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Emily turns in my arms, and I subconsciously draw her even closer.

I’ve been half awake since first light, unable to quell the racing thoughts in my mind?did our defenses hold overnight?

Are the new runes still as effective? Will my phone ring with another Malik attack?

But Emily’s calming presence in my arms has offered me some peace, at least. If it weren’t for her perfectly soft frame pressed against my own, I’d have been up a couple of hours ago.

I’d have gone running or hit the gym to try and rid my mind of Malik.

As it is, I run my hand down her bare side, marveling at the softness of her skin under my calloused fingers. She really is perfect, I think, aware that if I push aside the fact that she’s a witch, not a shifter, I cannot deny her perfection.

My wolf doesn’t even bother to deny it, which always strikes me as odd, as surely he should be more drawn to a fellow shifter.

Ralph always said that a shifter would never want a witch unless she had bewitched him.

The thought makes me uncomfortable, and as much as I try to shrug it off, I can’t deny that my desire for her borders on need. It certainly feels bewitching at times.

It feels so at odds to be content in the middle of this war with Malik and his rogues.

Ralph may have been a mean old bastard, but he kept the island in check.

A familiar feeling gnaws at my core as I wonder what he’d make of his sons’ efforts so far.

He was always so critical of us, and yet he split the island into three, making us all alphas, which surprised me, as I was sure he’d insist we battle it out.

He always said he’d sooner see us dead than weak.

I’m sure he’d have rather seen me dead than lying in bed with a witch. But looking down at her pink lips, a tangle of soft auburn curls fanned around her, and full breasts pressed against me, I know I wouldn’t change it—bewitchment or not.

Her brow furrows in her sleep, and although I’m a needy bastard who’s itching to take her again and again, especially when she’s naked and warm like this against me, I know how hard she’s been working on those texts Ava brought over last week, studying until all hours. She probably needs this lie-in.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I curse under my breath, knowing the moment of peace is over.

Emily stirs in my arms, her eyes fluttering open as she looks up at me with her emerald eyes.

"Wha—" she mumbles sleepily before seeming to realize exactly where she is and who is holding her.

A blush of crimson creeps into her cheeks as she tries to sit up, tugging the sheets to her chest. "I’ve slept in," she mutters, looking away from me.

I squeeze her arm reassuringly. "It's fine, Emily. It's just...Aiden," I say, glancing at the caller ID. I reluctantly release her warmth and answer my phone, already dreading the reason Aiden would call this early.

"Yep," I gruffly answer, my voice still gravelly with sleep.

"Sorry to wake you, bro," Aiden says without preamble. My wolf stiffens in readiness for what he’s going to say. It never seems to be good news these days. "I thought you’d want to know…we captured a group of Malik's men last night between our borders."

Now, that is unexpected and promising. Malik’s men are rarely caught alive, and we’ve only been able to question a handful who didn’t know anything.

“That is good news,” I tell him, climbing from my bed and reaching for my pants. “Mind if I sit in?” I ask, knowing better than to step on another alpha’s toes, even if he is my brother.

Aiden chuckles over the phone. “Figured you’d want to. I’ve put a call into Callum, too,” he tells me. “We all need a break in this.”

“Damn right, we do,” I mutter, turning to see Emily has already slipped from the bed and is in the en-suite.

As I hang up with Aiden, having agreed on a location, I pause, almost driven with pure need to slip into the shower with Emily.

Shaking my head, I know I need to focus on getting to Aiden’s territory as quickly as possible.

He’s done me the courtesy of extending an invite to the interrogations, but he’s not going to wait for me to arrive.

Just as I’m about to knock and tell Emily I’m heading out, the en-suite door swings open. I’m immediately struck by how pale she looks—almost nauseous. I reach my hand out to steady her.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask. My wolf is immediately on alert with concern, which just annoys me for some reason.

“Yeah, I just feel a bit off,” she says wearily. “I read those books all day yesterday, for hours. I had a headache by the time I was done; I think it’s just that.”

It occurs to me that I have no idea if witches really get sick. Even our pack medic only deals with shifters. “Er, maybe you should get checked out. You’re seeing some of your sisters later? Your healer will be there?”

She nods. “Yeah, she is coming in to treat some of the rogue witches that have sought sanctuary. I’ll ask her,” she says, rubbing her eyes.

I lean forward to kiss her forehead; it’s almost instinctive, and I freeze for a moment, realizing that what began as purely sexual has morphed into something much more intimate.

When I pull away, her usually guarded expression looks softer and more open, and her cheeks are flushed despite her paleness. I wonder if she’s thinking it, too.

The drive over to Aiden’s territory doesn’t take long, and I’m grateful to have picked up Ryan on the way; his inane banter distracts me from thinking about Emily for a while.

I make a mental note to ask our medic about the need for someone with experience in treating non-shifters.

I’m sure Emily is fine, but it made me realize there’s no one for a non-shifter to turn to in the town.

I may not like or trust the witches, but I’m still the alpha, which means taking care of everyone.

By the time we reach the cabin Aiden uses as a makeshift holding cell for the rogues, the interrogation is obviously underway, given the screams radiating throughout the clearing.

I have no more sympathy left to give these rogues.

They’ve aligned themselves with Malik and killed so many good wolves.

And witches, I guess. If I could ever have been accused of being too soft on them when they were the misfits living on the edge of our packs, causing low-level problems, that sympathy is long gone.

Now, I just want answers and an end to Malik. We all do.

As we enter the old cabin, Aiden glances up from the bloodied rogue he’s questioning.

Callum obviously arrived earlier and is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a tense scowl on his face as he watches the proceedings.

His beta stands next to him, looking as grim as he always does.

The three of us have always been close, even before we became alphas.

Now, we’re bound by duty and shared loss more than ever.

“What have we got?” I ask, not sugar-coating it. I’m here for answers, not small talk.

Aiden straightens up, wiping his bloody hands on a rag nearby. “They’re tough bastards,” he admits, jerking his head toward the unconscious rogue on the floor. “This one won’t break easy.”

Callum pushes off the wall and cracks his knuckles. “I haven’t had a challenge in a while,” he smirks coldly.

The next few hours are a blur of interrogations that prove more useful as the day wears on—the rogues, obviously hearing the desperate pleas for mercy of the ones who go before and receive none, are more inclined to crack.

By the time the afternoon is done, we’ve garnered a lot of useful information about the rogue's hideouts, how they’ve avoided capture, and their use of imprisoned witches who give them cloaking spells—but thankfully, can’t overrule the runes we’re currently using.

It won’t take them much longer, though. Annoyingly, none appear to know where Malik came from or where he’s living.

At first, I didn’t believe them, but after we enhanced our interrogation tactics, it’s clear they’d have broken if they knew anything.

Still, we’ve ended the day with a decent amount of new knowledge, which is something given how much Malik exists in a shroud of mystery.

We offer to help Aiden’s pack to clean up, but he shoos us off, saying he’d never expect guests to tidy up after a party; taking in the blood-stained cabin as Ryan and I walk out, I mutter, “Hell of a party.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ryan laughs. “I wouldn’t want to be cleaning that up. Better to just torch the cabin and be done with it.”

“I think Aiden’s going to leave it standing as a warning; it’s right on the border, so the rogues will find it, and their men, eventually,” I say.

“Grim but effective,” Ryan mutters as we get in my truck. “Now, let’s get you back to your witch, though you might want to shower first.”

He indicates to my hands, and I look down, noting I’ve done a poor job of wiping the rogue’s blood from my hands. I wipe them on my pants with a grimace. “Very funny, just drive.”

I don’t argue, though; part of me is looking forward to getting back to her and sharing what we’ve learned today, but not the methods we used to get the information.

I realize that I don’t want her to see that side of me.

I don’t want her to think badly of me. That thought alone throws me off; I shouldn’t care.

I think differently about her because she’s not a shifter; a shifter female would welcome my display of strength.

Part of me wonders what a witch would think.

Not that they aren’t vicious in their own way.

I drop Ryan off at the center in high spirits, flipping him the bird as he makes kissing noises through the window.

I can’t help but crack a smile and drive back to the cabin feeling lighter than I have in a while.

It wasn’t all good news with the rogues, and I wish we’d got a better lead on Malik, but some of the information was good.

I know Emily will want to coordinate with the witches on some of it.

Better she does it; Marian scares the life out of everyone else.

The door is unlocked, so I know Emily’s here, but the house is quiet when I enter.

I follow her scent through the kitchen, pausing to wash my hands thoroughly and trace her to the back porch.

She has her back to me, and it makes me chuckle when I consider how much easier it is to sneak up on a witch.

A female shifter would have sensed me a mile off; there’s no element of surprise.

But Emily remains blissfully unaware as I watch from behind the screen.

She’s completely absorbed in her phone conversation, pacing up and down the deck; the movement causes her dress to sway around her evocatively, and I pause momentarily, admiring her form and considering how much my hands itch to reach out and touch her.

I’m about to clear my throat and get her attention when I hear something that stops me cold. “I-I don’t understand,” she says, the tremble in her voice clear. “Are you absolutely sure I’m pregnant? Could it be a mistake?”

Pregnant.

My whole world tilts, and I don’t really take in what she says next.

She appears to be ending the call, though.

I completely shove down my wolf, who is desperate to go to her, while the man in me rages.

She knew this morning—she had to have at least suspected.

And then it hits me; this is what she wanted all along.

She’s now luna and carrying my child, cementing her position and the witches within our pack.

She turns and sees me standing there; undeniable guilt flashes across her face. “Tristen,” she murmurs, “I didn’t know you were back.”

She’s not even going to tell me?

“Nothing you want to tell me?” I snap, and her head drops.

She sighs and leans back on the patio wall, “I take it you heard?” she says, gesturing to the phone in her hand. “I couldn’t see the healer earlier, but I left a blood sample. She just called, and—”

“And what?” I cut her off. “You just found out your plan has worked?”

Her eyes immediately fly to mine, and I see the fire ignite in her gaze. “My plan,” she repeats, slow and deliberate. “Are you out of your fucking mind? There is no plan.”

If I harbor any doubts, I push them away as I double down. “Get pregnant and what? The witches become central to the pack. Was this Marian’s plan? Bewitch me a—”

“You’re an idiot,” she says, interrupting me and storming toward the patio door. “I never bewitched you. I can work runes, but not spells. You must realize that by now. You got me pregnant, Tristen, stop acting like I did something to you.”

She storms through the house toward the front door.

“Where are you going?” I demand.

“Away from you,” she snaps, grabbing her purse.

Suddenly, I panic. What if she leaves the town? There are rogue sightings daily now on the trails. “Wait,” I call out, and she turns, her hand on the door. “Stay in the town; it’s not safe.”

“Sure thing, Alpha,” she replies, slamming the door.

The house falls into complete silence apart from the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my head. Pregnant. I’m going to be a father. My child will be a witch-shifter hybrid. I don’t know what to think. But one thing is for certain: nothing can happen to Emily.

I pull out my phone and message Ryan, telling him to trail Emily without her seeing, make sure she stays in the town, and, for goddess's sake, don’t ask me any questions.

He seems to read the room for once and simply replies with a thumbs-up.

I sink into a chair, the weight of everything hitting me like a truck.

Pregnant.