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It wasnice having family back home. Admittedly, things could get a little quiet with just the three of us and the house staff in this gigantic complex that was our estate. I’d missed our family breakfasts, with all of my brothers here and Christophe fussing over us all, playing the familywhip.

We atebreakfast and talked about our lives. Vander and Pell told us about the new healing clinics they were going to open in downtown Wolfheart, and Mason talked about the non-profit organization he’d recently started to offer assistance to lowborn neighborhoods. I updated them about my work with the clan, assisting Christophe with official duties and negotiations with other clans. It was challenging and necessary work, but not anything I enjoyed. I did it out of duty as the second eldest, not because it offered any kind of major enrichment to my life. What Ireallycared about was motorcycle racing—wolf-cycle racing, to beexact.

What was the difference?Speed and ferocity. A regular motorcycle could be raced with human response times, but a wolf-cycle required the reflexes of a shifted form. The rider rode immersed inside the vehicle, fore and hind legs stretched out as if in mid gallop. They were operated with delicate controls at each paw, and maxed out at a speed three times faster than regular human sport bikes. The racing courses were filled with treacherous obstacles that required split second reactions and heightened senses. There was nothing like the thrill of the race, not even chasing a new woman. My brothers were curious about my racing, but my parents were less than thrilled about it so I tried not to bring it up around them. Still, it’d been a long time since I’d seen them so it was hard not to get carried away when the conversation turned tobikes.

“You should’ve seenthat race, Van,” I said, my voice trembling slightly with excitement. “Insanity. Red Stallford and Vivian Elfang were leading the pack, I was right behind them. We hit four hundred miles an hour in the straightaway. The obstacles were coming at us like snow in a blizzard—so thick there wasn’t a single inch for error. Red clipped his side on one of the pillars; thankfully it wasn’t bad, but he was sent to the hospital with three broken legs. Vivian and I were muzzle to muzzle by the end. I remember everything was just a blur, I was so damn focused on that finish line. But, in the end, I was a better racer than her. Edged her out by onemillisecond.”

“Igotta admit,since becoming a healer, your racing became less thrilling and more nerve-wracking for me to hear about,” Vansaid.

“Our team treatedRed Stallford at the downtown clinic, actually,” Pell said. “I saw the race. Hell of a finish,Arthur.”

“Thank you,Pell. Someone who understandsme.”

“It was terrifying,”Mom said. “And I can barely even keep track of what’s going on, it’s so fast. I die a little bit every time you race. I wish you’d give itup.”

“Can’t giveup what I love most,” Isaid.

“If only you’ddivert that passion to a nice girl,” she said. “Or boy. We know lots of eligibleomegas.”

“No, thanks,”Isaid.

“You don’t gofor omegas, do you, Arthur?” Pell said. “Whynot?”

“Not true,”Christophe said, coming back into the room with Kota, who was all dressed up in his formal robe. “I remember when we were younger, in pre-academy, there was one. What was hisname?”

Iblinked. “Perichor,”I said, a strange lump rising in my throat. “Perry.”

“Perry. That’s right.”

Vander,Christophe, and Mom then began to argue about the most eligible highborn omegas in Wolfheart. Perry’s name hung in the air like vapor, slowly dissipating after its momentary mention. Now I was recalling memories of Perry Houndfang, or when I knew him, Perry Windhelm. Funny that Perry be mentioned now—it was because of him that I’d discovered my passion for wolf-cycle racing. I’d immersed myself in it to escape the memory of him over a decade ago. I guess it’d worked. I hadn’t thought of him in years. Funny how someone who meant so much could fade to the back of the mind. At one point in my life, he’d been all I wanted to think about. He’d been all Iwanted. But he was gone from my life. Gone from this city. Gone for thirteenyears.

Christophe’s voicepulled me back to reality. “Arthur?”

Ilooked up. “Huh?”

“Iasked,will you be taking the car with us to the ceremony,or…?”

“Oh.No, I’ll take my motorcycle. I’ll be going to the trackafterwards.”

“Well,we’d all better getgoing.”

The wait staffcame in to the dining room and started to clear the tables, and we all made our way towards the garage, where two cars were waiting, drivers standing at attention. Stephen came up and handed me my riding gear. The family piled into the cars, and I got onto my motorcycle and followed the caravan out of the garage. I drove alongside them for a while, waving at my niece and nephew, who made faces at me through the windows of the cars, before gunning the engine and taking off. Our family had access to a special, private highway reserved for highborn clans, and being completely empty of traffic except for our group, it was perfect for gaining some speed on. I roared ahead, zooming down into a subterranean tunnel that traveled directly into downtown Wolfheart. The orange tunnel lights flitted by in an increasing rhythm as I opened the throttle. The engine’s cry rose to a fever pitch, and it felt like I was flying. This was speed—but it was human-limited speed. Later on, I’d climb into my wolf-cycle and get the real fix that I wascraving.

Itookan exit ramp that brought me out of the tunnel and into the city, and I was greeted by the insanity that was downtown Wolfheart. Just what I liked. I pulled off the private road onto the main one that led to the temple, threading around traffic like it was a wolf-cycle obstacle course. The temple appeared out of the concrete jungle like an enormous stone fang, a stark contrast of ancient architecture against modern skyscrapers. The entrance to the temple was flanked by two enormous stone statues of the legendary wolves who founded the city thousands of years ago. I swung my bike between them and entered the parking lot. I was early, ofcourse.

After packing awaymy riding gear and putting on something a bit more formal, I made my way up to the entrance of the temple. The place used to creep me out as a kid. It was dingy and dark inside, lit with candlelight and thick with haze from all the incense being burned. The priests only made it worse—they walked around in half-human, half-wolf form, their gnarled old snouts protruding from beneath the darkened shroud of hoodedcloaks.

Ilooked backover my shoulder when I heard the sound of a car rolling into the lot. I smiled—it was my brother Loch and hisfamily.

“You’re here early,”I said, pulling him into ahug.

“Where’s everyone else?”heasked.

“On their way.I took thebike.”

“Ah, right. Should’ve guessed.”

“Hello, Arthur,”Tresten, his husband said to me, giving me a tight hug. Their ten-year-old son Ian hovered next to Tresten’s side, his nose buried into abook.