"GUIDE! Everyone freeze!" The command echoes across the property as dark figures swarm into the yard, weapons drawn and aimed.
The yard erupts into chaos. Agents shout contradictory orders. Rainwater reflects emergency lights. Then the metallic clicks of safeties disengaging. Through the wolf's heightened senses, I watch Astrid turn toward them, shouting words that fragment against the blood thundering in my ears.
No. No. Are they here for her? For me?
Cormac's fingers twist in my fur, his face bone-white beneath the rain. "I'm hiding us," he gasps, the scent of his blood sharp with wrongness. Magick warms the air, weak but desperate. "Not for long?—"
The air shimmers as his glamour takes effect—not invisibility but a cloak of disinterest that will slide human eyes away from where we stand.
"River," he manages, each word costing him. "Get to the river."
The human part of me understands—water means sirens means escape means safety. But the wolf remains torn between the wounded pack-brother and the woman who carries my soul within her body.
A whine escapes my jaws, high and plaintive.
Astrid shouts commands. Weapons answer with thunder and flame. Metal beasts disgorge more hunters.
The wolf's hackles rise, ancient instinct recognizing death even without understanding its modern form.
Cormac's glamour flickers as his strength ebbs, blood darkening the rain-soaked ground beneath him. His eyes meet mine—glazed with pain but clear with purpose.
"Go," he whispers, "before the glamour falls."
The choice tears at me—soul calling to soul, mate to mate. The wolf wants to stay, to claim, to protect what belongs to us. But Cormac needs help, and these hunters have come for me. For us.
I gently take Cormac's jacket between my teeth and begin dragging him toward the sheltering darkness. Every step away from Astrid feels like swimming against Aegir's tide, the pull almost physical in its intensity.
For one heartbeat, Astrid's eyes seem to find mine through the failing glamour—an impossible connection across the chaos. Then it breaks as I drag Cormac into the sanctuary of the trees, the wolf's night vision carving a path through darkness.
Behind us, the yard descends further into chaos—shouted commands, threats, the distinct crack of weapons firing into the night.
Mate. Protect. Return.
But I don't drop Cormac. I fight the wolf's instinct and plunge deeper into the forest, away from the woman who carries my soul.
Blood traces our path like breadcrumbs, too much blood. The glamour has failed entirely, leaving us exposed to any who follow.
I whine, the sound carrying all the pain my wolf-form can't express in words.
Every step carries me further from Astrid. From our mate. From completion.
She is the missing piece of our soul. The one we've crossed worlds to find. She is ours, and we are hers.
And neither GUIDE nor glamour nor gods themselves will keep us apart.
CHAPTER 12
He Knew My Name
* * *
Astrid Mathieson
Tactical lights slice through the darkness of my mother's backyard, illuminating falling rain in harsh white streaks. Water soaks through my thin tank top, cold rivulets trickling down my spine while adrenaline keeps the chill at bay. Bullets ping off Mom's prized garden fence, wood splinters exploding outward like deadly confetti.
My sanctuary—violated.
My mother—endangered.
