Page 7

The moment Emin walks out of the room, I feel my nervous system start to calm. Sarina is at my side, he’s not here, confusing my body, and now I can focus on the two people in front of me.

Dorian Fields. The last time I saw him, he was a teenager, prepping to take over his grandfather’s role. I’d heard, distantly, that the old man died, and Dorian took over, but it’s different seeing it in real time. The man that he’s grown into.

The improbable woman at his side—the fact that she was, somehow, able to forgive him for everything she put him through. I can still remember the sound of his voice carrying down the hallway, the fact that Emin followed Dorian’s lead, teasing his own sister in front of everyone else.

“Veva,” Kira says, glancing at Dorian and stepping toward me. “We know you’ve been through a lot, so just tell us if this is too much, okay? We can come back later.”

“Sarina and I will be leaving as soon as we can,” I say, sitting up and trying to ignore the pain in my body.

“The healers said it’s going to take a while for you to get better,” Dorian says, keeping his distance from me, but holding my gaze. I have to admit—it’s putting me at ease. The way he’s speaking to me as an equal.

As an alpha, and especially as an alpha leader, he could compel me to do what he wanted. Even with all the casting I’ve done on myself, and my powers, my biology would make me obey.

But he’s not doing that. He’s talking to me like I’m a person.

“At least a few weeks for your sense of smell to heal,” Dorian says, his voice low.

I can feel Sarina stiffening with worry beside me, and I give her a quick one-two tap on her back.

Our secret little signal— everything is okay .

“You’re a smart woman, Veva. You know it’s not smart for you to leave like this.

I think we can help each other out, here. ”

I suck in a breath, considering. “Okay. I’ll listen.”

“Kira said you cast a pretty strong spell in here, on her,” Dorian nods to Sarina, who sits quietly, but pushes her hair behind her ears.

“We’re working on a…project. And we could use that kind of power to help us finish it up.

So here’s my proposal: you and Sarina stay while you heal up, and we compensate you for your work on the project.

In a few weeks, you’re feeling good enough to leave, we have the results we want, and you have a little extra coin. Everyone wins.”

For some reason, I think of Emin. Not everyone wins.

I blink hard and try to shake the thought from my head—there is no reason for me to be thinking of him.

Our connection is already getting in my head, and I can’t have that.

Half of me knows it’s important for Sarina and me to leave as soon as possible, but the other part of me understands that I won’t be able to protect us like this.

Not without my sense of smell. Not battered, bruised, and exhausted like I am.

Not without the money stored under my mattress, back near Grayhide territory.

Sarina taps me—one-two, one-two. She thinks we should do it, wants us to stay. I shift, look into her eyes, and it only takes two seconds for me to see what’s going on in that head of hers.

She’s scared after what happened at the market. Doesn’t understand why it happened. We haven’t even had a chance to talk about her premonition—for me to explain what it means. Some downtime—a little space to be in one place—might be good for us.

A few seconds after his proposal, I ask, “What is the project? I’m not using my abilities to hurt anyone.”

“Of course not,” Dorian says, not even sounding offended. “Our pack has changed a lot, Veva. You’ll understand that I won’t want to share the details of the project until you agree to stay, but I promise it’s not harmful to anyone.”

“I’ll second that,” Kira says, setting her hand on the blanket again, her serious eyes landing on mine. “I wouldn’t stand by and let something like that happen.”

Out of everything, it’s Kira’s presence that puts me more at ease. She doesn’t seem like a prisoner—she called Dorian, after all. Asked him here. Seems like she’s at his side by choice, and not out of obligation. When she glances at him, it’s with an admiration that makes my stomach twist.

Sarina taps me again. One-two, one-two.

“Okay,” I say, then hold a hand up. “But I have a few conditions. And requests.”

Dorian crosses his arms, glances at his wife, then says, “Name them.”

***

The sun is setting by the time Sarina and I leave the building, and I realize it’s the pack hall, the healing center tucked in the back corner.

Kira walks ahead of us, chatting about getting us clothes and things, but a flash of color startles me, so I grab Sarina and pull her to my side, hand already rising to cast.

Not that I have any energy left in me for magic, but the assailant hopefully doesn’t know that.

“Veva,” the woman says, walking so quickly she’s out of breath when she stops in front of me. Her eyes skip rapidly from my hand, to my face, to Sarina tucked away behind me, then back to my face, scanning it like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Veva .”

The word slips out of me before I can reconsider it, before I can look for another word to use when addressing her. “Mom?”

A sob rips out of her chest, and she takes a step toward me, holding her arms up. Kira stands to the side, watching the interaction play out, and I glance to her—for reassurance? For information?—before taking an instinctual step away from my mother, who doesn’t seem like my mother at all.

My mother can’t usually say my name without slurring it, can’t walk in a straight line. Her clothes are never wrinkle free, her hair is not combed like this. And her eyes—brown like mine—are never as clear as they are right now.

She stops, tucking her arms to her side, and is surprisingly not offended by the way I’ve moved away from her.

“Sorry,” she says, taking a breath and pushing her short gray hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, Veva—it’s just that—I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

“What do you want?” I ask, heart picking up, mind already racing. She’s seen Sarina—knows about her. For some reason, I can’t stop thinking that it’s my job to make sure my mother doesn’t hurt my daughter.

Although my mom never raised a hand to me, she found plenty of other ways to scar me for life. And I’ll die before I let my daughter go through the same thing, no matter how happy my mother looks to see me.

“I deserve that,” Mom says, running her hands over her hair again and nodding. “I know I’ve hurt you, Veva. I want you to know that I’m sober. I have been since you disappeared.”

A breath rushes out of me, evacuating my body without my consent. My mother is sober. And, from the sound of it, me leaving actually affected her. She actually realized I was gone.

“Okay,” I say, dumbly, because I can’t think of any other words.

“I-I would love to talk to you,” she continues, eyes flicking to Kira, who is now looking away, like averting her gaze can give us more privacy.

“Make amends. I know I don’t deserve that, Veva, but it’s just so good to see you.

I heard—someone said they saw a girl who looked like you, and I—it would mean a lot to me. If we could have a conversation.”

I open my mouth, but I can’t get anything out.

Kira finally speaks. “Mrs. Marone? Veva has been through a lot. Maybe the two of you could talk this through later?”

The luna looks between the two of us, face soft and understanding, the look in her eye telling me that with one word from me, she’ll shut this thing down. Tell my mother that I want nothing to do with her.

But, for some reason, I don’t feel as cold toward her as I used to.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a mother now, or maybe it’s being near her, seeing the strange sight of my her, sober.

She seems like a different woman than the one that told me to fend for myself and regularly let the energy bill lapse, so I shivered under many blankets in the cold, barren nights, alone in my room.

“Maybe,” I finally manage to get out, my grip on Sarina firm.

That, somehow, seems to be enough for my mother, who nods, and manages to walk away. As Kira continues leading us to her car, I choke out a weird, muffled, “Sorry.” I’m not sure what it’s for—my mother? Me? But Kira just laughs as she unlocks the car and gestures for us to get in.

“Trust me,” she says, sliding into the driver’s seat and glancing over at me as I climb into the passenger’s. “I know a thing or two about having a strained relationship with your mom.”