Seren looks gutted. Guilt written across every inch of her face. And even though I know she meant well, a sharp flash of anger twists through me. The Nightingale program is my responsibility. Yeah, I might be going through it right now and rejected mate syndrome is still eating away at me, but no matter how broken I am, it’s still mine. She should’ve told me. It hurts to know she didn’t think I could handle it. Either mentally or physically. Even if, rationally, I know it was coming from a good place.
“They would be safe in my territory.” Rennick’s deep and velvety voice cuts through the tense silence that’d suddenly filled the air. “Bring them there.”
“No offence, Fallamhain,” Seren shoots back, skepticism written all over her face. “But wasn’t the whole reason you sacrificed your mate bond with Noa because you couldn’t protect your pack’s omegas? Isn’t that why you need an alliance with that Canadian Alpha cunt, McNamara? So then why in Goddess’s name would we send more omegas to your territory when you need his manpower to protect the ones you already have?”
I believe, as the children say,shots fucking fired.
And yet, Rennick doesn’t rise to the bait. Doesn’t snap or bark back. Instead, he just nods once, and says, “You’re right.” He looks at Seren first before his gray eyes drift to where I stand. “But if you come with them, we’d have a better chance at protecting them.” At first, I think he’s just talking to me, which is confusing since, let’s be honest here, I’m the weakest link in the room with my failing body and inability to shift. “The Ashvale Coven. The Craddock Pack. All of us. If we form a stronghold there and watch each other’s backs, we have a shot at not just keeping these new omegas safe, buteveryonesafe.”
No one moves.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he questions. “We have the same enemy.”
This gets the room’s attention.
“What makes you say that, boy?” Eldrith asks, hands still folded demurely in her lap. The subdued expression is so out of place on that woman it throws me off-balance to just look at her.
“My omegas are disappearing. Seemingly out of thin air,” he explains. “Somehow, someone is getting past our highly trained patrols and every single one of our security protocols. Their tracks just vanish. Who else could pull off something like that other than witches?”
Heads turn, eyes lock, and the pieces begin to click.
They begin to whisper, their voices becoming a droning hum.
Then Siggy speaks. “Time to sleep, dear.”
The way she says it, it’s almost trancelike. But it lands like a thunderclap that silences the room.
I know these words. I’ve heard her say them before when she told us about the night she was taken from the inlet in Rennick’s territory.
Her big, dark blue eyes seem impossibly wide when she lifts her chin and nods stiffly.
“The compeller,” I breathe. “Evara.”
“She was there when I was taken,” she confirms what I’m thinking. “Dear. That’s what they called us today, too.”
I twist toward Rennick again, adrenaline making my heart pound.
“You’re right, it’s all connected.”
Chapter 7
Noa
Chaos erupts.
My living room fractures into noise. Questions and theories are hurled into the air all at once. A few people stand, restless and pacing, like motion is the only thing holding them together. Others stay seated, rooted in place by the weight of the revelation.
Somewhere out there, a coven of dark witches is actively kidnapping and trafficking omegas. Wielding abilities many of us have never seen in person or even heard of, they’ve curated a team of perfect mercenaries. Weapons. And I think it hits all at once that what we’ve already seen of them is only the beginning. A fraction of their power. Nothing more than a warning shot.
Then comes Rennick’s full proposal. The idea of relocating to his land and forming a united stronghold between his pack, the Craddock wolves, and the Ashvale Coven. All under one fortified roof.
Some people agree instantly, recognizing the logic in his plan. Others argue back just as fast, voices overlapping again until the room feels like it might split at the seams. They say they can’t just pack up and abandon Ashvale. Their home. Even if it isn’t for forever. And on top of that, they aren’t willing to put their safety in the hands of foreign Alpha. Especially not one who’s already hurt one of their own.
What Rennick has done to me, how he damaged our bond, is brought up and used as weaponized proof that he can’t betrusted. It’s a low blow, but no one, including him, can argue the validity of their concern.
Worse still are the quiet murmurings from a few of Amara’s coven.
They openly question if this fight even has anything to do with them. The stance is cold, but not entirely untrue. Witches haven’t been the target, omegas have. I truly understand the drive to protect their own. They’ve lost members—friends and sisters—and are grieving, but that doesn’t make it easier to hear that some of the people who’ve stood by my sanctuaries side, helping build it into what it is today, are done. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth I can’t swallow down.
