But if anyone could break in, it was the witch who always left an open door for herself. That’s why Calder had ultimately agreed it had to be me.
Silas’s hackles rose. A heartbeat later, I heard it too—the soft pad of paws on the manicured lawn. From the shadows ahead, a creature emerged that made my breath catch. Until familiar eyes met mine.
Wickett’s cinderhowl materialized from the shadows as if he’d been carved from the darkness.
Massive didn’t cover it. His shoulders came up to my chest, easily the size of a massive stag, muscle rippling beneath fur that matched the pitch of midnight. The long tufts on his ears did nothing to hide the two arched horns. When he moved, the grass compressed silently beneath paws the size of my thighs.
His eyes found mine. Yellow. Unblinking.
Then, his head tilted.
The tension in his shoulders eased by a fraction. His muzzle wrinkled, but the lips didn’t peel back to reveal teeth, instead, his nose lifted, scenting the air. Testing.
He remembered me.
Because this wasn’t our first meeting. I’d spent my fair share of time lurking in the kennels over the years, even though this particular beast had only been there for a handful of days almost three years ago. I’d taken extra care with him then. The Ripper’s monster, the most feared, the one everyone whispered about with dread. My scent was all over that place—bread soaked in broth, extra portions slipped through bars, gentle words spoken when no one else was watching. I’d been feeding the hunters’ hounds for almost a decade behind their backs.
The cinderhowl took another step forward, and this time when the growl came, it wasn’t a threat.
It was a greeting.
His massive head lowered slightly, and before I could stop myself, I reached out. He closed the distance, pressing his muzzle into my palm with enough force to make me stumble back. Warm breath ghosted across my skin as he snuffed once, twice, confirming what his nose had already told him.
“Easy, puppy,” I said quietly, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart. “Who’s a good boy?”
Silas responded by lowering his head in silent respect. He knew how this worked.
“Well, that’s unexpected,” Wickett’s voice came from the darkness behind his beast.
Right on schedule.
“Don’t distract him or he’ll bite my hand off,” I said, lacing a modicum of fear into my voice for show. “But I think he’s sweet.”
“Timber killed three handlers before me.”
“Then they weren’t treating him right.” I met those yellow eyes, saw intelligence beneath the trained violence. “Were they, Timber?”
The cinderhowl made a sound, not quite a growl, more like acknowledgment.
Wickett stepped into the light, and even through the darkness I could see his unamused expression.
He’d changed from his formal uniform into something simpler, a dark shirt and leather vest, with boots made for silence rather than show. His hair was loose for once, falling just past his shoulders. Without the severe styling his father demanded, he looked younger. Less like the Ripper and more like a man standing in the yard in moonlight.
His brows drew together, smoothing out almost immediately as his gaze moved from the cinderhowl to my face. Lingered there. His head tilted slightly, studying me with an intensity that made my skin warm despite the midnight chill. Then his jaw tightened, and something different flickered across his features, gone so fast I almost convinced myself I imagined it.
I tried very hard not to notice, because noticing meant acknowledging that Wickett Veyne was, objectively, devastatingly attractive. Strong jaw. Sharp cheekbones. Dark lashes that made women everywhere envious. Those pale gray eyes that tracked movement like a predator, but that sometimes, like now, held something softer underneath.
Dangerous. That’s what he was. Dangerous in more ways than one.
“You planned this,” he said. Not a question.
I forced myself to look away, back at Timber, who was still leaning into my touch. Safer that way. Less complicated.
My voice came out steadier than I felt. “Can’t have you catching me breaking and entering without giving you the option to stop me first.”
Giving away the plan was a test on its own. Would he condemn me right here and now? As angry as he seemed at first, I couldn’t put it past him.
But I needed to know how far he’d come to our side. There was no way he’d let Vitoria go when we caught her, he wasn’t ready for the ground to shift that much under his feet.
