Monet pulls two hundred dollars from her pocket and hands it to me—part of her payment plan.
“Thank you,” I say with genuine gratitude, accepting the cash.
“I’ll have the rest of the balance next week,” she promises, walking around the counter and heading out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Once she’s gone, the panic sets in. I immediately go online to Zillow and start looking at new rentals in the area, only for my defeat to hit me harder than before. Everything is overpriced, and nothing fits my budget.
This hurts. This fucking hurts. I’m really being priced out of my own community.
In the corner of the search page, I notice an ad for Wintermoon Cruise with a special offer flashing. Wintermoon—ha! It usually costs between $7k-$10k just to secure a ticket, and that’s for one person, not the whole family. I’m not that desperate to see supernaturals. Besides, I see them all the time in Detroit, heading to that nightclub Thirst Trap for safe passage to Wintermoon.
I’m right in the middle of the Great Migration for supernaturals. As much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s this migration that’s brought Detroit off its knees. Because Michigan as a state had fallen into bankruptcy due to corruption across the board, years of bad policies, and political greed.
I’m a Detroiter through and through, born and raised in the heart of the D, where as big as this city is, it’s a small world. Everyone knows someone in this town. In fact, I’m related to the Blandings. Everyone in Detroit knows at least one Blanding. I laugh to myself.
I don’t know why, but I click on the ad, and a pop-up video covers most of my browser.
“Experience the majesty of Wintermoon like never before!” A smooth, enchanting voice flows from my speakers as the video shows a massive four-level cruise ship cutting through crystal-clear waters. “Aboard the Wintermoon Cruise, luxury meets adventure on Michigan’s most spectacular waterways.”
The video transitions to show passengers lounging on the sundeck, cocktails in hand, while shifters—their supernatural nature evident in their glowing eyes—attend to their every need.
“Tour the mystical boundaries of Wintermoon Territory from the safety and comfort of our state-of-the-art vessel. Witness the breathtaking Royal Island from a distance that offers both safety and spectacular views. View the Tourist Island with our exclusive viewing packages.”
Scenes of the ship’s elegant dining room appear, with tables covered in fine linens and plates filled with exquisite cuisine. The video shows passengers dancing under stars that seem impossibly bright, their faces alight with joy and wonder.
“Indulge in five-star dining crafted by our supernatural chefs who bring centuries of culinary expertise to every dish. As night falls, dance beneath the stars on our moonlit deck, with entertainment that spans generations of musical mastery.”
The camera pans across the ship’s various amenities—a sparkling pool, luxurious spa rooms, and elegant suites with panoramic views of the water.
“All of this luxury is now within your reach with our limited-time offer. Experience peace, relaxation, and the magic of the supernatural world—all while being treated like royalty by our shifter staff who are dedicated to making your journey unforgettable.”
The video closes with a sunset view from the ship’s bow, the waters painted in gold and crimson, with the silhouette of Wintermoon Territory visible in the distance.
“Have you booked your cruise to Wintermoon? Paradise awaits...”
When the video ends, it redirects me to the booking website. I stare at the price: $4,000 for 5 days and 4 nights. How can I say no to that? The cruise not only takes passengers on a tour of Wintermoon but travels through Lake Huron and stops in Chicago for a day before returning to Detroit. The regular price is $7,000 for a ticket—this is a steal.
Something pulls me to spend the money. Is it the weight of my situation, or something more? When was the last time I did something nice for myself? I’ve been all work and no play.
My world has just been turned upside down. It’s stupid to book a trip like this right now—I need to be figuring out how to keep my business from going under. Yet, I pull out my wallet and start the process of booking my vacation.
“Nothing wrong with a little soft girl vacation every now and then,” I say to the empty room, clicking the “Confirm Booking” button.
Sometimes you’ve got to splurge on yourself, even when the world is falling apart around you.
3
JABARI
One Week Later
Istuff my clothes into my duffel bag, not bothering to fold them. My cabin at Frost Clan sits practically empty—just a bed and sparse furniture scattered about. The only thing I ever focused on since migrating to Wintermoon was stocking my kitchen. The rest never mattered.
A knock at the door makes me groan. The creak of hinges follows, and two sets of footsteps enter my cabin. I don’t need to look to know who it is—my brother Silas and his mate Jewel. Their scents are as familiar to me as my own.
I throw my bag over my shoulder and exit my bedroom, heading down the stairs into the main living area where Silas stands with his eyes narrowed at me. I can already see it in his expression—he’s going to try to stop me.
“Brother, I’m all for you getting out of the clan to work,” he begins, voice measured. “I know seeing all of us paired is making your bear restless, but the cruise ship?”
