Page 59

“You’re out of cream,” she says flatly.

I raise an eyebrow. “People normally say ‘good morning’, Helena. And they don’t normally come in uninvited.”

A ghost of a grin crosses her lips.

“You’re right. Good morning. And it is a good morning. God knows we needed one.”

“I didn’t know witches believed in God.” I smirk.

She tosses a used coffee capsule into the trash and shrugs.

“I do. And even if I didn’t, I might have started believing two days ago.”

Two days ago? Sam was only saved yesterday.

“Why? What happened two days ago?”

“I learned the truth about what happened with Samuel.” She pauses, closing her eyes, pursing her lips and sipping the coffee. She tastes it, nodding in satisfaction. But when she opens them again, a storm is brewing behind her eyes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, moving to the opposite side of the island.

“The shifters have been betrayed. And what I found out… it’s beyond the pale.”

Helena starts another cup of coffee just as heavy footfalls echo down the stairs. Ray appears a moment later, all warmth and gravity—his presence was grounding, welcome, and needed.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, scratching his bare, gloriously hairy chest as he pads into the kitchen.

Helena’s lips tighten. The storm in her eyes rages beneath an otherwise unreadable mask. She hands me the coffee.

“Good morning, Ray,” she acknowledges him. Darting her eyes to me as if to say, ‘See, I can be polite’. She punches the button for another cup. “I assume you remember Adrian Dexter?”

Ray growls, his lips pulling back into a sneer. It takes me a second to place the name—then it clicks.

“Oh,” I gasp. “The Alpha, right? The other wolf pack that moved into the area or something…”

“Yes,” Helena says, but her attention is focused on Ray. She sets the new cup of coffee on the counter for Ray. “The very one.”

“What does that bastard have to do with anything?” Ray asks, grabbing the cup.

“That ‘bastard’ and his pack are the ones behind the attack on Erica and Stacy in New York,” Helena answers.

“No,” I say.

“I’ll kill him,” Ray snarls, slamming the mug down and turning for the door.

“Wait, pup,” Helena says, her voice sharp and commanding.

He freezes mid-stride, glancing back over his shoulder, tension radiating off him in waves. I move to him, sliding an arm around his waist, anchoring him with touch.

“You’re not stopping this, Helena,” Ray snaps angrily.

“Ray, hear her out,” I urge.

His back muscles are coiled tight. I rub a small circle, trying to calm him down. Helena sips her coffee, unperturbed by the angry shifter.

“Hmm. You really need better cream,” she mutters, setting her cup down with a sigh. “It’s worse than you think. You cannot, will not, go charging in like a damn fool.”

“I’m not—” Ray protests but Helena arches an eyebrow, stopping him mid-sentence. “Fine.”