Page 17

My magic hasn't settled since that day by Shadow Creek.

It crackles beneath my skin like bottled lightning, making the air thick with static even in my sleep.

The pack house's guest quarters have become a minefield of my own making—shattered mirrors, scorched curtains, furniture that moves on its own when I'm not paying attention.

Even now, a week later, my morning tea trembles in its cup without me touching it.

"You're thinking about him again," Ruby observes from her perch in the window seat. "The sugar bowl just did a little dance."

I force the magic down, though it fights me like a living thing. "I'm thinking about the second trial."

"Mm-hmm." She doesn't look up from the stack of local newspapers spread across her lap. "That's why you keep touching your neck where he—"

"Don't." My magic spikes, making every piece of silverware on the breakfast tray rattle. "We're not talking about that."

About how his hands felt on my skin. About the way, he growled my name against my throat. About how perfectly we still fit together, like those years apart never happened...

The teacup explodes.

Ruby waves away the steam, unfazed. "You know, most people just sigh dramatically when they're pining. They don't redecorate with their feelings."

"I'm not pining." I start picking up pieces of porcelain, needing to do something with my hands. "And I'm not redecorating. My magic's just... unsettled."

"Unsettled." She sets aside the papers, fixing me with that look that says she's about to be annoyingly perceptive.

I pause in my cleanup. “Don’t look at me like that.”

"I’m not looking at you like anything." Ruby pulls another newspaper from her stack. "I just think it’s worth keeping an eye on, witch-girl. Because your magic being 'unsettled' usually means something's coming. Something big."

A faint trace of power ripples through the room as if agreeing with her. The remaining teacups dance along the edge of the tray. The curtains flutter despite the closed windows. Even the air feels charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.

"It's probably just stress," I mutter, but the excuse sounds weak even to me. "The trials, being back here, Nic—"

Oh god, Nic. I can’t bear to even think his name at this point.

A knock interrupts before I can finish. James pokes his head in, looking annoyingly alert for this early hour. Despite the mud on his boots, his ranger uniform is pristine, but something about his expression sets off warning bells in my head.

"Morning, little sister." His casual tone doesn't match the tension in his shoulders. "Mind if I borrow that newspaper when Ruby's done? The one about the attacks up north?"

Ruby and I exchange glances. She shuffles through her stack with deliberate care. "You mean the ones the Council keeps saying are just normal territory disputes?"

"Exactly those." James's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Funny how they keep happening closer to our borders, isn't it?"

My magic surges again, responding to something in his voice. The newspaper trembles in Ruby's hands as she passes it over. I catch a glimpse of the headline— Third Pack Reports Missing Wolves —before James tucks it away.

"Be careful with that," he says, but he's looking at me rather than Ruby. "Some things aren't meant for public discussion. Especially now."

He leaves before I can ask what he means. The door clicks shut with a finality that makes my skin prickle.

"Well, that wasn't ominous at all." Ruby starts gathering the rest of her papers. "Want to bet the Council's emergency meeting this morning has nothing to do with whatever's got your brother so twitchy?"

I frown. "What emergency meeting?"

"The one Victoria called at dawn. Very hush-hush, very urgent." She pauses. "The one your future mate is currently attending instead of brooding outside your door like he has been every morning this week."

Heat creeps into my cheeks. I've been pretending not to notice Nic's daily patrols past my quarters, just like I've been pretending not to feel his eyes on me during meals.

Just like I've been pretending my magic doesn't reach for him every time he's near, like it's trying to complete something I don't understand.

"He's not brooding," I mutter. "He's just... doing his Alpha duties. Checking on the candidate."

"Right. Because all Alphas press their ‘candidates’ against trees and—"

My magic spikes before she can finish, sending the breakfast tray flying. Ruby ducks with practiced ease as pastries sail overhead.

"Okay, okay!" She raises her hands in surrender. "No talking about it. Got it."

I slump into the window seat beside her, watching the pastries finally succumb to gravity.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Ruby. Any of it.

The trials, Nic, this..." I gesture at the chaos my magic has created.

"Something feels wrong. Not just pack politics wrong, but wrong wrong.

And I can't tell if it's real or if I'm just—"

"Paranoid? Stressed? Overthinking everything because the man who broke your heart suddenly can't keep his hands off you?"

"Not helping."

She bumps my shoulder gently. "You've always been good at sensing trouble before it happens. If your magic thinks something's coming, maybe we should listen."

Before I can respond, voices drift up from the courtyard below. The Council meeting must be ending. I press closer to the window, trying to catch snippets of conversation through the ancient glass.

"—can't ignore the pattern anymore—" That's Thomas, his usual composure fractured.

"—not ready for another attack—" Elder Patricia sounds scared, which sends ice down my spine. She's never scared.

"Silence." Victoria's command cracks through the air. "We don't discuss this where—"

The voices fade as they move out of range. Ruby and I share another look.

"Another attack?" she whispers.

My magic coils tight, responding to a threat I can't yet see. The air grows thick with power, making it hard to breathe. Outside, storm clouds gather despite the earlier clear sky.

"Something's coming," I say softly. "I think it might be something bad."

The words feel like prophecy on my tongue. Like truth. Like warning.

***

Later, the pack library smells of leather and secrets, dust motes dancing in shafts of afternoon light.

I trace my fingers along spines that feel older than time itself, my magic reaching out to brush against the residual power that clings to certain volumes.

Some books seem to hum beneath my touch.

Others shy away, their knowledge meant for wolf blood only.

"The second trial traditionally tests pack knowledge," Ruby explains, balanced precariously on a rolling ladder. "History, politics, bloodlines—all the tedious stuff your mother used to complain about."

I pause at a familiar title. Hybrid Theories and Practices, Volume III. The same book Melissa once used to prove I shouldn't be allowed in pack training. "Assuming they haven't changed the rules to make it impossible for me."

"After how you handled the first trial? They'd look ridiculous trying to—" Ruby cuts off as voices approach from the adjacent council room. We both freeze, listening.

"—just like fifteen years ago." Victoria's voice, tight with something that might be fear. "The same patterns, the same signs—"

"We don't know that." Nic's response carries that new edge of Alpha authority that still makes my magic spark. "There's no proof the Cheslem Pack—"

A door slams, cutting off the rest. Ruby and I exchange glances.

"The Cheslem Pack?" she mouths.

I shake my head. The name tickles something in my memory, but it slips away before I can grasp it. My magic stirs uneasily, like it knows something I don't.

We return to our research, but the interrupted conversation hangs heavy in the air. Every creak of ancient floorboards makes me jump. Every shadow seems to hold secrets. The storm that's been threatening all morning finally breaks, rain drumming against leaded glass windows.

"Here." Ruby's voice breaks through my brooding. She holds up a dusty tome. "Previous trial records. Maybe we can—"

The library doors burst open. Nic fills the doorway, power rolling off him in waves that make my magic rise instinctively.

He's still in his council clothes—dark suit emphasizing those shoulders I definitely haven't been thinking about, Alpha ring glinting on his finger.

His wolf eyes flash when they meet mine.

"Luna." My name sounds like sin in his mouth. "A word?"

Ruby gathers her books with suspicious speed. She murmurs, low enough for him not to hear it, “Try not to break any furniture."

She slips out before I can protest, leaving me alone with the one person I've been avoiding all week. Nic stalks closer, all predator grace, and my traitor magic reaches for him like a flower-seeking sun.

"You've been avoiding me." It's not a question.

"I've been preparing for the trial." I resist the urge to back away as he approaches. "Some of us can't rely on pure blood and natural talent."

His lips quirk. "I didn’t know non-wolves were so quick to forget significant events. You have a short memory.”

Heat floods my cheeks. "That was a mistake."

"Was it?" Another step closer. My magic crackles in response, making nearby papers flutter. "Because I remember you being very... enthusiastic about that mistake."

"Stop." But my voice shakes as he invades my space, backing me against the nearest bookshelf. His scent surrounds me—pine and leather and pure male. "We can't do this."

"Do what?" His hands bracket my head, caging me in. “I’m not doing anything.”

"Nic..." Warning or plea, I'm not sure.

Thunder crashes outside, matching the wild surge of my magic. Books tremble on their shelves. The air grows thick with power and possibility and the electric tension that always sparks between us.

His wolf eyes burn as they track down to my lips. The glow in them is intoxicating.

A sudden howl splits the air—three short bursts, the signal for an immediate threat. Nic jerks back like he's been burned. I stay pressed against the bookshelf, heart racing, magic crackling wildly enough to make the lights flicker.

"Border," he growls. The Alpha mask slams back into place, but his wolf still shows in his eyes. "We're not finished here."

He stalks out before I can respond, leaving me breathing hard in the suddenly cold library. My magic whines at his departure, still reaching for something just out of reach. Still sensing danger, I can't quite name.

I turn back to the shelves, trying to focus on trial preparation. But my eyes keep catching on that interrupted conversation. The Cheslem Pack. Fifteen years ago. The same patterns...

"Luna?" Ruby's voice makes me jump. "Everyone's gathering in the great hall. Something about suspicious activity at the borders."

I shove the paper into my pocket, heart pounding. "Coming."

But as I follow her out, my magic surges with certainty—something is very wrong in Silvercreek.