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Her voice is sharp, laced with knowing. It cuts through the air and slices into the brittle shell I’ve wrapped around myself. She reaches to her side and grabs something. A pair of jeans.

“Shift. Get dressed. We need to talk—and I’m not asking.”

I let the wolf fade. It’s hard, not because the transformation resists, but because the weight of being human is unbearable.The emotions rush back in like a flood, washing over the raw skin of my soul. I pick up the jeans and slide them on.

“Predictable, huh?”

She finally turns with one brow raised, like she’s already won the argument we haven’t had yet.

“Indeed. You bury yourself in work, only venturing out when you need supplies. And when you do? It’s always here—alone. Where’s your fire, Raymond? Your instinct? Your heart? Why didn’t you bring Stacy?”

“Stacy’s got her own storm to weather,” I mutter. “Turns out her mother—Catherine—was one of us.”

Helena goes rigid. “What did you say?”

“Yeah,” I say with a sigh, eyes locked on the slow roll of the river. I step onto the slick stones at the edge. “It wasn’t cancer. Her heart broke, and it killed her.”

“Tell me everything,” Helena demands, her voice tight and low. I glance at her, but I don’t ask. I don’t have the energy.

“She met Stacy’s dad in Mercer. They had their fairytale until she caught him cheating. She couldn’t take it.”

“When did you learn this?”

“This morning.”

“Take my hand,” she orders, leaving no room for argument as she holds hers out.

I stare at her empty palm for a moment before placing mine in hers. Her palm radiates heat—almost too much. The moment her fingers tighten around mine, her staff strikes the earth.

Light erupts from the staff—brilliant, blinding. It devours everything until nothing remains but white noise and the echo of memory. Then?—

Voices.

I hear them before I can see. Echoes that thread through the brightness. Then it’s like a curtain parting as my vision returns. We’re in front of Sammy’s cabin. Helena pulls me after her, storming up the steps and entering without bothering to knock.

The first thing I see is a photo of Sammy and Erica on the far wall. The laughter in his eyes mocks me. Daring me to admit he’s gone. Erica sits on the couch, jerking her head up at our entrance.

Her cheeks are stained with tears and Monica is at her side, one comforting arm around her shoulders. Raul’s voice breaks through the haze. He’s already moving toward us from the kitchen.

“I was just about to find you,” Raul says. “Monica says Stacy’s mom was a shifter. That true?”

“You already know it,” I say with a tired shrug.

“Do you agree?” Raul asks, looking to Helena and she shrugs.

“It makes sense. The attack on Erica and Stacy was wolf shifters. It had to be a shifter that killed Sammy, too. No human or regular animal could have taken him. Or do that kind of damage,” Raul says, shaking his head.

“Butwhy?” I ask. “We’ve never hurt anyone from Mercer.”

“Maybe we’re paying for sins that aren’t ours,” Raul mutters, voice heavy with something deeper—regret, maybe. “I’ve beenreading Grandpa’s journals. Some shifters left the settlements to live with humans a generation back. They were branded as traitors. I’d hazard a guess that Catherine was one of them.”

I clench my fists. “Okay… let’s say you’re right. What now?”

“Then we go to war,” Raul growls. “They killed Sammy. They don’t walk away from that.”

“No,” Helena snaps, stepping between us. Her eyes burn brighter, deeper. “We don’t knowwhoorwhy. Not for certain. You can’t charge into Mercer like rabid animals. They’re two hundred miles away. By the time you get there, you’ll be too drained to fight. We need proof. Motive. A name.”

“So what? We just sit here and wait?” My voice rises—grief finally splitting open into fury.