The paper crumples in my fist, my wolf rising hard enough that I have to take a slow breath just to keep my voice level when I speak. “Mary. Ward the perimeter. Tonight.”
She doesn’t argue, which tells me she knows just how bad this is. She turns and disappears down the hall.
Tessa steps closer, her hand brushing my arm. “He’s not bluffing.”
“No,” I say, meeting her gaze. “He’s not.”
The last time Roman moved like this, the bodies didn’t stop falling for months. He doesn’t just fight, he corrodes. Turns allies into enemies, enemies into corpses, and he does it with a smile like it’s all a game he’s playing better than anyone else. And now he’s marked the first piece.
“We can take him,” she says, and I almost smile at the steel in her voice. Almost.
“It’s not just him,” I tell her. “This won’t be a fight with one fox. He’s going to pull the old grudges into the open. Call in debts. Stir every rival we’ve ever had, and plenty who never cared until now. He’ll make it a war on all fronts.”
She looks at me for a minute, then says, “Then you can’t fight it alone.”
I want to tell her I’ve been fighting wars longer than she’s been alive, that I know the weight of what’s coming and I’ll carry it without asking her to bleed for it—but I can’t. Not after what I saw in her tonight. Not after the way she touched the Seal and came back with a vision I’ve tried to pretend was impossible.
“You saw them,” I say quietly. “The Pact.”
She nods. “Together. Whole. And you were at the center.”
The words dig in deeper than I want them to. I’ve spent years avoiding that place, that role. I left it because I thought leading meant dragging everyone I cared about into the grave with me. But if Roman is moving like this, if the others are already circling… then staying fractured is going to get us all killed.
Mary returns, wiping her hands on a rag, the scent of salt and iron on her from the wards she’s laid. “Perimeter’s set, but it won’t stop him if he’s determined.”
“It’s not supposed to,” I say. “It’s supposed to slow him long enough for us to be ready.”
She studies me, reading the thing I haven’t said yet. “You’re thinking about calling them.”
“I’m thinking,” I answer, “that if we don’t put the Pact back together, Roman’s going to pick us off one by one, and when he’s done, there won’t be anything left worth protecting.”
Mary’s mouth tightens. “They won’t all come willingly.”
“They don’t have to. They just have to show up.”
Tessa steps between us, looking at me like she already knows I’ve made up my mind. “You’re going to lead them.”
It’s not a question. And I don’t deny it.
Because the truth is, the second I read Roman’s message, I knew there was only one way this ended.
And it sure as hell wasn’t with me standing still while the war came to my door.
27
TESSA
It’s the first quiet morning we’ve had in days.
The storm of Roman’s message, the tension in Darius’s voice when he talked about calling the Pact, the scent of strangers on our land. It’s all still there, lingering in the corners like cobwebs you can’t quite reach, but for now, none of it’s breathing down our necks. The wards Mary set are holding. The house feels warmer. And the New Moon has draped itself over the sky like a blanket, cutting out the silver glare that usually pours in through the windows at night.
Darius is in the kitchen.
This would normally be a comforting fact, except I can already smell the faint edge of something… burnt. Not disastrously so, but enough to make me pause halfway down the stairs, hand on the banister, listening to the low rumble of him muttering to himself.
When I step into the kitchen, he’s standing at the stove, broad shoulders tense, holding a wooden spoon like it personally offended him. Whatever’s in the pan is sizzling in a way that sounds a little aggressive for breakfast.
“Should I be worried?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
