A mother wolf, whether or not she could shift, never left her child unguarded.
The van slowed suddenly. Braked.
A murmur ran through the witches seated ahead of her.
The driver cursed under her breath. “Well. That’ll be the welcoming party.”
Dani’s pulse throbbed at her temples. She lifted her head.
Through the windshield, shapes moved in the snow.
Dozens of them.
A line of wolves stretched across the road, silver pelts bristling, steam rising from their jaws. A handful were in their human form, bare-chested despite the cold, tattoos and scars gleaming.
Nordan wolves.
Her pack.
Her executioners, if they chose to be.
Dani’s fingers trembled.
Aurelia squeezed her hand. “Mom?”
“Stay close to me,” Dani whispered.
The doors opened, cold air slapping into her. Lavinia descended first, her robes brushing the snow, her aura calm and commanding. The rest of the coven followed.
Dani stepped out with Aurelia at her side.
The cold cut through her coat instantly.
A man detached himself from the Nordan line and walked forward. Broad shoulders. Familiar jaw.
Not Arthur.
Chase.
Arthur’s younger brother.
He’d grown. Taller, more filled out, features sharpened into adulthood. But she knew him instantly, the way he squinted when assessing someone, the way tension sat high across his shoulders.
Chase’s gaze swept the coven.
Paused on her.
He didn’t react.
Didn’t recognize her.
For reasons she couldn’t begin to name, that hurt.
“Witches,” Chase called, voice ringing across the frozen clearing, “you are not welcome in Skymist. Turn back.”
Lavinia moved forward, chin high. “We were invited by Dominic Volkhov, Alpha of the Volkhov pack. This land belongs to all valley packs. You have no authority to deny us passage.”
Chase’s expression didn’t change. “I speak on behalf of the Nordan Alpha. Witches will not cross into our territory.”
