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title: "Silver and Smoke" wordCount: 5458

Silver and Smoke

The window explodes inward and I'm moving before the glass hits the floor, but there are too many of them—six wolves pouring through every opening at once.

One comes through the kitchen window. Two crash through the front door, wood splintering like kindling. Three more through windows I didn't even know could open.

Declan shifts mid-stride, his clothes tearing as fur ripples across his skin. He takes down the first wolf before it clears the doorframe, teeth finding throat.

I grab the iron poker from the fireplace. Not ideal. Not even close. But it's what I have.

A gray wolf lunges for my face. I swing hard, catch it across the jaw. Bone cracks. The wolf yelps and stumbles back, but another is already coming, this one black with silver eyes that reflect the firelight.

"Sloane, down!"

I drop. Mira's shotgun roars over my head. The black wolf takes the blast in the shoulder and goes spinning into the wall. Silver shot. The wolf screams—actually screams—as smoke rises from the wound.

They brought silver. Of course they brought silver.

Declan is fighting two at once near the kitchen, all teeth and claws and savage efficiency. He's faster than them. Stronger. But there are too many and they keep coming and—

A brown wolf gets past Mira's second shot. It's on me before I can swing the poker, jaws snapping for my throat. I throw my arm up. Teeth sink into my forearm and pain explodes white-hot through my nervous system.

"Stop."

The word comes out of me like a physical force. Like something with weight and edges.

The brown wolf freezes. Just stops, mid-bite, jaws still locked on my arm but not moving. Not breathing. Its eyes are wide and terrified and fixed on mine.

The gray wolf I hit with the poker stops too. Stops mid-lunge for Mira, suspended in the air for one impossible moment before crashing to the floor and staying there, trembling.

Everyone stops. Even Declan and the wolves he's fighting pause, heads turning toward me.

The brown wolf's teeth are still in my arm but the pressure is gone. It's not biting anymore. It's not doing anything. Just frozen, like someone hit pause on a video.

"Let go."

The jaws open. The wolf backs away, moving in jerky, puppet-like motions. Its eyes never leave mine.

What the hell did I just do?

"Well." Garrett's voice drifts through the broken front door, smooth and pleased. "That is interesting."

He's standing on the porch, hands in the pockets of his expensive jacket like he's watching a play. Like this is entertainment. Three more wolves flank him, these ones still in human form but ready to shift. I can see it in the way they hold themselves, coiled and waiting.

"Sloane Carrigan." He says my full name like he's tasting it. "Your father never mentioned you had alpha command."

My arm is bleeding. The brown wolf is still frozen three feet away, shaking so hard its legs are about to give out. I don't know what I did. I don't know how to undo it.

"Let them go," Garrett says. Not to me. To his wolves. "All of you, out."

The wolves retreat. The two I froze stumble toward the door like they're drunk, legs barely working. The others follow, including the one with the silver wound in its shoulder. Declan shifts back to human, blood running down his chest from a dozen shallow cuts.

"We need to leave," Mira says. She's reloading the shotgun, hands steady. "Now."

"In a moment." Garrett takes a step into the house. Just one. Testing. "I wanted to speak with Sloane Carrigan first."

"Yeah, no." I tighten my grip on the poker. "Not interested."

"I have something you want."

"Doubt it."

"Your father's journals." His smile widens. "All of them. Including the pages he tore out before he died. The ones about the omega facilities in the northern territories. The ones with my name in them."

My heart stops. Actually stops for one beat before slamming back into rhythm.

"I thought that might get your attention." Garrett pulls something from his jacket. A leather journal. My father's handwriting on the cover. "He was very thorough. Names, dates, locations. Even photographs, though those are a bit grainy. Security camera footage is never quite as clear as one would hope."

"Give it to me."

"I will. I'll give you all of them." He tucks the journal back into his jacket. "In exchange for you."

"No." Declan moves to stand beside me. He's naked and bleeding and his voice is rough from the shift, but he puts himself between me and Garrett anyway. "That is not happening."

"I was not speaking to you, Declan Thorne." Garrett's eyes stay on me. "You walked away from Cascade Pack. You have no voice here."

"He has a voice with me," I say.

"Does he?" Garrett tilts his head. "Even after you discovered he was my beta? That he stood beside me at Conclave meetings while your father was investigating me? That he knew exactly who you were the moment he found you in that alley?"

The words hit like silver bullets. Each one finding a soft place to lodge.

Declan's hand finds my wrist. "Sloane—"

"Not now." I pull away. Can't deal with this. Can't think about what it means that Garrett knows Declan knew. "We're leaving."

"The journals," Garrett says. "Everything your father died protecting. All the evidence you need to destroy me. I'll give it to you. Just come with me. Willingly. No one else has to die tonight."

"Sloane." Mira's voice is tight. "Kitchen's on fire."

I smell it then. Smoke. The shotgun blast must have hit the gas line. Flames are crawling up the kitchen wall, spreading fast across the old wood.

"Decide quickly," Garrett says. "The house is going to burn. You can leave with me and get what you came for, or you can run into the woods with nothing. But either way, I will find you again. I will always find you. You used alpha command in front of my wolves. They felt it. They will never forget it. And neither will I."

He turns and walks off the porch. His wolves follow, melting into the darkness between the trees.

"We have to go." Mira grabs my good arm. "I have a car. Half a mile north, hidden off the logging road. But we need to move now."

Declan shifts again. It's faster this time, more controlled. He's hurt but he can still run.

We go out the back, through the kitchen where the fire is eating through the ceiling. Smoke fills my lungs. Glass crunches under my boots. The night air hits my face like a slap and then we're running, Mira in the lead, me in the middle, Declan bringing up the rear in wolf form.

The forest swallows us. Pine branches whip my face. Roots try to trip me. Behind us, the safe house groans and something inside collapses with a crash that sends sparks spiraling into the sky.

Howls echo through the trees. They're following. Of course they're following.

"How much further?" I gasp.

"Quarter mile." Mira doesn't sound winded. She's barely breathing hard. "Stay close."

A wolf breaks through the underbrush to our left. Gray fur, yellow eyes. One of Garrett's. It lunges for Mira but Declan intercepts, slamming into it mid-leap. They go down in a tangle of fur and teeth.

"Declan!"

"Keep running!" Mira yanks me forward. "He can handle it!"

I run. Every instinct screams at me to go back, to help him, but Mira's grip is iron and she's faster than me and I can't break free without stopping completely.

Another wolf. This one comes from the right, cutting off our path. Black fur. The same one from the house, the silver wound in its shoulder still smoking.

It's slower now. Hurt. But it's between us and the car.

Mira raises the shotgun.

"Wait." I step forward. The wolf's eyes lock on mine and I feel it again, that strange pulling sensation in my chest. Like something inside me recognizing something inside the wolf. "Go."

The wolf whines. Takes a step back.

"Go. Now."

It turns and runs. Just like that. Like I flipped a switch.

"What the hell are you?" Mira whispers.

"Not my circus." I push past her. "Where's the car?"

We run. My lungs are burning. My arm is still bleeding, leaving a trail any wolf could follow. Behind us, I hear snarling. Yelping. The wet sound of teeth finding flesh.

Declan. That's Declan fighting back there and I left him and—

"There!" Mira points.

I see it. A dark sedan tucked behind a fallen log, barely visible in the shadows. Engine running. Driver's door hanging open.

We break through the tree line. Twenty feet. Ten. Five.

A wolf hits me from behind. I go down hard, face-first into pine needles and dirt. Teeth snap at the back of my neck. I roll, get my arm up. The wolf's jaws close on my forearm—the same arm the brown wolf bit—and this time I scream.

Silver. There's silver on its teeth. I can feel it burning into my bloodstream, spreading like poison.

Mira's shotgun roars. The wolf jerks and falls away, half its head gone.

She hauls me up. "Can you run?"

"Yeah." The word comes out slurred. My arm is going numb. "Where's Declan?"

"I don't—"

A wolf crashes through the underbrush. Brown fur matted with blood. For one horrible second I think it's one of Garrett's, but then I see the eyes. Gold, not yellow.

Declan.

He's limping. Bad. There's a gash across his ribs that looks deep, and when he shifts back to human he nearly falls.

"Silver," he gasps. "They had silver blades. I did not see—"

His legs give out. I catch him, barely. He's heavy and bleeding and his skin is too hot.

"The car," Mira says. "Get him to the car."

I half-drag, half-carry him. Twenty feet feels like twenty miles. His blood is soaking into my shirt, hot and sticky. He's trying to walk but his legs aren't working right and his breathing is wrong, too fast and too shallow.

"Stay with me," I tell him. "Do not you dare die on me. Not after—"

Not after what? Not after I found out he lied? Not after I pushed him away?

Not after I realized I might actually need him?

We reach the car. Mira gets the back door open and we pour Declan into the seat. He's convulsing now, muscles spasming. Silver poisoning. I've seen it before. Watched my mother die from it while my father held her hand and I hid in the closet like a coward.

"Drive," I tell Mira. "Just drive."

She slides into the driver's seat. I'm climbing in after Declan when I see it.

Blood on the steering wheel. Fresh. Still wet.

"Mira?"

She doesn't answer. She's staring straight ahead, hands on the wheel, but she's not moving. Not starting the car. Not doing anything.

"Mira, what—"

That's when I see her eyes in the rearview mirror.

Yellow.

Not gold like Declan's. Not the amber of a normal wolf.

Yellow. Like Garrett's wolves.

"I am sorry," she says. Her voice sounds wrong. Hollow. "He has my sister."

The world tilts. Everything I thought I knew rearranges itself into a new, horrible pattern.

"You called him," I whisper. "You told him where we were."

"He has my sister," she says again. "He said he would kill her if I did not—"

Declan lunges from the back seat. Even poisoned, even dying, he's fast. His hand closes around Mira's throat.

"Where is she?" His voice is barely human. "Where is Sloane supposed to go?"

"The—the Cascade Pack house." Mira's choking, clawing at his hand. "He wants her there. Tomorrow night. Alone. Or he kills everyone. Your pack, Declan Thorne. He knows where they are. He knows—"

Declan's hand tightens. Mira makes a wet, gurgling sound.

"Stop." I grab his wrist. "Let her go."

"She betrayed us."

"I know. Let her go anyway."

He does. Slowly. Mira collapses against the steering wheel, gasping.

"Get out," I tell her.

She stumbles out of the car. I slide into the driver's seat. The keys are in the ignition. The engine is still running.

Declan is in the back seat, shaking so hard the whole car vibrates. Silver is killing him. Slowly. Painfully.

I need to get him somewhere safe. Somewhere I can treat the wound. Somewhere Garrett's wolves won't find us.

I put the car in drive.

That's when I see it.

The passenger seat. There's something on it. A journal. Leather-bound. My father's handwriting on the cover.

And a note, written in Garrett's careful script:

Tomorrow night. Cascade Pack house. Come alone, or I start killing the people you've dragged into this. Starting with Declan Thorne's family.

I'll be waiting, Sloane Carrigan.

My hands are shaking. Declan is dying in the back seat. Mira is standing in the road behind us, crying. And Garrett has my father's journals and knows where Declan's pack is and I used alpha command in front of his wolves which means he knows exactly what I am now.

I press the accelerator. The car lurches forward.

In the rearview mirror, I see Mira collapse to her knees.

And behind her, stepping out of the trees with that same terrible smile, is Garrett Voss.

He raises one hand. Waves.

Like this is all just a game.

Like he's already won.

I drive.

---

The logging road turns into a highway. The highway turns into back roads I don't recognize. I drive until the gas gauge hits empty, until the sky starts to lighten in the east, until Declan stops convulsing and goes terrifyingly still.

I pull off into an abandoned rest stop. The kind with broken vending machines and bathrooms that haven't worked in years.

"Declan." I climb into the back seat. His skin is gray. His breathing is shallow. The wound on his ribs has stopped bleeding but the edges are black. Silver poisoning spreading through his system. "Declan, wake up."

His eyes flutter open. Gold, but dim. Fading.

"Sloane." My name comes out as barely a whisper. "You need to leave me."

"Yeah, no."

"I am dying. The silver—"

"Is not going to kill you." I rip off my jacket, press it against the wound. "I am not letting you die. Do you understand me? I am not—"

"Why?" His hand finds mine. Weak. Trembling. "I lied to you. I was part of his pack. I knew who you were and I did not tell you. Why would you save me?"

Good question.

I don't have a good answer.

"Because you came back," I say finally. "In that alley. You could have left me there and you came back. So I am coming back for you. That is how this works."

"That is not—" He coughs. Blood flecks his lips. "That is not the whole truth."

"It's enough truth for right now."

I need supplies. Bandages. Something to draw out the silver. Wolfsbane, maybe, if I can find it. And I need it fast because Declan is fading and I can feel it, this pulling sensation in my chest like something vital is being torn away.

The mate bond. That's what this is. What I've been feeling since the moment I met him.

I'm not ready for that. Not ready for what it means. But ready or not, it's here, and it's killing me to watch him die.

"Stay here," I tell him. "I am going to find help."

"Sloane." His grip tightens on my hand. Barely. "If I do not make it—"

"You are going to make it."

"If I do not," he continues, "do not go to Garrett. Do not trade yourself for the journals. Promise me."

I can't promise that. We both know I can't promise that.

"Rest," I say instead. "I will be back."

I leave him in the car and walk toward the rest stop building. There's a payphone near the bathrooms. Probably doesn't work. Probably hasn't worked in a decade.

I pick it up anyway.

Dial tone. Miracle of miracles, there's a dial tone.

I dial the only number I have memorized besides my own. The one my father made me memorize when I was ten years old. Emergency contact. Use only if everything goes to hell.

It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?"

The voice is female. Young. Familiar in a way I can't place.

"I need help," I say. "Silver poisoning. Wolf. He's dying."

Silence on the other end. Then: "Who is this?"

"Sloane. Sloane Carrigan."

More silence. Longer this time.

"Where are you?"

I tell her. She tells me to wait. Tells me someone is coming. Tells me not to move.

I hang up and walk back to the car.

Declan is unconscious. His breathing is barely there. The wound is spreading, black veins crawling up his ribs toward his heart.

I climb into the back seat and pull his head into my lap. His skin is cold now. Too cold.

"Do not die," I whisper. "Please. I know I have no right to ask. I know I pushed you away. But do not die. Not yet. Not before I—"

Not before I what?

Not before I figure out what this thing between us is? Not before I decide if I can trust him? Not before I admit that somewhere between the alley and the safe house and this moment right now, I started to need him?

His hand twitches. Finds mine. Holds on.

I hold on back.

The sun rises. Light spills across the parking lot, turning everything gold.

And in the distance, I hear an engine.

Someone's coming.

I just hope it's the right someone.

---

The car that pulls into the rest stop is a black SUV with tinted windows. Expensive. The kind that screams money and power and don't-mess-with-me.

It parks next to my stolen sedan. The driver's door opens.

A woman steps out. Tall. Dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. Wearing scrubs under a leather jacket. She looks at me through the car window, takes in Declan's gray skin and black veins, and her expression doesn't change.

"Sloane Carrigan," she says. Not a question. "I'm Dr. Chen. Your father saved my life once. I owe him a debt."

She opens the back door and leans in, pressing two fingers to Declan's throat. Checking his pulse.

"Silver poisoning," she says. "Advanced. Maybe an hour left, maybe less. I can treat him but not here. You'll have to come with me."

"Where?"

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere Garrett Voss doesn't know about." She looks at me. Really looks at me. "Your father set up safe houses all over the territory. This is one of them. He wanted to make sure you'd have places to run if something happened to him."

My throat closes up. I can't speak.

"Help me get him into my car," Dr. Chen says. "We need to move fast."

We transfer Declan to the SUV. He doesn't wake up. Doesn't make a sound. Just lies there like a corpse while we maneuver him into the back seat.

"You drive," Dr. Chen tells me. "I'll work on him while we move. Head north on Highway 12. I'll tell you where to turn."

I drive. She climbs into the back with Declan and pulls out a medical kit that looks like it belongs in a hospital, not a car. Scalpels. Syringes. Vials of clear liquid.

"This is going to hurt him," she says. "Even unconscious. The silver has to come out and it's not going to come out easy."

"Do it."

She does. I hear Declan scream. Even unconscious, even dying, he screams when she cuts into the wound and starts pulling out fragments of silver blade.

I drive faster.

"Turn here," Dr. Chen says.

I turn onto a dirt road that winds up into the mountains. The trees get thicker. The road gets narrower. We're climbing now, altitude making my ears pop.

"How did my father know you?" I ask.

"I was omega," she says. "Trafficked. Sold to a pack in the northern territories. Your father found me. Got me out. Gave me a new identity and enough money to go to medical school. I've been paying that debt forward ever since."

The omega facilities. The ones my father was investigating. The ones Garrett is involved in.

"Did he tell you what he was working on?"

"Some of it." She's wrapping Declan's ribs now, bandages soaked through with blood and something that smells like herbs. "He knew Garrett Voss was running omega trafficking rings. He had proof. Names, locations, financial records. He was going to expose everything at the next Conclave meeting."

"But he died first."

"Yes." She meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. "He died first. And Garrett took the journals. All of them. Everything your father spent five years collecting."

"Garrett offered me a trade. The journals for me."

"Don't do it." Her voice is sharp. "Whatever you're thinking, don't. Garrett doesn't want you for the journals. He wants you because you're an alpha. A female alpha. Do you know how rare that is? How valuable?"

I don't answer. Don't want to think about what valuable means in Garrett's world.

"There," Dr. Chen says. "That cabin. Pull up to the door."

The cabin is small. Isolated. Surrounded by trees so thick I can barely see the sky. There's a generator humming somewhere and solar panels on the roof.

We carry Declan inside. There's a medical setup in the back room that looks like a miniature emergency room. Dr. Chen directs me to put him on the table.

"I can save him," she says. "But it's going to take time. Hours, maybe. You should rest."

"I am not leaving him."

"I didn't say leave. I said rest." She points to a chair in the corner. "Sit. You're bleeding too."

I look down. My arm. The bite from the brown wolf. I'd forgotten about it.

Dr. Chen cleans it while she works on Declan. The wound isn't deep but it's going to scar. Another mark to add to the collection.

"Your father would be proud of you," she says quietly. "What you're doing. Going after Garrett. It's what he would have wanted."

"I am not doing it for him."

"No?" She glances at Declan. "Then who are you doing it for?"

I don't answer. Don't know how to answer.

The truth is, I don't know anymore. Started out wanting revenge. Wanting to make Garrett pay for what he did to my family. But somewhere along the way it became about more than that. About the omegas he's trafficking. About the packs he's destroying. About stopping him before he hurts anyone else.

About protecting the people I've started to care about.

Like Declan.

Who lied to me. Who was part of Garrett's pack. Who knew who I was and didn't tell me.

Who came back for me anyway.

"He's stable," Dr. Chen says. "The silver is out. He'll need rest and time to heal, but he'll live."

Relief hits me so hard I almost fall out of the chair.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." She strips off her gloves. "Garrett knows you're out here. He knows you have alpha command. He's not going to stop until he has you. And now that you've used your power in front of his wolves, every pack in the territory is going to know what you are. You're not just a target anymore, Sloane. You're a prize."

"Then I will make sure I am a prize he cannot claim."

She smiles. It's not a happy smile. "Your father used to say the same thing. Right before he did something incredibly stupid and dangerous."

"Sounds about right."

Declan stirs on the table. His eyes flutter open. Gold again. Bright and clear.

"Sloane?"

I'm at his side before I realize I'm moving. "I am here."

"Where—" He tries to sit up. Dr. Chen pushes him back down.

"Don't move," she says. "You had silver poisoning. You're lucky to be alive."

"Mira," he says. "She—"

"Betrayed us. I know." I take his hand. "Garrett has her sister. She did not have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice."

"Not when it comes to family." I squeeze his hand. "You would have done the same thing."

He doesn't argue. Can't argue. Because we both know it's true.

"Garrett wants me at the Cascade Pack house tomorrow night," I say. "Alone. Or he starts killing people. Starting with your family."

"Then we do not go."

"He has my father's journals. All the evidence. Everything I need to destroy him."

"It is a trap."

"I know."

"You are going anyway."

"I have not decided yet."

That's a lie. We both know it's a lie. I'm going. Of course I'm going. Because Garrett has the journals and he has leverage and he's not going to stop until I face him.

But I don't have to go alone.

"Rest," I tell Declan. "We will figure this out."

He closes his eyes. His hand stays in mine.

Dr. Chen leaves us alone. I hear her moving around in the other room, putting away supplies, making phone calls.

I sit in the chair next to Declan's table and watch him breathe. In and out. Steady. Alive.

The mate bond hums between us. Quiet. Insistent. Undeniable.

I'm not ready for this. Not ready for what it means. But ready or not, it's here.

And I'm not running from it anymore.

---

I wake up to the sound of an engine.

For a second I don't know where I am. Then it comes back. The cabin. Dr. Chen. Declan on the table next to me, still breathing, still alive.

The engine gets closer. Stops.

Dr. Chen appears in the doorway. "We have a problem."

I'm on my feet. "What kind of problem?"

"The kind with four wheels and a police scanner." She tosses me a set of keys. "There's another car out back. Take it. Go. Now."

"What about you?"

"I'll handle this. I've handled worse." She looks at Declan. "Can he walk?"

"I can walk." Declan sits up. He's pale but steady. The bandages around his ribs are clean. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here." I help him off the table. He's weak but he can stand. That's something.

We go out the back door. There's a car waiting, just like Dr. Chen said. Old. Beaten up. The kind that doesn't attract attention.

"Keys are in the ignition," Dr. Chen calls after us. "There's a map in the glove box. Safe houses marked in red. Don't trust anyone. Don't stop moving. And Sloane?"

I turn back.

"Your father's journals. Whatever Garrett has in them, it's bad enough that he's willing to start a war to keep them secret. Be careful."

I nod. We get in the car.

I drive.

Behind us, I hear voices. Shouting. Dr. Chen's voice, calm and authoritative, talking to whoever just showed up.

Buying us time.

"Where are we going?" Declan asks.

"I don't know yet."

"Sloane—"

"I said I don't know." My hands are shaking on the wheel. "I need to think."

He doesn't push. Just sits there, breathing, alive.

The map in the glove box shows a dozen safe houses scattered across the territory. Red dots marking places my father set up. Places he thought I might need.

Places he prepared for me because he knew. He knew Garrett was going to come for him. Knew he might not survive. Knew I'd be alone.

Except I'm not alone.

I have Declan. For better or worse, I have him.

"The Cascade Pack house," I say. "Tomorrow night. We are going."

"That is a terrible idea."

"I know."

"Garrett will be waiting. He will have wolves. Weapons. Every advantage."

"I know."

"We will probably die."

"Probably."

He's quiet for a long moment. Then: "Alright."

"Alright?"

"If you are going, I am going with you. That is not negotiable."

Something in my chest loosens. Just a little.

"Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet." He touches his ribs, winces. "We still have to survive the next twenty-four hours."

I drive. The sun is setting now, painting the sky orange and red. Blood colors.

The map shows a safe house thirty miles north. Abandoned warehouse. Off the grid. Should be empty.

Should be.

I take the next exit and head north.

The warehouse appears out of the darkness like a ghost. Concrete and rust and broken windows. The kind of place where bad things happen and nobody asks questions.

Perfect.

I park around back. We go in through a side door that's hanging off its hinges.

Inside, it's exactly what I expected. Empty. Cold. Smells like oil and decay.

"Home sweet home," I mutter.

Declan finds a corner that's relatively clean and sits down, back against the wall. He's exhausted. The silver poisoning took everything out of him.

I sit next to him. Close enough that our shoulders touch.

"I am sorry," he says.

"For what?"

"For not telling you. About Cascade Pack. About knowing who you were." He's looking straight ahead, not at me. "I should have told you from the beginning."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was afraid." His voice is quiet. Raw. "Afraid you would look at me the way you looked at me in that safe house. Like I was the enemy. Like I was one of them."

"Were you? One of them?"

"No." He turns to face me. "I was Garrett's beta-in-training. That part is true. But I left. Six months before your family died, I left. Because I found out what he was doing. The omega trafficking. The murders. All of it. And I could not be part of that. So I walked away."

"And he let you?"

"No. He sent wolves after me. Tried to kill me. I've been running ever since." He touches his ribs again. "Until I found you in that alley. And then I stopped running."

"Why?"

"Because you needed help. And because—" He stops. Starts again. "Because the moment I saw you, I knew. The mate bond. I felt it. And I thought maybe, if I could help you, if I could keep you safe, maybe I could make up for all the things I did not do when I was part of his pack."

The mate bond. He felt it too.

"I am not your redemption," I say.

"I know."

"And I am not going to forgive you just because we are mates."

"I know that too."

"But—" I take his hand. "I am not going to push you away either. Not anymore. We are in this together now. For better or worse."

He squeezes my hand. "For better or worse."

We sit there in the darkness, holding hands, not talking. Just breathing. Just being.

Tomorrow we go to the Cascade Pack house. Tomorrow we face Garrett. Tomorrow we probably die.

But tonight, we're alive. We're together.

And that's enough.

---

I wake up to the sound of a car engine.

Again.

This is becoming a pattern.

Declan is already on his feet, moving toward the window. "Someone is here."

"How many?"

"One car. Can't see inside."

I grab the tire iron I found earlier. Not much of a weapon but it's better than nothing.

The car pulls up to the warehouse. Stops. The engine cuts off.

A door opens. Footsteps. Coming toward the side entrance.

I raise the tire iron. Declan positions himself next to the door, ready to attack.

The door opens.

Mira walks in.

She sees us. Stops. Raises her hands.

"I am not here to fight," she says.

"Yeah, no." I don't lower the tire iron. "You betrayed us. You told Garrett where we were. You—"

"I know." Her voice breaks. "I know what I did. And I am sorry. But I had to. He has my sister. He said he would kill her if I did not—"

"You already said that." Declan's voice is cold. Dangerous. "Why are you here?"

"Because he is going to kill her anyway." Tears are running down Mira's face now. "I gave him what he wanted. I told him where you were. And he still has her. He is not going to let her go. He is going to kill her and then he is going to kill me and—"

"Where is she?" I ask.

"The Cascade Pack house. In the basement. He is keeping her there until tomorrow night. Until you show up