Leading them is a cream-colored she-wolf. The fur around her left shoulder is matted and drenched in fresh blood. Her gait is uneven, each step clearly causing her immense pain, but she doesn’t let it slow her down. Behind her are three wolves I know well.
Canaan, Rhosyn, and Sigrid.
Knowing his pack members are alive, my wolf releases a breath within me.
The she-wolf barely slows and shifts mid-run. She stumbles as her paws give way to bare feet.
Seren is human again before she reaches me, her panicked blue eyes locked on the screaming bundle in my arms.
“Ivey.” her voice cracks, the name catching in her throat, as she takes her daughter from me. Her hands shake and her face grimaces, the injury—a stab wound by the looks of it—straining from the weight of the baby. Still, she holds her child tight.
Both hands now free, I waste no time adjusting Noa. Finally, I bring her down to my chest where she belongs. Her frame is slight in my arms and yet it’s heavy enough to be the center of my gravity. I drop my forehead to hers for a moment and breathe her in, savoring the scent that led me to her, even if it’s still cloyed with bitter fear.
Seren retreats a step, clutching Ivey to her bare chest as she does her best to console her. She looks at Noa for a heartbeat, quickly analyzing her best friend, and then moves back to me.
Her eyes lock with mine and hold.
“Thank you,” she whispers, voice tight as she fights to keep herself together.
My head shakes. “All I did was carry them out. Noa’s the one who kept your daughter safe until I could get there.”
Seren swallows hard, presses another lingering kiss to Ivey’s blonde head before nodding at me once. With that, she turns around and makes her way toward the glassed-in sunroom that sits at the back of the house.
Canaan and Rhosyn shift back just as Noa’s best friend disappears through the open door. Both give me a quick once-over, and I do the same to them. Bruises and scrapes are the only visible injuries I can detect. Both things their advanced healing will take care of in no time, but their eyes are still bright, illumined by the high that comes after a fight.
My attention moves past them to the smaller light gray-and-wheat-colored omega behind them. Siggy. She whines softly, her legs trembling beneath her as she stares at me with wide, frightened eyes. Her wolf hasn’t relinquished control yet and probably won’t until she feels safe again. Goddess knows when the fuck that will be. The poor thing has been through more trauma than anyone should have to endure.
“You’re okay, Siggy,” I tell her. “We won’t let anything else happen. I promise.”
I don’t think she believes me, and right now, I can’t say I blame her.
Rhosyn turns and kneels before Siggy, murmuring something low while I look to Canaan. “What thehellhappened?” I demand.
I’ve been pacingthe length of Noa’s bedroom for what feels like hours, but the clock says it’s only been fifteen minutes since I carried her up. I wanted to bring her here sooner, to her own space, surrounded by the comfort of familiar scents, but the chaos outside slowed me down.
Standing in the yard, I’d listened as ten different people—some from the Ashvale Coven others from the Craddock Pack—all spoke at the same time, each giving me their recounts of the day’s events and sharing what scraps of information they had. With what I was told, I’ve been able to forge what feels like a fairly accurate depiction of what had happened here today.
It was around the time when their voices started to all blur into a useless muddle that my instincts took over. I had turned away without a word and walked inside the manor, and I didn’t stop until I reached Noa’s attic-level bedroom.
Staying behind, Canaan and Rhosyn—always the ones patching up the holes I punch—had jumped in as I turned my back, explaining to the group where I was going andwhy. The why being the unconscious woman in my arms.
Now, every few steps I take I look back at Noa on her bed. Still lost to this world and too pale for my liking.
My fingers itch to strip the filthy clothes from her, to make her more comfortable, but I hold myself back. She’s been through enough without waking to find me undressing her while she’s defenseless. I’m also very cognizant of the fact we’re not there yet. The ambiguity of where our relationship, or lack thereof, stills my hand.
The familiar hoodie she’s wearing should be a small comfort. It’s the one I left on her porch this morning before forcing myselfto leave her. Noa had tried to give it back, and I couldn’t stomach taking it. I liked the thought of her being wrapped in my scent, of her entwining it into the blankets and pillows on her bed. Her unofficial nest. Now, my scent has been washed away from the green fabric, smothered under mud mixed with the acrid bite of dread and blood.
Blood I now know belonged to Lowri Craddock.
My jaw locks, and as I’ve done countless times today, I make another silent promise…I’ll replace it. I’ll give her a new sweatshirt, or ten, or however fucking many Noa wants. At any given moment, I would peel the clothes off my back if she merely asked for them.
I drag a hand through my hair, the weight of this whole damn day pressing down.
This quiet little town, and people within it, are bleeding. There’s too much to fix, too much to plan. None of which are a priority to me until Noa wakes up. Not that we would be able to figure out our next steps without Noa’s input. On the main floor of her house and lingering outside of it, people are waiting for my brave and selfless omega to take their hands in hers and guide them through this.
I don’t know if she realizes it, and I get the sense she’s completely blind to it, but Noa Alderwood is the beating heart of her community.
A familiar wave of guilt twines in my stomach at the memory of me telling her she wasn’t cut out to be my Luna. In reality, she wasmadefor the title. Her grace and generosity are something my pack would be lucky to have even a sliver of.
