Page 5

I’ve faced down Malcolm’s tantrums, Wiley’s sadistic games, and more than one magical disaster of my own making. But nothing—and I mean nothing —could’ve prepared me for the gut-wrenching anxiety clawing at me as we pull into Red Arrow territory.

The forest blurs past the window in a mix of greens and browns that would almost be peaceful if I weren’t busy trying not to hyperventilate. My stomach feels like it’s been tied in a dozen different knots, and every mile closer to the packhouse is another weight pressing down on my chest.

I force myself to keep my eyes on the horizon, pretending I’m not hyper-aware of Gray sitting in the driver’s seat. His hands are steady on the wheel, his jaw set like he’s got the whole world figured out. I hate that about him—how he can be so calm while I’m sitting here one wrong thought away from losing it.

“Stop popping your knuckles,” he says suddenly, interrupting the silence.

I blink, glancing down at my hands. Sure enough, I’m tugging on each finger without realizing it. I relax them with an annoyed huff. “Maybe don’t stare at me while you’re driving.”

The tiniest twitch takes at the corner of his mouth. “Hard not to notice when you look like you’re about to bolt.”

“I’m not running. Not that I could, now that you’ve put the child locks on the damn door.”

“Safety precaution. It’ll stay that way now that I know you have a habit of jumping out of running vehicles.”

I glare at him, but it’s not like he’s wrong. After a moment, I turn back to the window, wishing I could focus on anything but the twisting pit in my stomach.

“Relax,” Gray says after a beat. “You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, really?” I shoot back, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “And what makes you think that, Alpha? Did the same pack that treated me like a freak suddenly become witch-friendly while I was gone?”

His hands tighten on the wheel just enough for me to notice, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. “Things are different now,” he says simply.

“Sure they are,” I mutter. “And I’m the queen of shifter diplomacy.”

The truth is, I don’t believe him. Not for a second. Sure, I’ve heard of some of the packs around bringing witches on board, but I can’t imagine Red Arrow being so progressive. I remember the way they used to look at me. Like every mistake I made confirmed their worst fears about witches. And even if Gray’s little rescue mission changed something for him, it’s not going to change the way the rest of them see me.

The truck slows as we pull onto the gravel drive leading to the packhouse. It’s a massive wooden structure nestled deep in the heart of the forest. The building looks almost like it’s part of the landscape, with the way its dark wood exterior blends seamlessly with the towering pine trees that surround it. The roof is steep and shingled, and though it bears the scars of harsh winters and time, the structure still seems as solid as ever.

My heart thuds harder with every bump in the uneven road. The dense forest presses in on either side, and the canopy above filters the sunlight into shifting patches of gold and shadow. It’s a beautiful, secluded spot, but instead of feeling serene, it feels like a cage waiting to close in around me.

By the time Gray parks near the front steps, I’m gripping the door handle like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. He has to come around to let me out, and once I hop to the ground, the familiar scents hit me all at once. After all the time I spent in this place, it should feel like home. But it doesn’t.

The packhouse looms ahead, bigger than I remember. The last time I stood here, I was being shoved out the door with nothing but the clothes on my back and the sound of my own heart breaking.

“Come on,” Gray says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “They’re expecting us.”

“Great,” I grumble. “I’m sure it’ll be a warm welcome.”

He doesn’t respond, just starts walking toward the house with that infuriating confidence of his. I follow, forcing myself to keep my head up despite the knot in my throat. If they’re going to stare, I’ll give them something to stare at.

But to my surprise, the packhouse isn’t teeming with people like I expected. Instead, Gray leads me through a side entrance and down a quiet hallway, and there isn’t a shifter in sight.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around.

“Waiting,” he tells me without looking back.

“For what?”

“You’ll see.”

His cryptic answer does nothing to calm my nerves. By the time we stop in front of a set of double doors I remember leads to a hall we used for important ceremonies, my pulse is pounding in my ears. Inside, it’s decorated simple but elegant, with rows of empty chairs and a table at the front draped in white.

A middle-aged man I recognize as our old healer is wearing a neat suit as he stands by the ceremonial altar, flipping through a stack of papers that rest on top. He looks up as we enter, not even looking surprised to see me.

“Alpha,” the man says with a nod. “Everything is ready.”

“Good,” Gray replies. He turns to me and extends a hand, which I don’t take. “Come on.”

I hesitate, keeping my feet rooted to the floor as unease snakes through me. “What is this?”

“You’re getting married,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

My brain stutters. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His tone is calm, but there’s a firmness beneath it that leaves no room for argument. “We’re getting married. Now.”

The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. “You’ve lost your damn mind,” I manage, taking a step back. “There’s no way—”

“You don’t have a choice. You’re safer here as my mate than as a witch on her own. Plus, this way, not a single wolf in this pack will so much as question your return.”

My stomach twists at the mention of the rest of the pack, but it’s not enough to drown out my fury. “So this is your big plan?” I hiss. “Drag me back here and slap a ring on me like that fixes anything?”

“It’s not about fixing,” he says evenly. “It’s about protecting you. And protecting the pack.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, stepping closer. “But this is happening. Now, are you going to stand here and argue, or are you going to let me help you for once?”

I glare at him. Every muscle in my body is screaming to fight, to run, to do anything but go along with this. But I can see it in his eyes—he’s not budging. And deep down, I know he’s right. I hate him for it, but I know. Besides, it’s not like I have any other choice. Even if I managed to run away, I wouldn’t get far. Between the shifters and Malcolm, my life will never be my own.

“Fine,” I bite out, but the word is sour on my tongue. “Let’s get this over with.”

The ceremony is short, efficient, and devoid of anything resembling romance. The healer recites the necessary words while Gray stands beside me, solid and unmoving. I barely hear him. My mind is a mess of anger, fear, and grief for the life I’ll never get to live all because of who and what I am.

When it’s over, the officiant hands Gray a document, which he signs with a flourish before passing it to me. I take the pen with shaking fingers, and my chest tightens as I scrawl my name at the bottom.

“Congratulations,” the man says, his voice polite but hollow. “You’re officially mated.”

I don’t feel congratulations are in order.

Gray doesn’t give me time to ask questions as he leads me through the packhouse. I trail behind him, feeling like a piece of debris caught in a current. The corridors are both familiar and alien, like they belong to a life I’ve long since left behind. Everything smells sharper, cleaner, like the air here has somehow managed to scrub away the stains of the past.

We pass a few pack members in the hall, and they nod at Gray with a respect that borders on reverence. None of them look at me like I’m an outsider. Not yet, anyway. I keep my head down, waiting for the first glare, the first whispered insult. But it never comes.

When we step into the banquet hall, it’s alive with light, laughter, and the smell of roasted meat that makes my stomach churn, though not from hunger. I stand in the entryway, trying to process what I’m seeing: dozens of shifters gathered around long tables, eating, drinking, and chatting like this is some kind of celebration.

What the hell are they celebrating?

I’m still trying to figure that out when Gray gently nudges me forward. The sound of the door clicking shut behind us draws every eye in the room. For a moment, the hall goes silent, and I feel the weight of their stares pressing down on me like a boulder.

And then it happens: they smile.

“Jaslyn!” someone calls from one of the tables. A young man with sandy brown hair and an easy grin waves me over like we’re old friends. “Welcome home!”

Home? Did he hit his head?

I glance at Gray, who’s watching the scene unfold with his usual calm. He gives me a slight nod as if to say, This is fine. Everything is fine .

But it’s not fine. None of this is fine. These people used to avoid me like I was contagious, and now they’re acting like I’m some kind of long-lost hero.

“You’re finally here!” A tall woman with auburn hair stands from her seat, and her smile is so wide, it looks painful. “We’ve been waiting for you. You’re going to be a game-changer for the pack.”

Game-changer? I feel like I’ve stepped into some kind of alternate reality.

“I—” My voice comes out weak, and I swallow hard, trying again. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

The woman laughs, a light, airy sound that grates on my nerves. “Not a chance. You’re Jaslyn Kismet, right? The witch who’s going to save us all?”

Save them?

My stomach twists violently, and I take a step back, bumping into Gray. He steadies me with a firm hand on my shoulder, but it doesn’t do much to calm the rising panic.

Before I can say anything else, a familiar voice draws my attention. “Jaslyn?”

I turn and nearly lose my balance when I see Theo standing near the head of the main table. His dark hair is shorter than I remember, his frame broader, but it’s unmistakably him. The last time I saw him, he was just another pack member. One of the kinder ones, I’ll give him that. Now, he’s wearing a beta’s insignia on his jacket.

“You’re beta now?” I blurt before I can stop myself.

Theo grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s been ten years. A lot’s changed.”

No kidding.

“I can’t believe it,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You, a beta. What happened? Did you lose a bet?”

Laughter ripples through the room, and Theo chuckles. “Still sharp, I see. Good. You’ll need that.”

From somewhere behind me, someone pipes up, “At least we finally got a beta people actually like.”

A few more snickers follow, and Theo’s grin widens as a touch of color creeps into his cheeks. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t hard to improve on Carter’s example. I figure not being an arrogant jerk gave me a head start.”

I blink, caught off guard, as statements of agreement spread through the crowd. It’s strange, hearing them speak so openly about Carter—especially in a way that suggests they were just as relieved as I was to see him gone.

I don’t have time to unpack that before another voice cuts in, one I recognize immediately and wish I didn’t.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

I whip around to find Madison standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her lips curled into a familiar smirk. The sight of her sends a cold shiver down my spine. She hasn’t changed much—still tall, still striking, still oozing arrogance. But there’s something different in her tone, something almost… friendly? No, that can’t be right.

“You look good,” Madison comments, and for a second, I think I’ve imagined it. But no, there it is—a compliment. From Madison. The same Madison who once told me I’d never amount to anything.

“Thanks,” I manage, though my voice sounds strained even to my own ears.

“It’s good to have you back,” she adds, and her smile softens into something that looks suspiciously like sincerity. “We’ve all been looking forward to this.”

I blink, utterly baffled. Is this some kind of elaborate prank? Did Gray pay them to act like this? Because there’s no way these people are genuinely happy to see me. Not after the way they treated me before.

The noise of the room swells again as people return to their conversations, and I seize the opportunity to step closer to Gray. “What the hell is going on?” I hiss, keeping my voice low.

He tilts his head and responds, “They’re welcoming you.”

“Welcoming me?” I repeat, incredulous. “They used to hate me.”

“Things change,” he says simply, but the look in his eyes tells me there’s more to it than that.

Before I can press him further, someone clinks a glass, and the room quiets. A man at the far end of the table stands, raising his glass in my direction.

“To Jaslyn,” he says, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. “Our savior.”

The word bounces around the room, and my breath catches. The room erupts into cheers and applause, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. Savior ? These people are calling me their savior? What the hell have I done to earn that title?

My magic stirs uneasily beneath my skin, a low hint of energy that matches the rising panic in my chest. I try to shove it down, to keep it buried where it belongs, but the weight of their eyes, their expectations, is too much.

It happens before I can stop it.

The hint ignites into a spark, and the spark becomes a flash of light that crackles across my hands. Gasps ripple through the room as the air grows heavy with static. Plates rattle, and the flames on the candles flicker wildly. Someone whispers my name, half in awe, half in fear.

I shove my hands behind my back, clenching them into fists to smother the energy, but the damage is done. The room is silent again, but their stares are even heavier now.

“Jaslyn,” Gray says softly, stepping closer. There’s no judgment in his voice, but I can’t bear to look at him.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper with a trembling voice. “I can’t—” I break off, swallowing hard as the tears threaten to spill. “Please, Gray. Get me out of here. Now.”

I don’t wait for his response. I can’t. My heart is pounding, my magic is teetering on the edge of control, and all I can think about is getting out of this room before I break something—or someone.