Chapter Four

The convoy heading back set out after midnight.

The full moon hung high, turning the snowline ghostly pale. Sheer rock walls rose on both sides. Coyote’s cars snaked away from the castle like a string of black iron, slowly entering the canyon road toward the northern border. The night wind blew down from above, damp and rimed with frost.

As usual, I sat in the back of the main car, door on my right, Chaya on my left, Owen beside her.

The interior lights were turned down low. Only a small circle of warm light shone over their side of the seats, as if walling them off from everyone else. Owen reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers pausing briefly at her neck.

“Smells good,” he said.

Chaya smiled, hands folded on her knees, but her gaze slid to me.

“I actually think Heloise’s scent is nicer,” she said.

I went rigid. I’d been wearing suppressants for years. My scent was almost nonexistent now. That line was nothing but pointed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Owen answered gently—so gently he barely sounded like himself. “How could she compare to you?”

Exactly. What knife could compare to his Luna queen?

I didn’t look over. I turned my face to the window.

Wind howled past the glass.

I’d been counting my breaths, slow and even, when my instincts suddenly clenched on the thirty-fifth—metal fuel igniting.

By the time the rocket’s tail flame streaked past us from above, I was already moving on reflex, hurling myself right, whole body wedged between the door and the rest of the cabin.

“Missile lock—”

I didn’t get to finish.

The shrieking whistle was already there.

In that instant, I grabbed for Owen, intending to drag him toward me. If I could just slam us both out the door and take the blast with my back—

But he moved faster.

He planted his foot on my door, using my side as a springboard to launch himself upward. He scooped Chaya into his arms in one smooth motion and vaulted out the far side.

He used my door as a convenient step.

And left me in the center of the blast.

The world exploded.

The boom blew every other sound away. Glass shattered into a storm, fire and shockwave slammed in through the torn metal. I curled tight around my core, shoulder and side taking the worst of the impact. My vision went white.

Snarling rose around us—mercenary wolves, halfway shifted, charging.

My change stalled midway. Half-wolf, half-human, I dragged a few enemies from the flames, snapped several throats between my teeth. Blood and smoke burned their way into my lungs. Consciousness frayed at the edges.

The half-mark on my neck screamed, flaring and thrashing between manic rage and pain. I bit down on the taste of my own blood, refusing to let myself lose control completely.

Then everything shattered into black.

When I woke, it was to familiar smells—disinfectant, metal, sedatives. Coyote’s infirmary.

My throat felt like it had been sanded raw. Every breath was a stab in my chest. The anesthetic must not have fully worn off yet. My limbs were hollow, but my head was clear.

Outside in the corridor, voices were raised, excited enough to crack.

“The Alpha’s fine! Barely injured!”

“Miss Chaya made it too. Moon goddess really smiled on us—walking out of that explosion alive!”

“Our future mistress has a strong life.”

No one mentioned me.

I lay there, listening quietly, my chest rising and falling like someone was forcing it under ice water.

The curtain lifted a little. A nurse came in to adjust the monitors, then propped a tablet against the cabinet to watch the field report. The angle of the screen happened to face me.

The central feed was a charred wasteland. In the foreground, Chaya stood wrapped in a blanket, half cradled in Owen’s arms. Her expression was “shaken but brave,” tears glimmering just enough to tug sympathy.

Owen’s shirt was open. On his bare chest, the little moon tattoo that used to stand for my bond with him—

Was now covered by a freshly inked double-wolf crest. The lines were sharp, the ink still new, obliterating all trace of what had been beneath.

I stared at that patch of skin for a long time.

The leftover explosion pain, the blunt ache in my bones, the knife in my throat—all of it blurred as something drove a blade through my sternum and slowly pulled it back out, taking seven years with it.

He hadn’t just left me in the blast.

He’d already covered over the last mark I’d left on him.

The nurse adjusted the settings and took the tablet away. I shut my eyes, letting the tears soak silently into the pillow. When I opened them again, my phone buzzed.

A new message flashed on the screen.

[In three days, union ceremony with Ahsoka. You will attend. You will personally present the moonstone dagger as a symbol of peace, so the Northern Continent will witness the South’s continued submission.]

I read it word by word.

The moonstone dagger—his gift to me as a protection blade. For years, he’d helped me maintain and strengthen my weapons. Now, he wanted me to hand it over.

My wolf slammed against its cage, snarling and tearing. Seven years of training and obedience turned on themselves, snapping back in my face.

My nails dug into my palms until I smelled blood. One drop at a time, I forced that howl down. I wrapped my fingers around the phone and exhaled slowly.

Fine.

If he wanted me there, I’d go.

But—

It would be the last time Heloise Valerian ever appeared on the Northern Continent.

After that, there would not be a next time.