Ben watches her from his position near the northern perimeter. His posture is rigid, controlled, but his eyes track her every movement. When Harper kneels beside Devon—the youngest of Marcus’s trainees—Ben takes an unconscious half-step in their direction before catching himself.
Harper’s face shows nothing but calm competence, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands as she adjusts Devon’s jacket. Fatigue, maybe. Or something deeper; the weight of caring for others when you’re barely holding yourself together.
Nova moves like a shadow behind me. Close enough to catch me if I fall. Far enough to let me stand on my own. She understands what this is.
I complete the circuit, counting heads, noting injuries, and measuring the space between wolves who should be celebrating. Instead, they’re scattered, broken into smaller units. The bonds are still there, but they’ve been strained.
I see Marcus’s absence like a hole punched through the fabric of the pack. Wyatt sits alone by the communal fire pit, staring into cold ashes. He and Marcus came up together at Storm Ridge—before the faction split, before everything went wrong, they were brothers.
We won. But we didn’t walk out whole. And I need to know what that means.
Awareness snaps back like a rubber band.
My cabin. Not the infirmary—I must have made it back here after my circuit of the compound. Pre-dawn now. Hours since I forced myself out of that medical bed.
I haven’t slept. Haven’t needed to. But my mind keeps drifting into something that isn’t quite consciousness—a heightened state where every sensation overwhelms.
My room is dark, but I see every detail like someone cranked up the contrast—the grain in the wooden beams, dust motes suspended in the air, the pattern of the blanket thrown across the chair.
I hear Harper’s whispered conversation with Mateo, clear as if they’re standing next to me instead of across the compound. The creak of Ben’s boots as he paces the perimeter. The steady drip of a faucet three cabins over.
My skin feels electric. Like someone peeled back a layer and exposed raw nerve endings to the world. I flex my hand, watching the tendons slide beneath my skin. The movement feels foreign. Precise. Enhanced.
Magic pulses in the walls. I can taste it—metallic and sharp, like blood on my tongue. The angelic blood in my veins isn’t just active; it’s dominant. Taking over. Rewiring. My wolf is still here, but he feels more ... partnered up with the celestial side. Not fighting it, but welcoming it.
I sit up. No pain. No weakness. Just a humming awareness of every cell, every muscle, every breath.
The door opens without a sound. Nova. I knew she was coming before her footsteps reached my porch. Her scent hits me—wild honey, citrus, and something else. Something altered.
She doesn’t hesitate in the doorway. Doesn’t ask how I’m feeling. She crosses to the window and pulls back the curtain. Dawn light spills into the room. I flinch—not from weakness, but from the intensity. Colors splinter, too vivid.
“You haven’t slept,” she says. Not a question.
“Can’t.” My voice sounds strange in my ears. Lower. Steadier. “Don’t need to.”
“Your eyes are different,” she says.
So are hers. Brighter. The violet deeper, gold flecks more pronounced. Like whatever broke in the Fade broke something loose in both of us.
I stand. “You didn’t come back the same,” she says, and there’s no fear in her voice. Just fascination. Maybe recognition.
“Neither did you.”
“Can you feel it?” she asks. “The magic in the walls? In the ground?”
I nod once. “It’s everywhere.”
“Inside you, too.” She steps closer. Close enough that I can feel her heat. “Inside us both.”
The room feels too small. The air between us charged with something that isn’t just desire.
“I remember it,” I say, voice rough. “When I was down.”
Nova doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. “What do you remember?”
“Everything stopped. No pack. No pain. No sound.” My hand rises to my chest, presses against the spot where Faelan’s magic tore through me. There’s no wound anymore. No scar. Just smooth skin over rebuilt muscle. “Then you reached in.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “It wasn’t gentle.”
