T hankfully, Reid’s wounds healed faster than expected with the best medics in the world available at the Alpha Summit. But that means Reid and Noah have been strategizing all morning, sparring in a secluded, nearby field, preparing Noah to face off against Viktor tonight. They’re startlingly aggressive with each other, pausing only if the other bleeds a bit too much—which, unfortunately for my reeling head, has already happened twice.

My wolf is having none of it, her tail twitching in a last attempt to keep from snapping at her mate. Logically, I’m aware Noah’s PTSD is still at its peak, heightening his upset around aggressive Alphas, but it doesn’t stop his agitation from riling me up too.

It’s time to step away from this nonsense, Little Wolf. With a hand on our baby, I walk away from my mate at the edge of the field, settling myself onto a nearby boulder—my back to their snarls.

Even from back here, my stomach won’t stop flipping. Vivid images of every horrible thing that could happen spill across my mind.

What if my stress makes Noah and Viktor actually hurt each other during the battle?

The second I create an opening, darkness floods my mind.

Good point! What if Viktor goes on a rampage? Or what if Noah does? He could turn around and lash out at you right now!

I flinch at the thought, picturing Noah scarring my arm—just like I scarred his.

Gritting my teeth, I struggle to keep my focus on the present. How could I even think something like that? Noah wouldn't hurt me.

Or, what if you go on a rampage, and you accidentally kill every wolf here before you realize what you’re doing?

What? That makes no sense. I'd never do that.

You’re right! I meant Noah. What if Noah kills Viktor by mistake and your lives are over? Your pup will grow up fatherless!

I suddenly recognize my thought pattern, snapping me out of my head.

Dammit. My intrusive thoughts are out of control, and I’m feeding into them way too far. That must be why I feel this familiar vague, never-ending urgency that something horrible is about to happen.

I take a deep breath, focusing on what’s actually happening in front of me: maybe Noah will get hurt tonight, or maybe he’ll make sure he’s safe for our future pup, like he promised. I can’t control him. That's all I know.

My stomach settles just enough for me to sit without feeling worried about getting sick.

Then my phone chimes in my jacket pocket. It’s so unfamiliar these days that it startles me.

Everyone important to me is in our pack, so they’ll just mindlink me instead of texting or calling. What if it’s urgent?

No, wait. Is that another intrusive thought? I need to focus on the present moment.

I try to focus on the soothing breeze ruffling my hair, but the feeling gets worse and worse as my phone chimes again. Then again.

Okay, fine. I’m giving in and looking.

But when I check my notifications, my heart rate spikes so high that I struggle to breathe.

My panic is strong enough to whip Noah's attention off his practice battle. Shifting back into his human form, he takes swift, determined strides toward me, calling out. “What?! What’s wrong?”

His golden eyes are so vivid that they nearly glow. Reid shifts back after Noah, his brows furrowed at Noah’s heightening alarm.

All I can do is stare at my phone, blinking over and over again as if it’ll make the notification disappear.

When I open the notification, I find a direct message from a new social media follower I've never seen before. But the username “stbarrett92” leaves little doubt in my mind of who it is.

Steven.

Noah stoops to my eye level, gripping my shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong, Luna.”

I shake my head, unable to speak as my eyes trace Steven’s messages, again and again.

stbarrett92: Hey, I know I’m not supposed to contact you but I thought you should know something I heard

stbarrett92: I was at the bar last night and another hunter was bragging to my buddy

stbarrett92: This old dude was fucked up and said he accidentally shot someone 5 years ago and got away with it.

stbarrett92: Do you think it could be your dad?

I drop my phone, scrambling away from it like a poison. It lays face up on the forest floor between me and my wide-eyed mate. His severe focus hardly allows me to catch my breath; I don’t want to have to witness his crushed reaction when reading these messages too.

Noah picks it up, and my heart drops as he reads the message. Then he reads it again. And again.

Until I let out a sob.

When Noah’s eyes flip up to mine, there’s a split second where pure bloodlust hazes his eyes over.

Then he melts for me, his forehead warping in agony. “Luna... My poor Luna.”

Noah tugs me tight against his chest, whining over me.

But it doesn't help. With all the chaos of tonight’s battle, every scent, sound, and touch clutters my mind.

“Please, take me back to our room,” I rasp.

Glancing at Reid, Noah hoists me to my feet. “Thank you for the warm-up.”

“Don’t thank me. Go,” Reid says. “You still have an hour and a half. I’ll come get you if it’s getting late.”

My stomach jolts, pushing a panicked whimper from my lips. How can anything in the world feel okay enough for Noah to fight for our lives in an hour and a half, let alone for us to function as a potential King and Queen? We dart back to our room, not a single word more shared between us as dread seeps through every inch of our bond.

Once we’re locked behind our door, my knees wobble. Noah hurriedly guides me to my makeshift nest, placing me at the edge of the mattress as he stands before me. His hands are outstretched and shaking, ensuring I don’t topple over.

The sudden silence is stifling—especially when I find Noah gazing back at me with eyes just as wide.

For a while, we say nothing. But as Noah’s panic rises in my mind, I grit my teeth, and Noah lets out a shaky breath in response.

“He could be lying, Aliya.”

I flip between rage, grief, and terror all at once.

Then I finally settle on the same sense of doom I’ve felt all day.

“He’s not lying.” The words sting like acid coming out, forcing me to grip a fistful of my skirt. I suck in a desperate breath. “He’s terrible, but not that terrible. He thinks he's a good person—by his standards.”

Noah bites the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep his breath in check. He breaks our stare, lifting his head toward the ceiling with one hand on his forehead. As he frantically paces, I grip the bed sheets, barely able to tether myself to the earth.

“No matter what, he’s fucking with you. What asshole would drop that on a grieving person?” Noah stops dead in his tracks. “And without any details! What’s the drunk fucker’s name? Steven said the dude was old, but that’s it? What a fucking dick.”

My stomach sinks lower when I realize exactly why Steven did it this way.

“It's because he wants me to reach back out,” I mutter.

A sudden calm falls over Noah as he freezes in place, but the way he’s gazing at me unsettles me. Like he has an idea—one I’ll hate.

My skin crawls. “W-what? What are you thinking?”

Noah flashes his incisors—halfway between a grimace and a snarl. “I’ll call him with your account!”

“What?!”

“And with access to his new account, I can finally track him. He probably doesn’t know his photos can be traced.” Noah reverts to mindlink. Dave, this is an urgent lead about Steven Barrett; track the username "stbarrett92" and get back to our Luna and I as soon as possible, please.

On it, Dave says.

I choke out a gasp. “Noah! Finding Steven isn’t important right now.”

“Yes, it is! For all we know, he’s the fucker who killed them! He already hurt you!” Noah growls. “And why is he forcing his way back into your life now? Attempting to weaken you today, out of all days? What if he’s here, acting as a spectator wolf with a fake-ass name or something?”

I groan as I curl over my burning chest, unable to bear sitting upright. Noah rushes to my side, smoothing my hair out of my face.

He softens his voice. “I don’t have to call him now. But if I do, I can record everything he says, then I can tell him to leave you alone.”

I sigh. “He won’t talk to you. He’ll only talk to me.”

“Fuck. Well, then calling isn't an option.”

I blink a few times, adding up the pieces. “No, you’re right. I should call him. I need to—”

“Shit, no—” Noah groans, but I reach for my phone. “No, I shouldn’t have put that idea in your head—”

“My love, please, just listen for a second.”

Noah freezes, fear creasing his forehead.

“You’re right. But I know him best, and thanks to how much he manipulated things, I know exactly how to twist our conversations back to safety, like my life depends on it.”

As expected, Noah’s frown darkens. “Because it did.”

Placing my hand over his taut forearm, I soften my voice. “Here’s what I need.”

Noah swallows hard, his wolf pausing in his pacing in our bond. He stands, enraptured with me, just like Noah’s human eyes staring deep into mine.

I can’t bear to hold his gaze; if I look too closely, I’ll see too much of our shared pain.

Rolling my shoulders back, I steady my voice. “I need you to sit with me, and I’ll call him. You can’t say anything or he’ll stop talking—trust me.”

“Then can you at least use me as a threat?”

“I can’t threaten him. It's illegal in the human world.”

Noah takes a breath to speak, but I shake my head.

“Even with physical fucking evidence of him invading my body, the police never protected me, Noah. They only protected him . They always will.”

Noah closes his eyes, pain stinging our bond. “I know.”

His fragile voice nearly breaks me.

I suck in a hitching breath. “He won’t listen to my fears or cares, anyway. I’m a woman. He probably likes when I suffer. Finds it amusing.”

Noah grits his teeth, leaving us in silence. We sit in limbo for a solid minute, wavering over the possibilities.

Until Noah’s voice fills the space between us, his voice soft and even. “Alright, if he needs a man to put him in his place, I’ll step in at the end—after we have our information.”

I swallow hard, feeling a bit safer with this plan.

But Noah’s jaw can’t stop clenching.

“I’ll let him know he’ll never be able to hurt another woman again without paying for it.” His voice comes out just as delicate, but this time, it leaves a chill in the air.

My heart pounds into my throat, face to face with Noah’s blaring emotions. They’re too much to process beside my own. But with an overload of overwhelming sensations, my PTSD symptoms kick in—numbing me out.

Finally, all I hear is silence.

Noah’s eyes widen as my crying comes to an abrupt halt. “L-Luna?”

He’s looking at me, waiting for reassurance that I’m okay.

I don’t answer. I can’t.

“Omega? What's going on?”

Noah rubs my shoulders, arms, and cheeks, kissing each one with no response.

“ Aliya. ”

My eyes zip to his, not used to him calling me anything but his nicknames for me, unless he’s really trying to make a point. But I don’t know what else there is to say. I have no thoughts left, only vague whispers of terrors licking at my soul like escalating flames.

“W-what are you thinking?” Noah whispers.

“I’m thinking...” I tilt my head, distracted by the unfamiliar sound of my own voice; not only is it deadpan, but it’s also echoing in my head like it’s at the other end of a long tunnel. “I want to call him.”

Noah shuffles where he stands. “N-now?”

“Yes. If I have to live another second not knowing who might’ve killed our dads, I don’t think I can handle it.”

Veins bulge across Noah’s temples. “Okay. I’ll be right here.”

My thumb shakes as it hovers over the voice call button. When I finally tap it, my mind goes blank.

There’s silence.

Then there’s the first ring.

“A-are you going to be okay?” Noah whispers.

“Yes.”

Another ring.

Noah huffs. “You don’t look okay. But I can’t feel you. Did you shut yourself out of our bond from how afraid you feel?”

I glance at Noah. The call is already on its third ring.

“No. I can’t feel anything. At all,” I say.

Noah’s eyes widen.

His rubbing on my arms doesn’t even register, but it's rapid enough to catch my stare. Noah takes a breath to speak, right when Steven picks up.

“Hello?”

His voice is so familiar that I sit frozen in place—my mouth agape.

I’m tempted to fool my brain into thinking he’s just an old friend; the truth is too horrible to bear. I just called my abusive ex. He's talking to me.

Say something, Luna, Noah mindlinks.

When I don’t move, Noah’s wolf nips my wolf’s neck in our bond, and I jolt upright.

“Uh, hello? You there?” Steven asks.

Come on, brain, speak!

But what the fuck do I even say? The last time I saw him, he was—

My wolf tightens in defense, ready to rip off that face I see above me in my budding flashback.

I want to seem tough—to be angry.

But when I finally speak, all I can sputter is a soft, “H-hi.”

Noah’s eyebrows arch in sorrow at my strained voice, coming out squeaky and small.

“What? I can't hear you,” Steven says.

“Hi,” I blurt out, filling the eerily silent room. “Hi, Steven.”

His laugh chimes through the receiver, surprising Noah and me both. Noah sucks in a tight breath. I see him analyzing me in my peripherals, but I can’t bear to look at him. I’m afraid if I do, my protective mask will fall, and my true emotions will show Steven where to strike.

But Steven is still chuckling. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

Steven breaks my mask anyway.

I jump to my feet. A flicker of unbearable rage pierces through the numbness blanketing my mind. Noah chases after me, sticking to my side with his phone already recording.

“I don’t know what could be funny about someone possibly bragging about killing my dad, asshole.” I’m startled by the snarl in my own voice, but it only adds to my anger. I don’t sound like this. This isn’t me. I hate how much he’s changed me, again and again.

“Jesus, woman, calm down. You know I laugh when I’m nervous.”

Noah’s rage spikes.

His low growl startles me. But Noah softens when he sees me jump, hugging me close in apology.

Steven’s voice chirps from the speaker. “Uh, what the hell was that? A dog?”

I take a few hot, shaky breaths, clinging to the strings of our conversation before Steven derails it, like always. “Steven, you’re going to tell me what you know right now, and then we’re never speaking again.”

He blows out a slow breath. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know first?”

I blink a few times, struggling to process; I didn’t expect him to give in so quickly. What do I even start with?

Whipping open my messages with shaky fingers, my eyes land on one word:

hunter

“What did the hunter say, in his exact words? Tell me the story, from the beginning,” I say.

Steven hums, pausing for about ten seconds. “Yeah, I told you pretty much all of it already: the dude was drunk, bragging about something fucked-up that sounded familiar.”

“Then tell me again. I need to know as many details as possible.”

Steven sighs, wind rushing through the receiver in his silence.

“Are you outside?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want anyone in the office to hear me. It’s just twisted, you know? With how the cops basically cold-cased it, I wanted to tell you first.”

I drop to our bed, Noah’s emotions flip-flopping faster than mine as he halts in front of me, our knees brushing.

Finally, I allow myself to meet Noah’s eyes. As I feared, they’re steeped in horror.

But so are mine.

Yet Noah is here, braving this pain for me.

As my heart opens up to him, Noah’s posture softens, and my thoughts slip out.

Steven is being surprisingly empathetic... It makes me anxious.

Noah cups my cheek. I’m right here.

“Aliya? Are you still there?” Steven asks.

I blink a few times, struggling to push the words out.

My voice comes out soft and emotionless. “Just tell me what you know. Please.”

“I really did tell you everything.” Another whoosh of air muffles the receiver. I’m suddenly reminded of how much of a fidgeter Steven was, like he was always afraid I’d see straight through to his rotten core if he stayed still for too long.

Rolling my eyes, I open my mouth to urge him ahead, but to my surprise, Steven continues.

“I was sitting a couple stools down from him at the bar, and he had too much to drink. He was slurring, but we all got dead serious when he sobered up a little and said he got away with killing a dude once.”

I cover my mouth, nausea creeping up my throat.

“He said he could’ve sworn he saw bears, so he shot them. Turns out it was two big, bulky guys.”

By now, Noah is restless and jumpy, gripping the back of his neck as he shakes his head. I can’t contain myself either.

“And you just let him go on and on about this without doing anything about it? Everyone did? What the fuck?”

“No, Aliya, we did do something about it—of course we did! But not before I dug for more information for you! I thought you’d be relieved.”

I roll my eyes, biting back every cuss word I want to scream at him. “Then what else did you ask?”

“I asked him how long ago that was. He said five years. Almost six.”

Noah and I lock eyes. Their death anniversary is next month.

“Either way, my buddy and I told the cops once we sobered up today,” Steven says. “They said they'll look into it, but they also suggested Jack was just drunk.”

My heart flips. “Jack? The hunter’s name was Jack?”

“Uh, yeah. It was Jack...” Another whoosh. “Jack Hart, I think?”

Panic tightens my chest.

But it’s ten times worse as I look at Noah in front of me. His eyes fall flat in defeat.

Without having to ask, I can feel it in our bond: neither of us are surprised.

But the thought of Jack killing my dad still turns my heart inside out.

To my surprise, Noah dives to his knees in front of me, rushing to embrace me, chest to chest. You’re doing great. Ask him to tell you anything else about the act itself, in greater detail.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Nuzzling into Noah, I allow his presence to soothe my skyrocketing nerves.

When I first saw Steven's message, something within me hoped it was finally the answer we've needed.

But not if it’s Jack. I believe Noah over Steven; Jack would’ve much rather killed Ritchie with his own fangs.

My voice wavers. “Do you remember any other details about the act itself? Did he say he acted alone? No one else saw this hunter kill someone and get away with it?”

“Well, he didn’t mention anyone else in his story, so I don’t know.”

“Was it even the same murder, then? They’ve always said there might’ve been at least two hunters since the bullets were different.”

“That’s right, shit...” Steven is silent for a moment, leaving me on the edge with my heart pounding through my ears. “Well, I wouldn't be surprised if someone else was there. People rarely hunt alone by your parents’ place. It’s too overgrown and difficult to navigate.”

I stiffen. “I remember. You refused to go hunting with my dad, let alone meet him. Then he died, and you lost your chance.”

Steven has nothing to say.

Noah boils, barely containing his heated breath. I squeeze him tighter to my chest, our baby protected between us, and he drops his forehead against my shoulder.

Ask him about Mason. If Jack spends a lot of time with anyone.

“D-do you know if he has any friends he hangs out with? What about his son?”

“His son?”

Steven is silent for a while.

Noah lifts his head, meeting my gaze. We hang on every word, Noah’s chest stiffening like he’s hardly daring to breathe.

“I didn’t even know he had a son. He acted super lonely and sad while he was drunk,” Steven says.

I deflate, shaking my head at Noah. I thought that would give us another clue.

Jack was estranged from Mason as a kid for what he did to me and other Omegas. It was a long shot, but... Noah’s brows furrow, his focus dropping to the bed sheets beside me. Mason just sounds so much like Jack lately. I’ve wondered for a while if they’d team up someday.

Steven’s voice cuts through our mindlinks. “Hey, wait... How do you know so much about this old dude, anyway?”

My back stiffens. “How do you know him, Steven? I heard he hurt a lot of people—that’s how. Why are you hanging out with a guy like him?”

“It was a hunters’ event at the bar! Why would I tell you his fucked-up secrets if he was a friend?”

My heart drops when I realize something important. “T-the bar? Which bar?”

“The one in Westview.”

I grip Noah, barely able to catch my breath. “He’s in Westview? Like, our Westview? Next to Greenfield?”

“I mean, I guess? People travel from all over for these meetups, so who knows where the dude actually lives.”

Noah hisses beneath his breath, but it’s forceful enough to shift my focus.

Dammit. It's over now. Steven won't tell us anything else.

Steven waits for me to answer—to cover for Noah—but I can't think. The only sound is my own rabbiting heartbeat, throbbing in my ears.

When Steven speaks again, he’s lost his “charming” lilt. All that’s left is a dark, treacherous depth to his tone.

“Are you not alone?”

I grip Noah’s arm, swallowing a spike of panic. “N-no, of course I’m not alone! I’m freaking out! I’m with my—”

My breath shakes.

I’m so petrified that my wolf had no choice but to step forward for me—so much so that I almost said “my Alpha.”

Closing my eyes, I erase the panic from my voice. “I’m with my husband.”

Steven breaks into laughter. I wince, the sarcasm in his tone threatening to tear me apart; that tone means consequences are incoming. “You’re fucking married? Since when? Did you get knocked up, or something?”

My heartbeat pounds harder and harder, rage bubbling to the surface.

I break away from Noah, standing at the edge of the bed to clench and unclench my fists—unsure what to do with the fury in my veins.

“Seriously, Aliya, I never imagined you to be the type. The last I heard, you were still in that cottage—”

“Fuck you, Steven!” My voice echoes throughout our suite. “You don’t deserve to know anything about me! You’re a sick fucking stalker!”

Steven is silent, but I’ve unlocked something within myself I’ve kept trapped for a long time. And she’s not going back into her cage.

When I look into my mate’s eyes, the horrified ache overpowering his rage makes it all spill out of me.

“I wasn’t the type to get married after I broke up with you , only because you— You—” Despite my best efforts, my voice catches with emotion. “You hurt me!”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Steven’s voice comes out soft. “You hurt me too.”

Sobs break through my anger, and I huff in frustration; he’ll never take me seriously, now that I'm crying.

He has no idea what he really did to me since he thinks I owed him my body. He thinks I took his property away from him by dumping him, when really, he took everything from me that day he broke in.

So many times, I’ve wished I could shake the reality into him, screaming the truth of what he did to me to his face. But just like every time he’s knocked me down, I sputter through my fear of what he’ll do next, unable to spit a single word out.

Steven sighs. “After everything I’ve done for you, you still fucking hate me, huh?”

My lip quivers as Steven laughs.

Noah’s hand grips his chest, grimacing as I cry my ugliest cry.

My shoulders droop. “You never used to be this cruel. Why do you have to keep treating me like this?”

To my surprise, Steven doesn’t reply right away. When he does, he’s quieter than ever. “I don't know. I just don't understand why you hate me so much, I guess.”

With this, Noah doesn’t allow me to continue to see his expression. He buries my head into his chest like he’s protecting me from the pain. His heartbeat pounds into my ear. I love you. I’ve got you.

I love you too, Noah.

You don't have to deal with this a second more.

“Anyway, I, uh...” Steven sniffs. “I’m sorry. For how badly I hurt you.”

My eyes widen in shock.

But a fuse snaps in Noah, freezing me in place as he opens his palm.

Before he even asks aloud, I place my phone in Noah’s hand. My eyes trail up his arm—the whole length bulging with veins as his blood pressure skyrockets. Finally, I meet his eyes. Luckily, he’s not looking at me. If he was, my wolf would cower on instinct; cold-blooded hatred seeps from Noah’s golden stare.

Gripping the phone close, Noah cuts through the silence, his voice deepening into a growl. “It’s too late for apologies, you pathetic fuck.”