"I want to introduce my Mate," I say firmly. "And the daughter of the greatest Enforcer we ever had. If I claim you—publicly—and the Elders back your lineage... the Pack will stand between you and Matilde. They’ll tear Gregor’s mercenaries apart to keep you safe."
"And if they don't accept me?"
"Then they go through me," I vow. "I’m the Alpha. My word is law. And my Wolf chose you. That ends the argument."
She squeezes my hand. "That sounds reckless."
"It’s high stakes," I agree, standing up. "But we’re out of options. The siege is tightening. We need an army, Miranda. And you have one in your blood."
I take a sip of my coffee. It burns all the way down, hot and bitter. Just the way I like it.
"Drink up," I say. "It’s a peace offering. And fuel. You're gonna need it."
She lifts the mug to her lips. She takes a sip and grimaces. "God, Jax. This isn't coffee. This is battery acid."
"It puts hair on your chest."
"I have enough new biological developments to worry about, thank you."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. It’s small, terrified, but real. It lightens the room.
For a second, it feels like we can do this. Like we can stand back-to-back and take on the world. The monster and the mechanic. The Alpha and the Chimera.
Then the sound cuts through the roof.
Bzzzzzzzt.
It’s faint at first, hidden under the rhythm of the rain, but then it gets louder. A high-pitched, mechanical whine that sets my teeth on edge.
I freeze. Miranda freezes, the mug halfway to her mouth.
"Is that..." she starts.
"Quiet."
I move to the window, killing the kitchen light as I go. I peer through the slats of the shutters.
The rain has let up slightly, leaving a heavy mist clinging to the trees. And there, hovering fifty feet above the cabin, is a dark shape.
It’s not a bird. It’s rigid. Angular. A red eye blinks on its underbelly.
Another drone.
But this one isn't searching. It’s holding position. It’s watching.
"Gregor," I growl, the vibration rattling in my chest.
"He found us?" Miranda whispers, coming up behind me.
"He never lost us," I say, watching the red light pulse. "He was just waiting for us to get comfortable. And they’re probably getting antsy. Maybe Matilde can’t wait anymore."
The drone dips lower, brazen now. It’s not just observing. It’s marking the target.
"The siege is over," I say, turning to her. I grip her shoulders. "They aren't waiting anymore. They’re coming."
19
MIRANDA
