hina'

y. The old, wrought-iron gates of the Blackwood Pack territory loomed before me, the same sn

d out of the guardhouse. They didn't recognize me. Their stances were rigid,

y window. "This is private property. You nee

ce. I could smell the warriors, too-the scent of fresh grass and wary hostility. Ten years. Ten years ago, the

hoarse from the long night. "I received a su

fraction of a second, then narrowed with a look of dawning recognition, q

g over me, my face, my old truck, judging every detail. He mu

bordered the road. The entire territory felt like a living creature, a be

ed, her unease a low thrum beneath my

e massive gates began to swing inward. "Go on," the older guar

t the faces that turned to watch me pass were cold. Pack members who would have once waved and smiled no

ractice our shifts, the big rock we'd jump from into the riv

ing fortress of dark stone and timber. It looked bigger

he visitor's lot. Not in the family spa

. Grief, sharp and bitter. Anxiety, a sour, electric tang. And underneath it all,

e myself small. Just as I reached the door, I saw them through the reinforced glass-a flash of

Ethan, Celeste's staunchest defender, who hated me with a passion that had only grown o

ath, I pushed open

cloying, sweet scent of healing herbs

aw me, and their faces hardened. A few gave me curt, almost

oward the ICU at the end of the hall. Each s

o had sent the message, a man who had been our family's doctor since I was a

registered on his tired f

, his voice came out as a dry

I could barely force the words

immed, and he gave a slow,

sent me plummeting

The attack was precise. They used a rare cocktail of toxins, laced with sil

and his own was filled wit

said, his voice breaking on the las