The clearing feels charged now, the air thinner somehow, as if we are all standing so close to a discovery that’s larger than maps and numbers.
And no one is pretending anymore that the pattern is coincidence.
“I’ve determined a few possible locations for the next attack based on the pattern. One of the locations is the cabin I’m renting,” I explain.
Alden’s posture stiffens, and he takes a half step toward me, and then stops. Like he’s holding himself back.
There are a few scoffs and murmurs of disbelief, but everything is silence when the ground quakes and a massive explosion splits the air. The sound coming from the direction of my cabin.
Lydia grabs Brynn and covers her with her body, protecting her from a potential attack. Other shifters in the clearing take up protective and defensive positions while they try to determine the threat level.
Alden’s hand clamps around my arm and drags me backward.
His body shifts in front of mine, shoulders squared toward the treeline like he expects the explosion to be followed by teeth. Dust drifts through the air in a gritty haze, and pine needles shake loose overhead, fluttering down in slow spirals. My heart hammers fast, more from the shockwave than fear, but the fear comes next as I register how close that blast sounded.
“Stay down,” Alden orders.
“I can stand,” I snap, trying to twist my arm out of his grip.
His attention stays fixed on the woods, like I’m not there, jaw set so tight the muscle jumps. Ciaran is a few feet away, already barking orders at the outer ring, his hands raised to direct them like a traffic controller managing a crash site.
“Hold the line,” Ciaran says sharply. “No shifting, and no panicked runs.”
Marek’s voice cuts in low. “Was that within our boundary?”
Lydia answers without certainty. “It sounded close.”
Brynn is already rising, staff in hand, eyes scanning the tree line. Around her, several council members remain crouched, instinctive self-protection overriding pride. The clearing feels like a shaken hive, energy surging and confused.
Alden tightens his grip when I move again.
“I said stay,” he growls.
The sound vibrates through me, and my body reacts in a way I hate. It is not submission. It is something closer to awareness, a pulse of heat in my stomach that has no business existing right now.
“Stop grabbing me,” I say through clenched teeth.
His hand shifts, grip firm but not crushing. “You are not running toward an explosion.”
My irritation flares hotter than the fear. His concern is real, and the timing is terrible, and still my skin sparks where his fingers hold me. Some part of me wants to lean into his protection, to let him block the world like he is built for it.
Another part of me wants to shove him.
“Let go,” I say.
He finally glances down at me, eyes dark, expression torn between command and something sharper. The look makes my breath hitch, and I hate that too, because it feels like gratitude and attraction tangled together.
“You heard the blast,” he says.
“I heard it,” I reply. “And it came from the direction of my cabin.”
His eyes narrow. “Which is exactly why you are not going.”
“That is exactly why I am going,” I counter.
Alden’s grip tightens again, and I feel the line of his restraint like a taut cable. His body is braced to protect me, but it is also braced to control me, and the difference matters.
“I am not helpless,” I say.
