Chapter One
TRISTAN
Tristan loved working the late shift at the diner. He liked every shift—because, hello, free food—but the late one had a vibe none of the others could match. It was quieter, sure, but not in a lonely way. More like people finally had time to breathe, winding down from their long days, open to sitting and talking. They usuallywantedto sit and talk.
And when the place started to empty out and the noise dropped low enough for him to hear the soft hiss of the coffee machine or the way his sneakers squeaked across the floor, it felt like the diner had a rhythm only he could hear. Like it was his.
But thebestpart of the late shift? Leftover cupcakes from Jason’s morning bake. And not just any cupcakes—these wereJason’scupcakes, which meant the frosting-to-sponge ratio was basically heaven in a paper wrapper. Sweet and sticky works of art.
Once his shift was over, Tristan hung around while Sam put the day’s takings in the safe. She could take care of herself, butleaving her alone while she counted out piles of bills didn’t sit right with him. If he knew her routine, others could too. And when that was done, he headed out, happily clutching a paper bag containing his cupcakes.
The night was still and quiet, and he shivered slightly at the chill in the air. Fall was here. It would only get colder and darker from now on. The moon hung large and red in the sky, as if washed with blood, and he shivered again. This was the twenty-first century, and he didn’t believe all those old shifter superstitions, but there was something about the moon that defied all science. Because how could a wolf’s coat turn silver in moonlight the way Jesse’s did unless there was truth in the old tales of moonlight and magic?
The scent of white chocolate and raspberry from the bag he was holding brought him back to himself. The moon was red due to the atmospheric scattering of light and nothing else. With a grin at his fanciful imaginings, he headed toward his car, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.
And stopped dead, his wolf bristling inside him. Something was wrong.
A scent… Oh, God, he recognized it. The wolves who’d attacked the ranch.
He had his keys in one hand and phone in the other, calling Bryce as he strode toward his car, his long legs eating up the distance but not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough.
“Hey, Tris—”
“Cale’s pack, they’re here.”
“Where are you?” Bryce’s voice was suddenly urgent.
“Diner. I—”
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he turned around. Two shifters were right behind him. The one with long dark hair, whose eyes were narrowed on Tristan, radiated threat.The older one was leaner, and the look on his face was almost as cold and hard.
Bryce’s voice echoed faintly from the phone, tinny and distant, but Tristan’s focus had narrowed to the two figures in front of him. They were close—tooclose. His wolf was on full alert, ears pinned, teeth bared.
He shifted his stance, unsure whether to bolt or fight, his breathing loud in his ears. The taller one with the long dark hair smiled, slow and menacing.
“Urban’s whelp,” the guy said. It didn’t sound like a compliment.
Tristan’s heart thundered. Matt Urban was his alpha. Hisfamily.And these strangers knew who he was.
“Listen,” Tristan tried. “I don’t know what—”
“Shut it.” The dark-haired guy snarled it, and Tristan flinched at the viciousness in his voice. “You’re coming with us.”
Hoping like hell that Bryce was already on his way, Tristan stepped back, weighing his options. He couldn’t lead them to Sam. No way. He feinted toward the lot’s entrance, then wheeled, sprinting for his car.
A weight slammed into his back. He hit the asphalt hard, his head ringing, and tasted blood in his mouth as his phone skittered away from him.
“Little shit,” someone growled.
Pain burst along his ribs as a boot drove into his side.
“Nico, we need to go before Urban shows up.”
Another kick, and stars exploded behind Tristan’s eyes. Hands grabbed at him, yanked him upright, pulled him away from his phone. He was being dragged toward a waiting truck, and he fought every step of the way. He couldn’t win, but maybe he could delay them, because Bryce would come. Brycealwayscame.
But he was forced into the truck, and it was peeling out onto Main, and Bryce wasn’t there. There was only Tristan and the scent of strange shifters filling his consciousness as dizziness and panic threatened to swallow him. One of them kept a hand clamped around his arm, heavy and unrelenting.
They had the same smell as the wolves who’d forced their way into the ranch house two months ago, wild and aggressive, searching for the Argent. That’s what they called Jesse, not understanding he was so much more than just the color of his coat. They’d left blood and fear in their wake.
