Fuck, Wolf. Where did he go?
Panic claws at me, but her presence pushes forward, offering a calm I don’t expect. A warmth settles over my skin like I’m going to shift, but the transformation doesn’t come.
Breathe, Rowan, she says, full of confidence I don’t possess.Maybe this is a good thing.
Right, because everything about a vanishing corpse is all sunshine and roses.
Someone knows I killed that guy. And whoever it is didn’t need a shovel to make the evidence disappear.
Chapter 28
ROWAN
Changing and sneaking back into the house is, somehow, the easiest part of the night. I slip in through the front, toss my ruined outfit into the fireplace, and stand guard until the fabric turns into ash. The flames pop and hiss, spitting out the last of the evidence while my heart races and my eyes dart to every shadow, waiting for someone to step out and accuse me.
I killed someone.
I don’t know how, but I did, and now that I’m not motivated by panic and cover-ups, the reality of it begins to smack me in the face.
Who the hell am I?
I thought I knew. I thought the prophecy was just a possibility, not a death sentence. That I could keep making my own choices no matter what anyone else said. But what if one bad moment, followed by another, is all it takes to turn me into exactly what the councilfears? Maybe they were smart to think I needed to be controlled before I ever got to this point.
Now you’re just overreacting,Wolf says at last, her tone clipped.
I climb the stairs, nodding at the housemaid on night duty—Susie, I think—but she doesn’t meet my eyes or say a word.
Did she hide the body from me?
Add paranoia to your list of issues right now,Wolf mutters. We’re going to be fine. You should have told Cade, but what’s done is done.
How can you be so okay with this?
Because I know what we need, and that’s our mate.She says it like it’s a fact carved in stone. He won’t judge us. And if we have to run because of what happened, at least we won’t be alone.
But what will tonight cost me?
For that, she doesn’t have an answer.
When I reach my room, I’m set on a scalding shower—some desperate attempt to wash the memories away, but that plan derails the moment I hear his voice.
“What happened, Rowan?”
Archie stands in the middle of the room, Great Dane-sized, nose twitching as he sweeps the air, his eyes sharp and unsettled.
“Why would you ask that?” I try to sound casual, but this is Archie. He’s been my best friend for more than a decade.
He stalks closer, head lowered, gaze pinned to mine. “Has this place changed you so much that you think you can’t come to me for help anymore?”
The intensity of his stare makes my chest ache, but it’s the pain in his words that nearly brings me to tears.
“I’m sorry, Archie,” I whisper, pleading. “It’s… I just… Can you please let this one go?”
“Are you hurt?” He’s close enough now that his muzzle is almost level with my face.
I shake my head. “Not physically.”
“Did someone say something to you?”
