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manage to drop my jaw on her flank. I meet her eyes. Endless and empty.

The werewolf smells putrid like rot and thrashes me around like a rag-doll. I kick, but she crashes down on me, holding me against the ground. Thankfully, she doesn’t break the skin.

I don’t panic, but wonder why my betas haven’t stepped in. Shoving upward, she falters, I roll out from under her.

Shaken, I get to my feet, but she races out of sight.

My betas, now in wolf form, take off after her, barking furiously. I don’t take my eyes from the woods. I see a flash of teeth and consider following in pursuit, but have to look after Kenna and her father...who’s no longer a shadow against the backdrop of night. He’s gone.

I shift back to physical form, scrambling around for my clothing. “Where’d Greyson go?”

Kenna’s face slackens like sadness threatens to wash over her again. She stares into the near distance.

“Can you look at me?”

As she shakes her head no, I brush her jaw with my fingers. A charge of delight, of flame not extinguishable by anything, not even magic, rushes through me, charging me with renewed energy. Yet, my breath, my heart, and my pulse falter.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She sinks back and away from me.

Her eyes are a shade so beautiful, it’s sure to be nameless. However, her movements are twitchy, like she’s nervous. Not meeting my gaze, she says, “I’ll stand for my father’s crimes.”

I swallow and then clear my throat.

“No.”

The wind gusts, disturbing the leaves that remain on the trees.

“I’m afraid, Corbin.”

“Of what?”

“Of myself. Of what I might become.”

She quavers. Then the night fills with light, emanating from her hands in rings of yellow, orange, and white. Fae magic.

My skin crawls with the awareness that she’s given into her fae nature. A terribly beautiful song falls from her lips, tempting, mesmerizing, drawing me close. The tune rises and falls to the pounding and fluttering in my chest.

Under the spell of her song, the world spins, spins, and spins away from me as I try to find my way back, searching for the meaning in her eyes to match her words love, light, forever. She tells me I’m lucky, I’m hers. I’m a king. I try to slither away from the lies, but her eyes, her song, and her lips as they grow closer, pull me in, and lock me into the desire to give her whatever she wants.

Then there’s another hum, movement in what is otherwise a world on pause. It’s a drum or the beat of a heart. Her wolf breaks the fae spell.

I don’t think. I don’t calculate. I don’t hesitate. I nip her and we both shift, taking off into the woods as shouts come at our backs.

“Spears, guns, napalm if we have to. We will do it properly this time,” a man says.

A pause indicates someone responds in a lower voice.

“I don’t care about property boundaries. We will level these woods until there isn’t anything living, breathing, or killing,” the angry voice hollers.

Must be vigilantes. Now we share any enemy.

Kenna and I slow down. She stalks by my side as we near the road. She’d gripped her clothing between her teeth and drops it. Her lip lifts into a snarl, a warning.

We both shift back to physical form, dress, and scramble up the embankment toward the vehicles.

The wind sends another gust of putrid air in my direction. It’s not quite the same as the werewolf. My wolf growls. “I hate to say it, but I think I shifted too soon.”

From the other end of the road, two figures approach. They stumble like the ground is slippery or like they’re drunk. Not betas. More hunters? Not likely.

I assume a fighting stance, ready to shift again. My Alpha wants to protect her. I know that I need to find Greyson and bring them to the Council.

Kenna’s eyes are steely, determined. She shoots her magic in their direction and then rushes toward one of the cars behind the Jeep. “I’m not sorry, Corbin.” The engine revs, and she takes off.

I won’t leave my betas out there with the werewolf loose. I won’t let someone else die. I draw my wolf to the surface.

The two figures brush off the magic Kenna used. They look human, but I sense grim magic.

In one swift motion, I’m thrust backward, interrupting my shift. I howl as I skid across the cement road. They pin me down.

I smell low tide and menace.

The female’s voice gurgles my name. Scum oozes between her teeth. Her eyes are pupil-less and uneven.

My blood runs cold.

Goblins.

“We’ve come for you,” the male breathes in a sulfuric voice. His eyes are slits, filling me with dread. “You’re coming with us.”

“Not a chance,” I say, kicking out. But before I can break loose, everything goes dark.

My fingers are numb. I wince as I lift my pounding head off the ground. The low, blue light of a whitewashed afternoon filters in through a single, cracked window high above. I listen. The soft whistle of the wind. The particular cool scent of a dewy morning.

I blink my eyes. What happened? The night comes back—transporting Greyson and Kenna back to Concordia, discovering another death, the fight in the woods with the werewolf, Kenna leaving me in a whirl of fae magic, and then my capture by a pair of goblins.

Ropes bind my wrists and ankles. I wiggle my fingers and toes to work blood into them, but the numbness remains a cold ache.

I press onto my shoulder to get onto my knees. Keeling over, I try again, more slowly this time. I clang into an old rake and some gardening tools.

I listen again. Silence. “Hello?” I call. The cold

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