Jericho inclines his head, quiet as the night itself. He dabs his eyes and leans into Evan, who wraps an arm around his back.
“Hear, hear! Unite the breeds again!” someone says.
Someone else starts clapping, and another joins in. It’s hesitant at first, then strong.
When the sound fades, Bronson wipes a hand over his face and exhales. “We will miss Genny and Justice, and our home will always be a little empty. But let’s honor them tonight by running with them one last time.”
A roar erupts through the crowd, quickly followed by laughter. One by one, people strip off their clothes, bare skin catching under the bright moon. Seeing bodies shift, stretch, and ripple with fur is natural to me. But Jericho and Evan are less accustomed to our ways. Their eyes bug at all the naked bodies, and they look away.
What would Tobias think if he were here?Would it scare him even more? Remind him of the attack in the park? Or make him fear his bloodline? He hasn’t actually seen us shift at the house yet either. Maybe he needs to.
The night fills with the sound of paws hitting earth. We run together—over a hundred of us—through the trees, in a blur of color and motion. Above us, hawks and eagles soar, their cries piercing the night air. There are even four bear shifters in our mix, and some deer. Tonight, we are united, not divided by packs or animals.
The forest sings with us. Howls rise and fall like waves, echoing over the ridge. I can almost hear Justice’s voice among them, his bark, his laughter. The ache in my chest sharpens and softens all at once.
He’s gone. My younger friend is gone. But running like this, with the others, with his spirit moving beside us—I can almost believe he’s still here.
By the time we reach the ridge, the night feels alive again. I leap onto a rock slick with frost and throw my head back, howling into the open sky. The others answer, their voices twining with mine. The sound vibrates through the forest, through the air, through the part of me that refuses to give up.
Beneath my pain, beneath my grief and anger, is a determination to see this through to the end. To avenge my friend’s death. The coven has taken too much from us, but they won’t take this—our freedom. They won’t take anyone else.
And they won’t take Tobias.
Never again.
Something fierce snarls in me at the thought, and I paw the earth. No, neveragainwill Rip lay a hand on Toby. I’ll make sure of it.
By the time the last echoes fade and we arrive back at the Cedar Ridge house, my lungs burn and my skin is cold against the winter air.
My breath steams as I pull on my clothes. “These are always equally exhausting and exhilarating.”
Ivy bumps me, her eyes misty. “And heartbreaking.”
I pull her in for a long hug. Ivy tucks her face against my neck and sobs.
The woods are quiet now except for the occasional crunch of snow and the soft panting of wolves settling down near the treeline.
Jericho stands a few yards away, still as stone with moonlight washing over his face. Evan’s beside him, rubbing his arms for warmth. They’d walked a part of the way with us before returning.
When I step closer, Jericho glances at me, eyes faintly silver in the dim light.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah. I really am.”
Evan hugs Ivy as she sniffles.
Sorrow flickers across Jericho’s face—or maybe regret. “He was brave,” he murmurs. “Braver than I was in the moment.”
It makes Ivy cry all over again. I pat her back.
Evan looks between us like he’s not sure what to say, but then tucks Jericho against his side. “You found your courage, though. That’s what matters.”
Jericho smiles a little. “Not until you came back into my life. You gave me something to fight for. You all did.”
Evan kisses him, then his attention drifts to me. “Maybe Tobias needs that too. To be reminded he’s not alone.”
I nod slowly. Does Evan know where my heart is tonight? Can he see it written on my face?
