To collect and take every Fallamhain pack omega they can get their hands on.
Amara’s hijacked and altered ward only makes that task easier.
Rennick and most of the pack’s fighters were on patrol when it went up. Now they’re stranded on the wrong side of it, cut off where they can’t reach us, while the omegas inside are boxed into a fixed radius. Where running and hiding has just become a stalling tactic.
They’ve turned the heart of the territory, where most of the pack lives, into a cage and left our strongest wolves outside of it.
Nothing more than shooting fish in a fucking barrel.
They didn’t care about the cost of entry. They sent in a first wave knowing Ashvale’s protections would tear bodies apart—they already tested this theory with Darran and the two others. Yet, they sacrificed their own to clear a path. Because followers are expendable to people like Cathal and Tanith and there’s no limit of acceptable losses if it means control of the airstrip and this territory again. If it means keeping trafficked omegas moving under the world’s nose. If it means rounding up every Fallamhain Pack omega and selling them for a profit.
And the added bonus of it all? Getting to remove those of us fighting back.
Malvina’s cold comment aboutpest controlsurfaces again.
A branch snaps too close behind us. Siggy veers hard to the right, dragging me around a thick pine and sending us away from the house instead of toward it. Not because she doesn’t want to reach it, but because she knows we’ll get boxed in if we continue straight.
I’d love nothing more than to be in the safety of Rennick’s house, but the goal right now is just to evade long enough for help to come.
I squeeze Siggy’s hand and force words past my burning lungs and dry throat. “Shift. You’ll be faster.”
She risks a glance at me, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, breath smoking out in quick white bursts.
In some ways I’m lucky this is happening now. If this had happened while I was still rotting from the inside by sickness, I wouldn’t have been able to run ten feet before collapsing.
Siggy’s grip tightens instead of loosening like I’d asked. “Shut up. No,” she pants. “I’m not leaving you.”
I’m proud of her in a way that hurts, because she’s already done this.
She’s been hunted before by people who didn’t see her as anything but something to be taken and used. She ran until her feet were torn up and her bones were broken. She kept going and only stopped when she finally reached safety with me.
And I know all of it has to be crawling up now—old fear feeding new—but she isn’t breaking. She’s still here with me. Present and fighting.
Siggy pulls us around another thick group of trees, our boots skidding in the powdery snow as we turn. I stumble and barely manage to catch myself before we both slide to a sharp, halting stop. Two hooded figures emerge from the darkness between the tree trunks across from us. Siggy doesn’t hesitate. She’s already pulling me into another turn, pivoting to run, when a voice rings out through the glowing green woods.
Singsongy. Deceitfully smooth. Almost playful.
I know that voice.
“Oh, and where do you think you’re going?” it calls. “Heel, puppy.”
The words are light, amused even, but the power woven through them cracks like a whip. Siggy freezes mid-step, every muscle locking at once. She stops so abruptly that my momentum carries me forward, my grip on her hand tugging uselessly as I try to take her with me.
She doesn’t budge.
“Stay,” the voice continues. “That’s a good puppy.”
Siggy’s body obeys because it doesn’t have any other choice.
I know exactly what this is even before the figures step closer and pull back their dark hoods in practiced unison.
The remaining triplets.
Zephira, the illusionist, stands on the left, long dark braid hanging over her shoulder, her face blank in a way that goes beyond composure or calm. Her eyes are the same polished and empty glass I remember them to be, and for a fleeting second, I find myself wondering if she’s alive in any way that actually matters.
Evara, the silver-tongued compeller, stands beside her, with her messy pixie cut framing her face and bouncing on her toes, looking far too pleased to have cornered us.
Behind me, I feel their arrival before I hear it. The two wolves who were chasing us arrive and block the path we just came from, their bodies closing off our exit.
