My own wolf reacts instantly. She whines in her cage, distressed by her mate’s unraveling. Part of me hates her for it, for the way she still cares for Rennick without fear or hesitation. For how easily she offers him her trust, her loyalty, her heart, like he didn’t already break all three. I want to shake her and ask how she can believe in him after everything he’s put us through. But I already know the answer. It’s because I care too. Even when I still don’t know if Ishouldorcan.
The tension hits a fever pitch when Edie speaks.
“That explains why they were so set on waiting for Noa to come back. She was their main priority.” She says it like it’s common knowledge. Like it’s something everyone here already knew, but from the way every head turns back toward me, a new weight landing squarely on my chest, I can tell it’s a topic that hasn’t been discussed yet.
I’m not given even a second to react before Lena starts talking again.
“I don’t get it.” She frowns. “Why her?” It’s not meant to be cruel, just curious, but the moment it leaves her mouth the entire room rotates toward her with the sharp precision of pack hunting party. “I—I didn’t mean it how it sounded,” she says quickly, hands up like they might shield her. “I just mean…they had three omegas in their grasp already. And others were rounding up more in town. Why wait? Why hold out for a—no offense, Noa—a latent wolf?”
The sound that tears out of Rennick is low enough to rattle through the floorboards, vibrating up into my sock-covered feet.There’s nothing performative about it, no posturing. It’s the kind of dominance that lives in his marrow, slipping free without effort.It’s a guttural, primal, reminder of who—andwhat—he is.
Lena has her neck bared to the pack Alpha before she can take her next breath, and the other wolves in the room drop their eyes to the floor or their laps as a sign of deference to Rennick. Even the witches react to his dominance, turning into concrete statutes in their seats.
Canaan leans in and murmurs something I can’t make out. Whatever it is has Rennick exhaling and the rumble silencing, giving space for oxygen to once again fill the room. While the rest of the group breathes easier, Rennick is still struggling, his body a coiled ball of nerves.
It appears Seren isn’t standing down, though.
My best friend scoots to the edge of her seat so she can get an unobstructed view of the Craddock Pack she-wolf. She doesn’t raise her voice or look angry, but the sharpness in her tone makes it clear she’s not going to entertain any bullshit.
“With Thalassa gone, Noa’s the face of this program now,” she starts. “She’s the leader of what a lot of people consider a ‘revolution’ for our designation. They’re the same people who view omegas as property, the ones who think we should spread our legs and take a knot without complaint. They see her as a threat.” Her chin lifts, daring anyone to argue. “Whether Noa can shift or not means fuck all. The moment Noa took over the Nightingale program, she became their problem. Not to mention, this program has been around for nearly eight years. Countless omegas have come through these walls, have been harbored and protected here.Myselfincluded. And that means there’s an equal number of alphas out there who aren’t exactly thrilled their omega slipped away. Any one of them could’ve held a grudge. Could’ve paid the right people to come collect Noa as some kind of vendetta.” Her voice tightens. “And these witches,whoever they’re working for, made it clear they’re involved in the sex trade. They mentioned auctions. Clubs.” On my other side, Siggy flinches. My arm around her tightens. “Thalassa had allies working to tear those places down. Which means those allies are technically Noa’s now. That alone makes her a threat to their entire operation.” She pauses to glance sideways at me. “I actually need to talk to you about that,” she adds under her breath.
Before I can ask Seren what she’s talking about, Siggy says, “When I was under the compulsion spell, everything was fuzzy, but I remember one of the witches saying Noa wasn’t going to be put in the auction. Someone had already paid for her.”
The bottom of my stomach drops, the reminder crashing over me like ice water. Someone out there purchased me. Like I’m nothing more than fucking cattle, my name had a price tag. I swallow the mixture of fear and anger clogging my throat.
Across from me, Rennick snaps. He’s on his feet before I even register the movement.
“What?” he barks. “Someoneboughtmy m—Noa?” His eyes lock on to mine. There’s no mistaking the fury there, but buried beneath it, I see it. Fear. Sharp and tangible. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
My irritation is instant. Dropping my hold on Siggy, my arms fold tightly over my chest as I lean back into the familiar velvet of the couch.
“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” I snap. “But the next time I wake up after going into shock, I’ll make giving you a play-by-play of the horror show I lived through myfirstpriority, Rennick.”
His eyes widen as he realizes his mistake. He doesn’t argue further. Instead, all his rage collapses inward. His breath still comes fast, the wide expanse of his bare chest rising and falling in quick succession as he begins to pace where he’s movedbehind the couch like he needs the movement to keep from unraveling.
Half a minute later, he turns back toward me. His voice is softer now, regret weighing every word.
“I’m sorry, sweet one.”
I give him a stiff nod. My jaw still feels too tight, but within my chest cavity, flutters erupt at hearing that damn endearment.
“They didn’t say who it was,” I tell him, and the rest of the room, now that he’s relatively calm. “Just that someone had paid them to retrieve me. But like Seren said, the Nightingale program has made enemies. A lot of them. And now I’m the one in charge, so…”
I let the sentence trail off, not needing to elaborate.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to add there’s a chance this might run deeper than the sanctuary. Malvina all but confirmed she knew my mother. At the very least, they’d crossed paths with each other at some point.
I don’t say it.
The one person who might have answers isn’t speaking. Amara hasn’t said a word since I came downstairs. She hasn’t even looked at me, and I’m not sure she’s hearing any of this. Grief clings to her like a second skin.
When that veil finally lifts, when she can breathe again without wanting to die herself, I’ll talk to her. About all of it. About what Malvina said. About the threads. About whatever the fuck is happening to me and my magic.
Stopping his pacing, Rennick plants both hands on the back of the couch he abandoned. His palms curl into the frame, veins bulging down his forearms.
“I shouldn’t have made her death so easy,” he mutters, scrubbing an agitated hand over his face. His short, trimmed beard scratches against his palm. “That witch in the woods deserved more than choking on her own blood.”
My head snaps toward him.
