Chapter 1
Nadia
I’m going to kill him.
The thought should terrify me. I’m an Aurora Collective operative, trained to protect, not execute. But as I move through the forest with snow crunching beneath my boots and moonlight filtering through the canopy, all I feel is the cold clarity of purpose.
Thirty minutes ago, I walked out of a council meeting with Viktor Parlance’s voice still ringing in my ears. Thirty minutes since our leader announced that Jericho Allon—the man who ordered my mate’s death—was requesting sanctuary at Aurora.
The wind off the mountain bites hard enough to make my eyes water. I welcome the sting. It keeps me sharp. Focused. Angry.
My wolf prowls just beneath my skin, claws pricking at my fingertips, vision sharpening to silver. She’s been patient for five years. We both have. Silently hunting through the Syndicate’snetwork of shell companies and regional bases, following trails that always went cold.
And now they want toprotecthim.
I navigate a steep incline, using exposed roots for handholds. My breath fogs in the cold air. My muscles burn with exertion, but I push harder, needing the pain.
“Jericho Allon. Former Syndicate tactical commander. He claims to have intelligence on upcoming operations. He wants to defect.”
Viktor’s words loop through my mind, measured and infuriatingly calm. He’d stood at the head of the council table, tall, stoic, unyielding… and dismissing all my arguments.
I’d known the moment he said the name. Known from the way his gaze found mine across that crowded room. Known from the careful neutrality in his voice.
“No,”I’d said. The word had come out flat. Final.“Absolutely not.”
“Nadia—”
“Jericho Allon ordered the hit that killed my mate. Five years ago. August fifteenth. He sent the team. Gave the order. Stood there and watched my mate die and called it acceptable losses.”
The memory of that briefing room—the suffocating silence, the way people had stepped back when my eyes flashed with fire—burns through me now. I’d held myself together. Kept my voice level. Controlled. The way you’re supposed to when you’re Aurora, when you’re professional, when you’re anything other than a grieving wolf who wants to tear the world apart.
“He has critical intelligence,”Viktor had said carefully.“Information that could save lives. Prevent attacks.”
“I don’t care.”
“Nadia—”
“I said I don’t care.”
Then I’d walked out. No dramatic exit. No slamming doors. Just turned and left while the room erupted behind me, half arguing for sanctuary, half against. Their voices had faded as I walked down that corridor, my heartbeat louder than the sound of my boots.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. It buzzes again.
Fine.
I yank it out. Mara’s name flashes on the screen. I answer without speaking.
“You left a scorch mark on the floor, Frost.” Her voice is dry, laced with concern.
“Is that what you called to tell me?” I already know it isn’t.
She pulls in a breath. “Council voted yes. Sanctuary’s granted. He’s on the road already. Seventy-two-hour ETA.”
The confirmation sucks the air from me. I’d expected it, but hearing it makes it real.
“Fuck.”
“Would it be inappropriate to suggest a month-long spa day?” She’s tentatively teasing in typical Mara style. How did a social media specialist even get caught up in the shitshow that surrounds our world?
