Chapter Five

Days later, the moon goddess’s bells shook the whole city.

The front doors of the church stood wide open. Coyote’s banner and Ahsoka’s hung side by side beneath the sacred statue. Elders and pack leaders from every major Northern pack filled the benches on either side.

I stood at the far end of the aisle, both hands cupping the moonstone dagger. The ceremonial robes weighed heavy on my shoulders. Over my heart was our war-pack’s crest—a black phoenix in flight.

“So beautiful.”

The sweet, cloying voice came from behind me.

I turned to see Chaya.

Today, she wore a white-and-gold gown worth more than some small farms. The diamond coronet on her head flashed under the stained glass, like a storybook heroine with the ending written in for her. She approached and stopped in front of me, her gaze dropping to the phoenix on my chest.

“That’s your Southern crest, isn’t it?” she tilted her head, smiling. “Shame. You flew so far, only to perch on Coyote’s shoulder in the end.”

“Barely tolerable as a roost,” I said, my tone neither cold nor warm.

She blinked, voice going softer. “But if a little bird gets abandoned by its master, it’s going to hit the ground hard when it falls, don’t you think, Miss Heloise? Knowing how easy you were to replace… doesn’t that hurt?”

I was about to answer when a low male voice came from behind:

“What are you two talking about?”

Owen crossed the space between us, arm sliding easily around her waist. As he passed me, he didn’t even flick a glance my way.

“Nothing.” Chaya instantly donned her sweet, obedient expression, lip jutting slightly. “I just felt bad for Miss Heloise, standing here all alone. It looks so lonely.”

“That’s her duty,” Owen said mildly. “Heloise, being a good blade and offering a blade is all you need to do.”

My face stayed calm. “Understood, Alpha.”

When the organ began to play, every light in the church flared. Coyote’s and Ahsoka’s banners hung at our feet. Wrapped in heavy white robes, I walked from the far end of the aisle toward the altar, moonstone dagger in hand.

At the altar, Owen held Chaya’s hand. Under the lights, they made a fair picture—a future Northern Alpha, and the Omega who came with minerals and alliance.

He stood straight and stone-faced, only cutting me a cool sidelong glance as I approached.

A presiding elder unfurled a scroll, voice ringing out.

“Today, Coyote and Ahsoka unite under the eye of the Moon Goddess. From this day forth, the two packs will share—”

I stopped listening. My eyes were on the dagger in my hands.

Under the lamps, the moonstone glowed soft and milky, but the edge of the blade was very real. According to custom, when the vows were finished, I was to walk up, kneel halfway to Chaya, and offer the dagger to her.

“Southern Continent,” the elder’s voice echoed above.

I drew in a breath and stepped forward.

Up close, Chaya’s smile was tender, but satisfaction flashed in her eyes. She stared at the dagger, savoring her “victory” in advance.

“Kneel,” the elder prompted.

My knees started to bend.

Right as the hem of my robe was about to touch the floor—the lights went out. The whole church was swallowed by darkness. Only the thin, cold glow of the stained glass remained, turning the statue into a blurred shadow.

Someone swore under their breath. Others gasped.

“What happened?!”

“The power—”

The second voice cut off. Metal rang sharply against stone.

A split second later, I saw what was rolling across the floor, catching the last of the light.

“Grenade!” I snarled. “Down!”

The silver shell clinked along the stone and rolled to a stop right between the three of us. That faint gleam in the dark looked like an eye opening.

Everything stretched.

I lunged on instinct, still holding the dagger, reaching to scoop up the grenade and hurl it away.

Chaya’s scream sliced the air.

“Owen—!”

He moved almost at the same time.

He grabbed Chaya’s arm and yanked her into his chest, foot slamming down hard on the stone step on my side. Using my position as a springboard, he launched them both backwards, out of the blast zone.

He kicked off from my side, swept right past me without a moment’s hesitation.

And left me there with the grenade.

A second later, the world blew apart.

The detonation swallowed every sound. Blinding light scalded my retinas. The shockwave hit like a wall, flinging me backwards. All that was left in my ears was a piercing ring. My lungs and throat filled with smoke and iron.

Stone pillars cracked. In the next explosion, the church began to crumble. My world went black again.

But I knew one thing.

The person who should have been standing in front of me had, for the second time, used me as a stepping stone to throw himself and another Omega clear of the blast.

When I came to, white seared my eyes.

My throat hurt even worse than last time, like someone had stuffed it with broken glass. Even breathing felt like knives. Someone spoke near my ear.

“Consciousness is back. Pupillary response is normal.”

Another voice. “Can she talk? Heloise, try.”

I opened my mouth.

“…Khh…”

The barest scrape of air came out, sending a flash of agony through my throat. My eyes watered instantly. A nurse pushed me flat.

“Don’t speak. The smoke burned your vocal cords. Forcing it will make it worse.”

I shut my mouth. Even breathing, I took shallow and careful.

The door opened. I smelled cedar stronger than disinfectant.

I squinted. Owen stood at the foot of the bed. He’d changed into a clean shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his face dark as a storm.

“You really are something,” he said. His tone was icy hard.

My throat clenched. My first instinct was to ask what, but all that came out was a rasping wheeze that hurt so much my brows knit.

Owen walked closer. His gaze slid from my face to my bandaged shoulder, then lingered on the right side of my body—the side I’d thrown in front of the blast.

The corner of his mouth hitched in something like a sneer.

“I had no idea Norton was the kind of person to risk his life for someone.”