Page 121 of Shifting Hearts

THIRTEEN

JASON

T o think we were so close to crossing paths again, it still didn’t make sense. Alex had told her over and over that I was a lockpass lost. Did she forget? Was it too hard to process Alex and Leigh’s involvement? What?

I sighed. The plan had always been stupid. They didn’t have the resources, and she would struggle to find me. But never in a million years did I think she could end up in two places at once. When I had her abilities, it never happened. Why her?

I didn’t want to kill her, not as much as I wanted to, but I would let her go. Alex was right; she deserved a second chance.

Leigh liked her too, though I wasn’t sure if it was because she was his brother’s choice or something else.

Sometimes, when she stared at Morgan, I wondered if Leigh really knew what she looked like.

Mel and Leigh’s sight had always worked as a team, Mel seeing the events, Leigh piecing together the when and how.

Since Mel’s death, her visions had only grown sharper.

Maybe she’d seen this too, and that was why she hadn’t told any of us.

The door opened, and he stepped into the shed. He looked the same, but a hatred I had only seen once, after his sister died, twisted his features.

It was silent outside. He wanted to deal with her alone.

I looked at Morgan. She was drained from the UV shackles, too weak to lift her head.

“The famous Blaze,” he sneered, his voice low, venomous. “Useless. It’s almost sad. I always imagined our paths crossing in battle, a fight worth savoring. But this? You can’t even defend yourself. And your fire doesn’t scare me.”

“It’s Morgan, Collin,” I said quietly, but he didn’t hear me. His gaze stayed locked on her, full of disgust.

“Think of all the horror you wrought on werewolves, witches, djinns. Your reckoning is here. And it won’t be quick, Blaze.”

He closed the door and moved closer, stopping just in front of her.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day, to find the one who slaughtered our packs to raise a wolf army.

And for what? Your so-called Great War?” He growled, pacing the shed.

“Heiko is Alpha of all packs. Kidnapping those pups was for nothing. One command from him, and all of you would be dead.”

He was right to be furious.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” He grabbed her hair, lifting her head.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Then his voice changed. From rage to disbelief. “How is this possible?”

He turned toward me, and I squinted. Could he see me?

A single tear streaked down his cheek. His lower lip trembled.

He released her hair and stepped back, trying to regain composure.

Cupping his mouth, more tears fell, and he couldn’t look at her.

He turned, leaning against the shed wall, shoulders shaking.

“You and me both,” I whispered, tears pooling in my eyes. Their bond was different this time. It wasn’t like before. He wanted to protect her, and he had failed, just like me.

“Why? Why did you do this?” he shouted, anguish cracking his voice.

I wanted to leave, escape the weight of it all, but I couldn’t.

“I made a mistake. I realize that now.”

“You made a mistake?” He sniffed hard and approached again. This time, gentler. He lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Becoming a vampire to accomplish what?”

“I’m sorry. I guess I thought, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and final.

She told him she had no idea who he was, yet the way she answered the questions suggested she knew exactly.

“How am I supposed to kill you?” he demanded.

“If it matters, I still don’t remember who you are. Just do it. Please. It’s time.”

Utter confusion washed over his face. “What do you mean?”

“I have no recollection of my past life. No memory of why I wanted to be a vampire. But I think I understand now.”

“You think you understand?” His disgust radiated like heat. “How did you turn into this? Why? Explain it to me!”

“I wasn’t wolf material.”

I squinted, disbelief sharpening my gaze.

“That’s why you did this?” he spat. “She died of a broken heart, and I guess that means nothing to you, does it?”

She shook her head. Beth had died of a broken heart. I sighed.

“I should tear you apart for everything you’ve done. You were never meant to become this. I don’t care if you were wolf material or not. This, this wasn’t the way.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely audible.

“Don’t say you’re sorry again.” His hands trembled with barely contained fury. “Your eyes… demon eyes, still in transition from red. I know how long that takes. But you, you loved death. You kept killing even after you stopped feeding on humans. You’re some kind of?—”

“No,” she interrupted sharply. “Someone in my coven wanted the world to believe I was still Blaze. That I was at large. It’s a hoax. I haven’t used my fire in decades.”

“I heard the pack killed two Varcolacs. Abominations. You must know that.”

“They inspired me. They existed because a wolf and a vampire could love each other.”

“It’s wrong!” he growled.

“I know that now. I’m sorry. I can’t undo it, so just kill me.”

Part of me wished he would. To finally put an end to all of it. But I knew he wouldn’t.

Instead, he bit her exactly where the she-wolf had, drawing out the venom. He spat the poisoned blood to the floor. Over and over again.

“Why?” she demanded. “Kill me! I don’t want to live!”

“No,” he said, spitting again. “You’re clean. You will live. And with the gods as my witnesses, your memory will return. You’ll feel all the pain you inflicted on us.”

She stared. He stared. The tension between them was suffocating. A tear slid down my cheek.

He didn’t speak again. He went for gasoline, poured it over everything. She was immune to fire.

He lit his Zippo and looked at her standing at the doorway. He still loved her, but realizing she had been the thorn in their sides all these years broke him.

“Do me a favor: stay dead. Because if I ever find you again… I will kill you myself.”

Then he dropped the flame onto the gasoline.

It took a full day for her strength to return completely.

She emerged from the shed—naked, scarred—but as she stepped outside, her skin healed, leaving no trace of what had been done to her. I followed at a distance, watching as she found a washing line in someone’s yard and, with quiet efficiency, stole a pair of pants and a shirt.

Then she ran. Fast. Far.

Eventually, we ended up in New Orleans, and I knew this would be where she made her new life. She rented a small apartment above a bar and took work as a scullery maid in one of the local restaurants.

Months passed. She began to gain a strange respect for humans, hunting only in the nearby forests, far enough from her coven yet close enough to survive. Slowly, she became something of a protector of New Orleans. Other supernaturals lived there too, but they kept their distance.

On her nightly walks, she always left food for those in need, never asking names or wanting anything in return.

Her new persona wasn’t enough. I needed more distance from Morgan’s shadow to not see her for what she had been. I would be the first Lockpass who wouldn’t want to be with his mate… if she even was supposed to be mine.

She was polite with humans, made a joke or two—but it wasn’t a Morgan joke. It was Natasha. And I didn’t like Natasha. She had killed the love of my life.

Work became a rhythm for her. She was promoted from scullery maid to busser, and then to waitress under Jeremy’s guidance.

One night, after stopping a robbery, Jeremy’s trust in her deepened.

He even gave her an extra set of keys, seeing her dedication as she opened and locked the restaurant each day.

Then the night came when she heard a commotion.

A gunshot. That was how she turned Paul, he wanted it, and she, surprisingly, controlled herself.

She bit him, stopped at the right moment, a miracle in itself.

She helped him back to her apartment, cleaned him up.

He reminded me of Ryan, tall, dark-blonde hair, glasses. And then the pain began.

She handed him a pillow and begged him to scream into it. He understood, venting his agony while she stayed beside him, her fire simmering but restrained. She could have killed him, and yet… she didn’t.

She was done. She was lonely.

At night, she cried. I never knew if it was for Alex and Leigh, or if she remembered them at all. Morgan never appeared in those moments.

Two weeks later, Paul returned, and I had never seen a vampire so thoroughly shocked.

She tended to him, let him shower, even stole clothes from Jeremy’s house for him.

He confessed what had happened—he’d hunted his killer, felt satisfaction, but had accidentally killed a woman, a mother.

Seeing her child shattered him, breaking his spirit in an instant.

“It’s your gift,” she told him. “Your compassion.”

They left for South Dakota, to the Black Hills, and she stayed by his side, guiding him through the forested land I had purchased until he was ready. They rented a cabin, planted a vegetable garden, and even created a nursery in one of the rooms. They cared for it all diligently.

Morgan found work at the restaurant Mel and I eventually joined, while Paul helped with construction. The boy was extraordinary. His compassion reminded me of Morgan, his restraint from killing humans was almost alien. New vampires often carried a deranged hunger for blood, but not him.

They became active in the community, helping wherever they could. I realized then that they were the couple Frederickson had wanted me to meet, but they had left unexpectedly. Mel joked that greater help had arrived, but I saw in my mind that Black Hills had lost a rare opportunity.

Time passed. One night, Paul had a wild idea, and I laughed along with Morgan. He wanted to build a whole community, not just a shelter, but affordable homes, a little village.

“We need money, Paul,” Morgan said.

“No,” he replied. “We don’t. We can work through the night. Build it like a real hippy village.”

And just like that, she began to carve a life beyond the shadow of Blaze.

“Oh, someone gave you that land, just to cut down the trees for these homes?” she asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

He understood immediately.

“I love your idea,” she continued, “but we need money, Paul.”

His excitement faltered. “Yeah… maybe it was a silly idea after all.”

“No, it’s not,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful. And who knows… maybe it could actually happen.”

He sank slightly, a shadow of disappointment crossing his face. But he was good for her. The nights were quieter now; she didn’t cry as much.

The years passed.

They spent Christmases alone, often invited to New Year’s parties. And every time, she would perch on a windowsill, away from the crowd, staring out into the night.

“What are you thinking?” I asked once, but she didn’t answer.

So I just watched the world through her eyes, gazing out at the cold glow of lights, listening to the countdown of voices ringing in the New Year.

I closed my own eyes, a heavy weight pressing on me. It was wrong. So wrong. And I had no idea where it would end for us. I shouldn’t feel this way at all, I was supposed to have all the answers, but some things about Morgan Freeman remained a mystery. Some things I would never understand.