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There’s no fucking way we can smooth this over.
ISLA: Smooth it over may be the wrong terminology here.
You think?
ISLA: You need to offer them comfort and support. Create boundaries while encouraging the use of the pack house as much as possible. They need to feel safe until this can be wrapped up, even if it takes weeks to months or more.
ROAN: You need to protect the fucking pack house.
SAM: What do you mean?
Explain, you furry fuck.
He didn’t. Jesus fucking Christ. This wasn’t the time for Roan to be distracted—not after saying something like that. I squeezed my phone as anxious energy surged through my body. Waiting wasn’t my strong suit. My wolf growled deep inside me, echoing my frustration.
That five fucking minutes it took for him to say shit was agonizing.
ROAN: Well, two things:
ROAN: 1—it’s a fucking gold mine of wolves coming and going. If the hunter set up shop outside the house, he just has to sit there and pick you off one by one.
Jesus fuck…
SAM: And #2?
ROAN: What the fuck will happen if the hunter gets inside your barriers?
That’s not fucking possible.
COLE: Bea says anything is fucking possible with magic.
COLE: Especially when hunter magic is designed to take out wolves.
ALICE: Y’all need to be safe. Our place is open if you need it.
We can’t fucking do that. The last thing we want is to lead the hunter right to another pack house.
MAVERICK: If any of your pack members want to leave—those with kids especially—send them down to us. We’ll keep them safe.
My phone rang after the last text message came in. Declan. I answered without hesitation.
“How do we protect all of them?” he asked when I answered. Panic laced his voice, his breathing heavier than usual.
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. That tightening in my chest was accompanied by a wave of hopelessness. I didn’t have a fucking clue what to do. How the hell were we supposed to hunt down the very thing born and trained to destroy us?
I felt my resolve fracturing the longer I stared at Michael’s body. That hopelessness mingled with bad habits trying to edge their way to the surface—and how I wanted to fucking cave. To give in. To not deal with shit.
I couldn’t see a way out of this.
Not one that ended quickly and without more bodies of innocent wolves.
Chapter 62
Killian
There were no decorations. No chicken wire ghosts. No playful witches. No spooky clings in the windows. No pumpkins. I crossed my arms, frowning as I stared at our house. There wasn’t a goddamn pumpkin anywhere in sight. Had she not started decorating for Halloween?
That was unlike Genevieve. She’d always been ready to decorate for Halloween the minute the Fourth of July was over.
