I run until the ache in my muscles matches the ache in my chest. It doesn't help. Nothing will, not until she understands what she is. Not until she stops fighting what we both know is coming.
The moon watches me circle back toward the fortress, patient and cold. Twelve pills in her bag when she arrived. I counted them in the surveillance photos. Fewer now, most likely—she would have taken one tonight out of habit.
Eleven days, give or take. Then the waiting truly ends.
3
IRIS
Three days in the beast's den, and I've learned three things: the guards change at midnight, the east tower has a blind spot, and Stellan Varen watches me like he's waiting for me to run just so he can chase me down.
The Pack Commons stretches before me, a cavernous hall filled with long wooden tables and the scent of roasting meat. Torches line the walls, casting everything in shades of amber and shadow, and a massive hearth dominates the far end, flames leaping high enough to throw heat across the entire space. Wolves fill every bench, their conversations a low roar that reminds me of distant thunder. They eat with their hands as often as their utensils, tearing into joints of meat with an enthusiasm that borders on primal.
I stand at the entrance and force myself to breathe.
Helena prepared me for many things. She taught me to fight, to strategize, to read a room and identify threats before they materialized. She never taught me how to walk into a den of predators and pretend I belonged there. That particular skill, I'm learning on my own.
The conversations don't stop when I enter, but they change. Voices drop. Eyes track my progress across the hall. A fewwolves turn their backs deliberately, a dismissal so pointed it might as well be a shout. Others stare with open curiosity, their gazes traveling over my body with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. None of them approach. None of them speak to me.
I am an outsider. A human. A thing that doesn't belong in their world, no matter what ancient blood pacts demand.
A space opens at one of the smaller tables near the edge of the room, and I claim it before anyone can object. The bench is hard beneath me, the wood worn smooth by generations of use. A serving woman appears almost immediately, setting a plate of food before me without meeting my eyes. Roasted venison, root vegetables swimming in gravy, a thick slice of dark bread. The smell makes my stomach clench with a hunger that feels too sharp, too urgent.
I've been ravenous since I arrived. Another symptom I can't explain.
The food is good. Better than good. The venison practically melts on my tongue, rich and gamey and perfectly seasoned. I eat more than I should, more than I usually would, and when I finally push the plate away, my body hums with a satisfaction that borders on drowsy.
That's when the woman sits down across from me.
She's the kind of beautiful that knows exactly what it's worth, all sharp cheekbones and silver-blonde hair that falls past her shoulders in a shimmering curtain. Her eyes are the pale blue of glacier ice, and they study me with an expression that hovers between curiosity and contempt. She wears a simple gray dress that somehow manages to look elegant, and her hands, folded neatly on the table before her, are soft and uncallused.
Not a warrior, then. Something else.
"You're the human," she says. Not a question.
"And you're observant." I keep my voice flat, refusing to be baited. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Her lips curve without warmth. "I'm Signe. The pack healer. I thought I should introduce myself, given that you'll likely need my services eventually. Humans are so fragile."
The insult lands exactly where she intended. I let it roll off me and reach for my cup of water instead. "I'll try not to inconvenience you."
"See that you don't." She tilts her head, studying me with an intensity that makes the hair rise on the back of my neck. Her nostrils flare slightly, once, twice, and the contempt in her expression fades. Wariness takes its place. Or recognition. "You smell different than other humans."
The words drop into the silence between us. "Excuse me?"
"Be careful who notices." Signe rises from the bench in a single fluid motion, her gaze never leaving mine. "The alpha may have claimed you, but that doesn't mean you're safe. Not everyone in this pack agrees with his decision. And some of them have very keen noses."
She walks away before I can respond, disappearing into the crowd of wolves like a ghost dissolving into shadow. Her warning lodges in my mind like a splinter I can't reach.
You smell different than other humans.
What the hell does that mean?
Eight pills left.
I count them again, spreading them across the bathroom counter like a countdown I can't stop. Eight small white tablets, each one identical to the last, each one supposedly essential to my health. Helena began giving them to me when I turned sixteen and told me to take one every morning without fail.
She lied about so many things. Why not this too?
