I was lying in the center of an enormous platform bed, tangled in heavy charcoal sheets. The bed smelled of sharp pine, driving rain, electric ozone, and deep amber — the combined scents of the three heirs woven into a protective cocoon.
The events of the previous night crashed in.
The crisis heat. The Knottr app. The warded safehouse.
Hayes. Tristan. Chris.
I bolted upright, clutching the duvet to my chest. I looked around the minimalist bedroom — dark wood, cold slate floors,zero personal touches. Less like a home, more like a tactical staging post.
I was alone.
I was still wearing the same black turtleneck and jeans I'd fled the dorm in, but they were wrecked and smelled of the fever. I reached slowly for the hem of my sweater and pulled it up, bracing for the ugly, pulsing reality of the broken bond scar.
My breath caught.
The inflamed red tissue was gone.
In its place, resting over the steady beat of my heart, three smooth silver lines branched outward from a central, healed nexus point. Not glowing in the pale morning light, but the metallic sheen caught the dawn filtering through the window. They looked less like a trauma scar and more like a deliberate, archaic tattoo.
An unmanifested Pack-Heart.
I traced the center line with a shaking finger.
The skin there wasn't just healed — it was stronger than the surrounding tissue. The damage Trent had inflicted was gone, replaced by a mythic tether now connecting my soul to three of the most powerful alphas on the continent.
"Oh god," I whispered.
My phone. Where was my phone?
I scrambled across the mattress, tossing pillows aside, and found it on the oak nightstand — fully charged, plugged into a wireless dock.
Forty-seven missed texts from Chloe.
Chloe [11:45 PM]: Are you there? Is the match safe? Text me the second you're suppressed.
Chloe [12:15 AM]: Wren. Please. Just a thumbs up emoji. Anything.
Chloe [12:30 AM]: Wren. It's been over an hour. If you don't text me in ten minutes I am coming down to that alley andfighting a giant werewolf with a wooden baseball bat I found in the hall.
Chloe [1:15 AM]: I know you said no campus security but I am literally shaking in the kitchen. Please tell me you are alive.
Chloe [2:45 AM]: Wren. Please.
Chloe [3:00 AM]: Wren, I am sick to my stomach. Please text me.
A wave of guilt hit my chest. Chloe was the only person in my life who had ever offered me genuine, uncalculated friendship, and I had abandoned her to hyperventilate in a sealed dorm room while I accidentally bound myself to three Northern heirs.
I typed fast.
Wren: Chloe, I am so sorry. I'm okay. The fever broke. I'm safe. I couldn't text. I'll explain everything when I see you, I promise.
The response dots appeared almost instantly.
Chloe: OH MY GOD.
Chloe: I was holding my shoe and googling how to break a shifter magical ward with household cleaning supplies.
Chloe: Are you at the safehouse still? Do you need an Uber?
