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Well, when she puts it like that...

Fuck.

“I lost control.”

“Clearly.”

“My Devil recognized her.”

“Great. Did Belinda recognize you?”

I open my mouth.

Close it.

Megan points at me.

“That's your biggest problem.”

“No, my problem is that my promised mate won't listen to me.”

“No,” she says. “Your problem is that you keep talking like finding out she's your promised means she stopped being a person with choices.”

That hits harder than I expect. Owen's expression changes too. He knows exactly what she's talking about.

His own Wolf recognized Megan long before either of them knew what the hell to do about it. The difference is Owen understood that his instincts didn't erase Megan's mind. Even his Wolf's possessiveness came with the grudging acknowledgment that Megan remained her own woman.

I scrub a hand over my face.

“I didn't mean to take anything from her.”

“Then don't,” Megan says.

“I already fucking bit her.”

“Yes. Which is why your next move matters.”

The station door opens.

“I heard someone is being stupid.”

Owen closes his eyes.

“Hello, Mama.”

Annabeth Randall walks in carrying a covered casserole dish. Because apparently every supernatural intervention in Arrhythmia comes with food.

She's exactly as formidable as Owen warned me she was—full-blooded She-Wolf, sharp-eyed, no-nonsense, and capable of making a grown supernatural feel twelve with one look.

Her gaze lands on me. Then the purple ribbon still tied to my wing.

“Oh, honey.”

“No.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking it.”