Page 64

STACY

Success.

Ray texts a single word, and it steals my breath. The tension knotting every muscle in my neck and shoulders finally releases. A sob of relief slips from my lips.

I clutch my phone, staring at the tiny glowing screen like it’s a lifeline. He’s safe. They’re all safe. No vampires in alleyways, no ancient horrors hiding in the dark. This time, it was only... humans.

And somehow, fighting humans feels worse. It’s less surreal when the monsters look like us. Regular people. Then again, I’m not exactly one of them either.

Shifters avoid human cities like toxic waste zones—especially sprawling beasts like New York and its suburbs. Too many eyes. Too many secrets waiting to be uncovered. Too much danger wrapped in the illusion of civilization.

The more I think, the more unfinished it feels—like we’re stuck in a game where the other side knows the rules and we don’t. I try to shake off this feeling that I’m waiting on the next bad thing. Tonight shouldn’t be about dread. It’s about breathing, about laughing and forgetting, even if just for a few hours.

We’ve gathered in Erica’s backyard, where the night air feels soft and is thick with the perfume of jasmine trailing over the fence. Stars scatter across the sky like shards of glass. My drink is cool in my hand, and—for once—it doesn’t feel like the world is actively trying to kill us.

The weight Monica and Erica and I have carried is lighter, at least a little. We haven’t had a night like this in what feels like forever—where we’re all smiling, no one is bleeding, no one’s hiding bruises under their clothes, and no one’s halfway to a full-on panic attack.

“I was never worried,” Erica announces, her voice dripping with playful arrogance as she waves her hand through the air, swirling her drink. “I had complete faith in their babysitter.”

I blink. “Their what?”

She grins at me, raising an eyebrow. “Helena. She’s like a wolf-whisperer. Kept them from doing anything too stupid—including your big tree, Mon.”

Monica doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. that waiting-for-the-next-bad-thing feeling spikes, making my stomach clench and causing a cool layer of sweat to bead on my skin.

“Eco Med,” she mutters, eyes locked on her phone like it’s dripping poison and she can’t stop sipping.

Erica frowns. “God, I hate when you do that. If you’re going to sit here scrolling?—”

“Shut up for a second, okay?” Monica snaps, her voice sharp, startling both of us. She holds up her phone. “Eco Med. That’s the pharmaceutical company. The one that owned the building you torched. I knew I’d heard that name before, but I couldn’t remember when or where.”

The name hits something inside me. A dull bell. Faint and far away.

“Yeah,” I say slowly, sipping my drink. “It does sound familiar… something… it’s been years.”

“Because it’s from another life,” Monica says, voice cracking. Her fingers tremble as she lowers the phone to her lap. She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Oh my God…”

Erica leans forward, concern etching her brow. “Mon, what is it?”

Wordlessly, Monica tosses her phone onto the wrought iron patio table between us. The image on it steals the breath from my lungs.

A man I haven’t given a thought to in what feels like ages stares back at us. Next to him stands a stranger in a sleek suit, the two of them smiling like they’ve just cured cancer. The caption reads:

Ivan Peterson & Jack Donahue

I sit up straighter, ice sliding down my spine. “Wait. Jack? Your ex-husband?”

Monica’s voice is flat. Cold. She stares out into the night, not looking at either of us.

“Ivan Peterson runs Eco Med. He and Jack… they go way back,” she says, eyes closing. When she opens them there is the hard edge of absolute certainty in them. “Somehow, Jack found out the truth about shifters.”

Erica raises a hand, palm out like she’s trying to physically stop the flood of information.

“Hold up. Even if Jack knows, Peterson is a billionaire. He wouldn’t bankroll something like this just because his buddy asked. There’s no profit in revenge.”

“Think it through, Erica,” Monica says with a bitter twist of her lips, “Eco Med’s a pharmaceutical empire. Of course there’s profit. Shifter blood is full of unknowns... if they can isolate even one antibody or mutation… it could be a cure, a vaccine, a miracle drug… it would be worth billions.”

“Right,” Erica breathes, processing. “So Jack gets his payback, and Peterson grows his obscene fortune even more. All for the small price of some non-humans.”