The first shifter lunged, and Grayson met him head-on. His movements were a blur of precision and brute strength. The fight was brutal and primal. For every blow Grayson landed, another shifter attacked with their claws and teeth flashing in the moonlight. Cora’s heart ached as she watched him struggle to keep up with the odds stacked heavily against him.
“Stop!” she screamed. “Please, stop!”
But no one heard her. The fight raged on, and her chest burned as one of the shifters caught Grayson off guard and slammed him to the ground. Blood smeared across his skin as he struggled to rise, and the pack closed in for the kill.
“NO!” Cora’s voice tore from her throat, and the vision shattered like glass.
She gasped as the real world snapped back into focus. Her hands dug into the rug, and her breaths came fast and shallow as she struggled to make sense of what she’d just seen.
“Cora!” Elena’s voice cut through her panic, and a steadying hand gripped her shoulder. “What happened? Talk to me.”
Cora blinked her wide eyes as she turned to face her friend. “I saw him. Grayson. He was fighting—there were shifters—and he was—he was losing, Elena. He was going to die.”
“Was it a memory? Something from the past?”
Cora shook her head violently. “No. It felt… It felt like now. Or maybe the future. I don’t know.”
Elena’s brow furrowed as she considered this. “The mate bond,” she murmured.
“What about it?”
“It’s possible the bond is giving you access to him in ways you don’t understand yet. If he’s in danger, it might allow you to sense it—maybe even see it. Or it could be a vision of the future. It’s difficult to say.”
Cora stared at her, the weight of those words pressing down on her chest like a boulder. “You’re saying I saw something real? That it wasn’t just my imagination?”
“I can’t say for certain,” Elena admitted. “But if the bond is strong enough—and from everything you’ve told me, it is—it’s not impossible. The connection between mates can manifest in strange ways, especially when emotions are running high.”
Cora buried her face in her hands, and her fingers tangled in her hair. “This is too much. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want to see his death, Elena. I don’t want to be tied to him like this.”
“I know, but the bond isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s a part of you now. Fighting it won’t help.”
Tears stung Cora’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “So what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for the next horrifying vision?”
“No.” Elena’s voice was firm but kind. “You do what you’ve been doing—learning, growing, regaining control of your magic. The bond is part of that, whether you like it or not.”
Cora pressed her hands to her temples, trying to slow the whirl of thoughts racing through her mind. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Elena insisted. “You’re stronger than you think. And you’re not alone in this.”
Cora’s laugh was bitter. “I might as well be. Grayson doesn’t even want this bond. I’m just…an obligation to him.”
“And yet, he’s still here. He’s still fighting to protect you.”
Cora opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. As much as she hated to admit it, Elena had a point. Grayson had been relentless in his efforts to keep her safe, even when she pushed him away.
Elena’s hand found hers, squeezing gently. “You’ll get through this, Cora. One step at a time.”
Cora nodded weakly, though the knot in her chest remained. The vision replayed in her mind as she sat there, surrounded by the faint glow of the crystals. Grayson’s bloodied face. The desperation in his eyes. The pack closing in.
She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to feel the bond pulling her closer to him. But she did.
And that terrified her more than anything.
***
A few hours and a hundred texts later, all of which assured her Grayson was okay, Cora pushed open the door to the apartment with a deliberate calm she didn’t feel. Her head was still buzzing with the vision, replaying every vivid detail of Grayson’s desperate fight in the woods. She wanted to shake it off, to convince herself it was just a trick of her magic or an overactive imagination. But the weight in her chest told her otherwise.
Grayson’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Hey. You’re back.”
