sags on the room’s lone couch like a dying man, which he might well be.

His skin has taken on the waxy sheen of old candles, dark veins visible beneath like rivers of ink. Each breath sounds like it costs him—raspy and wet. Jill might feel sorry for him, if he hadn’t started all of this. If his magic hadn’t nearly destroyed everything she loved.

The weight is killing her—if her wish fails, if Talia doesn’t wake up, if she’s lost what matters most to her for nothing. Her fingers drum against her thigh, her wolf quick and restless. The shop’s bell chimes, and hope surges before Adrien groans. “New client.

They’ll have to leave eventually. ”

Iris shrugs from her spot on the floor by his knee. Adrien gives her a look that could wither flowers. “Go get it.

”

Iris sighs, glancing between them, clearly reluctant to leave. “Don’t really feel like it,” she says. “Iris. ”

“Fine.

” She sighs again, giving Jill a pointed glance. “I’ll be right back. ”

As soon as she’s gone, Adrien’s condition seems to worsen. The veins in his neck have turned black, spreading like poison beneath his skin.

Sweat beads on his forehead despite the room’s chill. “You don’t look so good,” Jill observes, unable to keep the edge from her voice. A weak snort. “Your sympathy is touching.

”

“I feel no sympathy for you. ”

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes glassy with fever. “I got that. ”

His breathing grows more labored, his skin so translucent now she can count every darkened vein.

“Are you going to die before granting my wish? ” The words come out sharp. “It’s done. ” Adrien groans, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Done. Your brother’s mate is awake. ”

Relief floods through Jill, followed immediately by a wave of grief so strong it nearly brings her to her knees. “So I won’t be able to bear children.

”

“No. ” His body sways to the side. “What mattered most to you was the prospect of having a family one day. ”

He collapses onto his side, the couch breaking his fall.

Jill briefly wonders if he’s dead, and finds herself wishing he was. If she hadn’t found Adrien in time… and what about next time? He’s still dangerous.

Still able to grant wishes to monsters like Graham. To create more nightmares for other families to endure. Her fingers find the knife in her boot—the one Alec always insisted she carry. Adrien lies there defenseless, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

She approaches cautiously. Kicks his leg. No response. This might be her only chance.

She found him by pure luck. Who knows if she’ll ever track him down again? The knife feels heavy in her hand as she studies him. He looks almost beautiful in his suffering, like some tragic fallen figure.

But beautiful things can still be deadly. She could be doing the world a favor, really—protecting others from his power, from the wishes that destroy lives as often as they save them. Footsteps echo from the shop. Iris returning.

But she’s human, not a threat. Jill raises the knife, aiming for his exposed heart. Pain explodes in her shoulder. The knife clatters to the floor as she stumbles forward.

Behind her, Iris stands in the doorway, rifle trained steady. “Yes, I know. ” Her voice carries none of its usual warmth. “This doesn’t actually kill you unless I aim straight for the head.

” The rifle shifts upward. “And unless there’re silver bullets. Which they are. Must hurt like a—”

The pain is excruciating, burning through Jill’s shoulder like liquid fire.

Still, she manages to spit out: “He’s a menace. The things he can do. All the lives he could ruin—”

“You know what? ” Iris cuts her off, voice dripping venom.

“The only reason he can’t defend himself right now is because he broke the rules telling you about Graham. He isn’t supposed to tell anyone about someone else’s wish. When he breaks the rules, he gets sick. He’ll be bedridden for weeks, if not months.

”

Jill meets Iris’s gaze and flinches. It’s the same look she’d have given Graham if she’d had the chance. Like Jill’s the monster here. But it makes no sense.

“You’ll regret it,” Jill warns, because she knows she’s right. She has to be right. “When he goes on ruining lives, you’ll see. You should have let me—”

“No.

”

Iris fires. The bullet sings past Jill’s ear, stunning her silent. “I won’t. ” Their eyes meet once more.

Jill thinks she means that. “Now get out of this shop,” Iris warns, “or the next one goes in. ”

Jill backs away, shoulder screaming, watching how Iris positions herself between her and Adrien’s unconscious form. “Ah, what happened?

” she hears the latter slur painfully as she backs away. “Kid tried to kill you,” Iris tells him. “Oh. ” Jill hears Adrien sigh.

“So just another Tuesday, then. ”

She never sees him or Iris again. Some wishes, she realizes as she flees into the night, come with prices too steep for anyone to pay. The full moon hangs like a blessing over the Montrose pack grounds, bathing the garden in silver light.

Paper lanterns sway in the spring breeze, strung between ancient oaks that have witnessed countless mating ceremonies. But Talia thinks, as she adjusts her white dress, none quite like this one. Through the window, she can see the gathered packs below—Montrose, Norfold, and Redmaine wolves mingling freely for the first time in generations. Peace, achieved through sacrifice and love.

Though the thought holds no bitterness now. Roy Redmaine stands chatting with her uncle, both Alphas laughing like old friends. Former Norfold pack members, freed from Graham’s influence, have integrated seamlessly into both packs, choosing their loyalties freely at last. “If you keep fiddling with that dress, I’ll have to redo the flowers.

”

Jill’s voice carries a warmth that wasn’t there months ago. She’s different now—harder in some ways, softer in others. The price she paid weighs on her still, but tonight, even she seems at peace. “You know, I never thanked you properly,” Talia says softly, turning to face her soon-to-be sister-in-law.

“For bringing me back. ”

“You’ve thanked me plenty of times. ” Jill shrugs, avoiding eye contact as she adjusts a moonflower. “And I did it for Alec.

”

Talia smiles. “I know. ” She catches Jill’s hand, stilling it. “That’s exactly why I’m grateful.

Not just for saving my life, but for being there for him all these years. For having his back when no one else did. ”

Jill’s eyes shine suspiciously bright for a moment before she clears her throat. “Yeah, well.

Someone had to teach him how to use a washing machine. ”

Talia laughs, recognizing the deflection for what it is—love wrapped in snark, the way Jill shows affection best. The music starts, soft and sweet on the night air. Talia takes a deep breath, squeezing Jill’s hand once before stepping out into the moonlight.

The aisle is lined with white flowers and candlelight, but Talia sees none of it. Her eyes find Alec immediately, standing tall and handsome in his dark suit. His eyes lock onto hers with that same intensity that first captured her heart. But now there’s joy where there used to be shadows.

His wolf radiates pride and possession through their bond, making her smile as she walks toward him. Toward their future. Talia thinks of everything that brought them here—all the pain and fear and impossible choices. But looking at Alec now, feeling the love that flows between them, strong enough to defeat death itself, she knows every step was worth it.

His hand reaches for hers as she approaches—warm and sure—and Talia feels it in her soul. They’re finally, truly home.