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“Yes and no,” I’d tell them, resolutely, laying it all out on the table. “The problem is that the captive upstairs, in the guest wing? Yeah, that’s the girl I snuck off with that night. And I didn’t sneak off with her. I followed her because I had no choice. I drifted along after her like a fucking dog on a leash because of my biology. And then I kissed her and nearly fucked her right there on the floor before I realized—”

“She’s your mate,” Brack would say, nodding as though he understood the issue this entire time.

“That’s a big problem, man,” Zade would say, shaking his head sympathetically. Then, of course, he would think about the other person to get hurt by this. “What about Noemi? She’s not going to like this.”

“Yeah,” Denvil would add, grimacing at the thought of me with such a weak mate. Me admitting to that bond would be bad for all of us—weakening the Kault territories as a whole. “Not fucking good, man.”

No. I can’t tell them.

“Nothing,” I finally lie, shaking my head and sitting up a bit taller. “I’ve just been having some bad sleep recently.”

“Have you been to the doctor?” Denvil asks, popping an eyebrow at me.

“Yes.” Technically, that’s not a lie.

Zade looks unsure. “And you have no idea why?”

“I’m hoping it passes soon.” I’m careful not to outright fabricate the truth. I do hope it passes soon, though I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to resolve this thing. I’ve been over all the possible solutions, and I don’t like any of them.

Especially the ones that involve letting Mylah go back into a world where someone might kidnap her and try to sacrifice her to the moon goddesses.

It’s not like I confessed that she’s my fated mate in front of everyone, but Gavyn clearly saw me save her. That might give him an inkling of what she means to me. At the very least, he might think going after her again would be a good way to find out if I care about her, or if it was just the principle.

And I can’t swallow the thought of letting her go. Sending her right back out into danger without any protection. Without me.

“I hope so, too,” Brack says, his eyes steady. I ignore the way it feels like he can look right through me. Like he’s a wise old man, just waiting for me to tell him the truth when I feel ready.

For an odd beat, we just sit quietly, all of them still watching me. Maybe waiting for me to break and tell them the truth.

It might actually work, except at the exact moment I think about breaking down and at least telling them some version of the truth—I could explain that I have a fated mate without telling them it’s Mylah, for example—a ripping pain tears right through the center of my head.

For a heart-stopping moment, I think that she’s started a heat, except there’s no other evidence to that. For example, I don’t feel like I need to tear this place apart and fuck something, or I’ll die.

In the next moment, I get something like a push against my brain. Like someone is yelling in a far-away room, and I can only just hear it.

Fear. Pain. Adrenaline.

Mylah is in trouble.

I know it like I can feel my own hands and feet right now. Like I can see the guys’ faces shifting to confusion as I stand and turn, heading for the door.

“Augustus!” Zade calls, standing and starting after me. “What the—”

“It’s fine. Headache. Sorry—I’ll see you next week—” I barely manage to choke the words out before I’m running down the hallway, bursting out the front doors of the building and into the blistering cold.

It’s the middle of the day, but the sky is encased in thick black clouds, fat flurries falling fast toward the earth. We usually have our meetings around noon, which means we occasionally get the rare spot of sunshine in and out of them.

Not today, it seems.

I’m shifting as I run down the street, feet turning to paws, hitting the ground with a satisfying thump, thump that reverberates up into my head and shakes through my bones. It feels good to be in this form again. You would think, as king, I would have more opportunity to shift, to hunt, to be in the woods with the others.

But there’s more logistical work than need for my physical presence. Someone has to have meetings and make decisions, and it means I’m usually inside, looking out, wishing I was the one catching our meal for the night.

Now, I run, the wind whistling through my fur, the frigid air stinging at my eyes. I follow my intuition, knowing it will lead me straight to Mylah.

It’s in the direction of home, due north of the meeting hall, and in a few minutes I’m out of the town proper and racing through the barren land between. With my wolf’s nose, I can sense the exact moment I’m out of the neutral territory at the center of the packs and into my own. Being back feels like sinking into a warm bath. Like shrugging on a well-worn coat.

Well, as much as it can feel like that while I’m running at top speed, adrenaline pumping through me like bubbles through a fizzing soda, focused solely on getting to Mylah as soon as possible.