The front door creaks again.
A third man walks out, heavier build, face obscured by the collar of his coat. He’s holding something—metal in one hand, red in the other.
Malachi grips my hand tight.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
The red thing isn’t a weapon. It’s a gas can.
We crouch lower, and Malachi tugs me gently but urgently back toward the tree line, moving fast, barely making a sound as the snow flurries pick up all around us.
We reach the jeep without speaking, without looking back. But I know what I saw and what’s about to happen to Irina’s house.
We slip inside the jeep, both of us easing the door shut so slowly it barely clicks. Still, I wince. My eyes squeeze shut on instinct, bracing for a sound I already know the wolf will hear. Every noise feels loud.
Malachi sits frozen, one hand on the ignition, the other gripping the wheel. We’re both listening.
Waiting.
Boom.
Irina’s house erupts into flames behind us. The blast punches through the night like thunder, followed by a shockwave that makes the jeep tremble beneath us. A flash of orange light swallows the darkness for a split second, fire blooming out of the windows and licking the sky.
Malachi doesn’t flinch. That was the sound he was waiting for.
He starts the engine, throws the gear into drive, and we tear off the property, no headlights, no warning, only snow and speed as we veer off road into the trees behind the cabin.
I twist in my seat, eyes wide, scanning the fields through the rear window. My breath fogs the glass. I’m searching for movement. A car. A silhouette. Glowing yellow eyes. Anything.
But there’s nothing but darkness.
And behind it, the distant, rising glow of Irina’s property burning to the ground.
“Fuck, did you see Gary? Did you see the wolf he had withhim?” I say once I realize no one’s following us. My heart is still hammering against my ribs from whatever the hell happened back there.
“Gary’s doing whatever he’s told, like a good boy, always acting like a fucking puppet.” Malachi doesn’t look in my direction, doesn’t slow down. The speedometer needle keeps climbing. “It’s not Gary I’m worried about. Did you see the guy with long hair?”
He gives me a quick sideways glance, and I catch something dark flickering in his eyes.
“Yeah, I did. And the third man who came out with the gas can, but I didn’t recognize either of them.” I buckle my seatbelt with shaking fingers and turn to face him fully, studying his profile. There’s something he’s not telling me. “Who were they?”
Malachi’s silent for a long moment, like he’s debating how much to reveal. Finally, he exhales. “I don’t know who the third guy was, but the one with long hair is named Rupert. And he’s not only friends with Irina. He’s a Syndicate member.”
My mouth falls open, and I stare at him, trying to process what this means. “You’re telling me one of her allies torched her house?”
“I don’t think she’s the target,” he says. “We are.”
“Where are you taking us now?” I ask, in disbelief about the turn of events tonight. My mind is reeling, trying to piece together what happened.
“Now we’ll go to your boyfriend’s house.” His mouth curls up on one side, that infuriating smirk I know too well.
“Don’t call him that,” I snap, and slap his shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “I don’t know how you can smile right now after what’s going on.” I scowl at him, but he chuckles, the sound dark and a little unhinged.
“Kat, I’m not going to lie. This is all sorts of fucked up, and all I can do right now is laugh about it.” He chuckles again, shaking his head. “Otherwise, I might lose my damn mind.”
“Are you insane?” I stare at him like he’s completely lost it. “Why Cade’s house of all places?”
Mish appears in my lap, her ghostly form materializing like smoke. She stretches her ethereal limbs before curling into a ball, and I feel that familiar coolness against my thighs. She always knows when I’m stressed.
