Page 175 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

Priya’s face brightened. “Oh, she’s brilliant. I saw her last night, actually. She’s loving her new university.”

After everything that happened in Switzerland, Isla had needed somewhere safe to land. We’d helped to forge a fresh start for her, and somehow Priya had convinced Emma to let Isla move into her houseshare in Clapham.

“She’s doing medicine again, right?” Felix asked.

“Yup. She’s at King’s,” Priya confirmed. “Says it’s mental trying to catch up, but she’s determined. And Emma’s been helping her with the London stuff—Tube maps, where to get decent coffee, that sort of thing.”

“Good,” Rory said quietly. “She deserves normal.”

I nodded in agreement. Isla had lost everything—her mother, her sense of identity, her entire world. But she was building something new now.

“She always asks after the wolves,” Priya said. “I’ve reassured her that we’ve taken care of them all.”

And then, the mammoth task of returning the wolves to their home cities.

Some had been missing for years. Others, like my father, had been presumed dead by their families. Some of them barely remembered who they even were.

We’d ended up housing twelve of them at the hotel for weeks while Seb and I worked the phones, negotiating with pack leaders across Europe. Most of the wolves had nowhere to go back to. Greywatch had been systematic about targeting the displaced, the outcasts, the ones no one would miss.

The worst part was knowing that releasing them made them targets again. Greywatch might be crumbling, but that didn’t mean every operative had gotten the memo. We couldn’t just dump a hundred vulnerable shifters back into the world and hope for the best.

So Seb had called in every favour he’d accumulated over five centuries, while I’d spent hours on encrypted calls with alpha after alpha, explaining the situation, begging for sanctuary. Some had been sympathetic. Others had demanded payment. A few had hung up on us entirely.

The whole process had taken months.

A grey blur materialised on the coffee table as if from thin air. Freddy landed with surprising grace, clutching something small and dark between his yellowed teeth. The little zombie managed an impressively triumphant expression for a deceased ferret.

“Oh, you absolute—” Rory shot to his feet, panic flashing across his face. “Give that back, you little shit!”

His genuine distress slammed into me like a punch. Not playful annoyance—real fear.

Freddy darted sideways, evading Rory’s grabbing hands with undead agility.

“Give that back!” Rory screeched, voice cracking. “It’s supposed to be in my pocket!”

I lurched forward and snatched the object from Freddy’s jaws, staring down at a small velvet box. Square. Dark blue.

I looked up, meeting Priya’s gaze across the room. Her mouth had snapped shut, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Give it back, Kit!” Rory held out his hands, practically vibrating with panic.

I slowly handed it over, my brain struggling to process what I’d just seen.

Rory snatched the box and bolted across the room, feet thundering up the basement stairs.

Theo stared after him, looking more gobsmacked than I’d ever seen him. His mouth worked soundlessly.

“Was that a—” Flynn started.

“Shh!” Priya cut him off sharply.

Felix hissed in my ear, “Go and talk to him!”

I slowly got to my feet, feeling like I was in a play but had forgotten all my lines. The basement had gone silent except for Freddy’s satisfied chittering.

I climbed the stairs, following Rory’s scent through the hotel to find him in reception, standing miserably beside Dolly’s desk with his forehead pressed against the wood.

I pressed my hand against his back, feeling the tension coiled in his shoulders.