Page 35

35

TILDA

E nid comes back as the sun sets, just like she promised. The door creaks open, and I jump to my feet, my heart pounding as her head pokes around the edge.

“I cleared the way for you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the evening’s stillness. “It should be safe.”

I exhale sharply, tension draining from my shoulders. Even now, part of me doubted she’d actually do it. Seeing her here, though, makes my heart ache. She pushes the door open wider, stepping into the dim light of the cell. She’s been crying—her eyes are rimmed with red, and her bottom lip is swollen and chewed raw. My little sister, trying to be so strong but clearly breaking under the weight of it all.

“Will you come back to see me?” she asks, her voice trembling.

I can’t answer right away, the lump in my throat too thick to speak around. Instead, I step forward and pull her into a tight hug. She feels so small and fragile in my arms, her bony shoulders stiff at first before she relaxes, clutching me as if she doesn’t want to let go.

“Of course,” I finally manage, my voice muffled against her hair. “But for now…I have to go. Patrick will never let me free if I stay.”

“I know,” she murmurs. Her voice cracks, and it guts me. “I just…I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“So do I,” I admit, pulling back just enough to look at her face. “But I have to leave. You know that.”

Her gaze drops to the ground, her hands twisting in front of her. For a moment, I think she might argue, but then she nods, resolute. “Be safe, Tilda.”

“I will,” I promise, though I’m not entirely sure if it’s a promise I can keep. I press my forehead against hers briefly, a gesture that’s more comforting than any words could be. “I love you, Enid.”

She manages a small, wobbly smile as she looks up at me, tears glinting in the corners of her eyes. “Love you, too,” she whispers.

We go completely silent as we sneak together down the hall of the jail, past the front desk. It’s vacant, the door ajar. “What did you do?” I ask.

“Just stirred up the cattle out on the north side of town,” Enid says, her voice low but steady. “They’re all kicking up a ruckus, and they needed all the help they could get. I ran in and asked the warden for help.”

I grin despite myself, a flicker of pride cutting through the tension. “Clever,” I say. “And the path to the fence?”

“Should be all clear,” she says. “But hurry—we only have so much time.”

I pause at the door, biting my lip as a dozen thoughts swirl in my mind. There are so many things I want to say to her, to convince her to come with me now, to protect her the way I always have. But she’s right—we’re running short on time.

“Enid,” I say softly, turning back to her. “I’m going to leave you here so you don’t get in trouble if I get caught. But…please, I want you to really think about coming to live with me in Austin. It isn’t safe here, and you shouldn’t have to give anything up for medicine.”

Her eyes sparkle, and I know I’m toeing the line. If I keep pushing, she’ll start crying again, and I can’t risk that—not when we’re so close to pulling this off.

“I don’t…I can’t go now,” she says, her voice cracking. “But if I decide to leave, how will I even get that far? I sold my horse.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat nearly choking me. “In a few weeks—the night of the new moon—I’ll ride Annie out to that tree where we buried Mom’s ring. Meet me there? Then you can decide.”

She nods, her expression conflicted but determined. “Okay,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands tremble at her sides. She’s holding herself together by sheer force of will.

I step closer and pull her into one last hug, holding her tight as if I can somehow shield her from the dangers she refuses to leave behind. “Be brave, Enid,” I whisper. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her arms tighten around me briefly before she steps back, her face crumpling as she fights back tears. I want to stay, to promise her everything will be okay, but I know I can’t. Time is running out.

She separates from me reluctantly, and I force myself to turn away. I don’t look back as I make my way toward the fence, the weight of her presence lingering behind me.

Every step feels heavier than the last, but I push forward, knowing that freedom—and Reyes—are waiting on the other side.

True to her word, the sound of cattle braying carries on the wind as I approach the fence, their low cries blending with the distant clatter of hooves. The commotion from the north seems to have everyone preoccupied. Still, I keep to the shadows, crouching low and sticking close to the fence line. My pulse pounds in my ears, every rustle of grass or snap of a twig setting my nerves on edge. I don’t know who might still be lurking, waiting for the opportunity to hurt me.

Enid’s distraction worked better than I dared hope. I don’t encounter a single person as I move through the shadows, my breaths shallow and measured. Even the watchtower has only one sentry, his focus fixed entirely on the gate. He doesn’t even glance my way, oblivious to the fact that his town’s defenses are riddled with holes.

They really need to get this fence patched up , I think wryly, though my heart races as I inch closer to the gap. The brush disguising the hole is barely convincing, just a hasty effort to conceal a glaring vulnerability. I duck my head as I spot it, a glimmer of hope surging through me as I shuffle eagerly toward the opening.

Then the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking freezes me in place.

I close my eyes and raise my hands, standing straight up. My senses are in overdrive, my nails already growing into claws, my teeth getting longer and sharper.

I wonder if Patrick will notice…because that’s certainly who just caught me.

“Easy does it,” he says, his voice gruff. “Turn around.”

I do as he says, lifting my chin in a show of dignity. I won’t let him beat me down—not after everything I’ve been through, and all the things I’ve done for Homestead. He draws closer, a smirk on his face.

“The priest’s whore,” he says. “Should’ve known you’d find some way to crawl out of that hole I threw you in.”

“Why?” I ask. “Because you know I’m smarter and stronger than you?”

He narrows his eyes, his tone laced with condescension. “You shouldn’t pick fights when you’re not the one holding the gun.”

I bark out a sharp laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re such a bully, Patrick,” I say, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “And it’s going to get this town destroyed. You’re already running it into the ground with your idiotic decisions.”

His lips curl into a sneer. “Now, let’s calm down.”

“Calm down?” I repeat, incredulous. “You had the chance to make an alliance with the pack—actual help, Patrick—but instead, you spit in their faces and shot their leader. You’ve turned them into your enemy, and when they win this war, you’re going to regret every single stupid choice you’ve made.”

He tilts his head, smirking like he’s just figured me out. “You switched sides fast,” he says, his voice mocking. “Guess he must be good, huh?”

My frown deepens, and I cross my arms, glaring at him. “Why are you so obsessed with my sex life, Patrick?” I snap. “Is it because you’re jealous? Or is controlling the people here the only thing that gets you off anymore?”

His face twists in anger, and his grip tightens on the gun. “You fucking bitch,” he snarls, raising the rifle to aim.

But I don’t give him the chance to pull the trigger.

Instinct takes over, and I lunge toward him, moving faster than he can react. My shoulder slams into his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground with a grunt. The rifle clatters from his hands, and his head snaps back against the gravel with a sickening thud.

Patrick groans, dazed, trying to scramble away, but I’m on him before he can get his bearings. He’s no fighter—his movements are sluggish, clumsy. I pin him down, my hand pressing against his chest, vicious claws bared, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us.

I should kill him.

The thought surges through me, hot and undeniable. He’s a threat—a coward hiding behind a gun, who would sell me out in a heartbeat if it suited him. He’d betray his own people, let them starve, just to keep his illusion of power intact. Ending him now would save me, save the pack, and maybe even save Homestead from itself.

My hand tightens into a fist, trembling as I hover over him, my breath ragged.

“Do it,” he spits, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “You think you’re so much better than me? Prove it.”

The full moon urges me to violence. My blood surges, hot and wild, as Patrick lies beneath me, vulnerable and pathetic. The gun is so close—just an arm’s length away. I could grab it now, pull the trigger, and be done with him. Or I could ignore the gun entirely. My claws, my teeth—they’re more than enough.

I’ve killed before, more times than I care to count. And if I’m being honest with myself, some of those people probably didn’t deserve it. Patrick, though? Patrick does. He locked me in a cage for six straight days. He pulled a gun on me. He let his petty hatred and ego get in the way of an alliance that could have saved lives. If he lives, he’ll keep hurting people. He’ll keep hurting my sister.

My hands twitch, aching to finish this, but I force myself to stillness.

If I kill him now, it won’t just be me proving his worst fears about lycanthropy—it’ll be me proving them to Enid, too. And I can’t do that to her.

My breath hitches as I grab the gun. The weight of it in my hands feels almost too familiar. For one terrifying moment, I think I might use it anyway. But I don’t. Instead, I thumb the safety on, holding Patrick’s gaze the entire time, letting him see just how much control I have. Then, with a sharp flick of my wrist, I toss the gun into the brush. It lands with a dull thud, swallowed by the shadows.

Patrick cowers, his chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths. His eyes dart between me and the place where the gun disappeared, as though he’s still holding out hope he might get it back. He won’t.

I plant my feet firmly on either side of him, standing tall. My shadow stretches over him in the moonlight, and I can feel the power in my stance, the dominance that he can’t begin to match. “I want to make it very clear that I’m making a choice,” I say, my voice low and steady. Each word lands like a blow, and I watch as his body flinches with every syllable. “My choice is not to kill you, even though I have the opportunity and you certainly wouldn’t have hesitated to kill me.”

Patrick swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nods, but I’m not done. I crouch down, leaning closer so that my face is just inches from his. My voice drops even lower, a dangerous growl beneath the words. “Do you know why I’m letting you live, Patrick? It’s not because you deserve it. You don’t. It’s because my pack aren’t monsters. I’m not a monster. You’re the only monster here.”

He doesn’t say anything, his wide, terrified eyes fixed on mine.

“Homestead would be safer without you,” I continue, my voice dripping with venom. “But I’m giving you this one chance to make it right. If you want to lead these people, then you better start acting like a leader instead of a coward hiding behind a gun.”

Patrick’s lips tremble as he mutters, “Okay. I get it. You’re in charge.”

I bare my teeth in a mockery of a smile, leaning even closer. “And one more thing,” I say, my voice soft but no less deadly. “If you ever lay a hand on my sister—or even think about hurting her—I will come back. And I will end you.”

The weight of my words presses down on him, and he nods frantically, sputtering half-formed promises of compliance. His hands dig into the gravel, his body pinned by fear as much as my presence.

I straighten slowly, taking my time as I rise back to my full height. Patrick stays glued to the ground, his trembling hands still clutching the dirt like it might save him.

“Stay down, Patrick,” I say, my voice cold and final. “That’s where you belong.”

Without sparing him another glance, I turn on my heel and stride toward the fence. My heart pounds with adrenaline, and my senses stay sharp, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. I’ve made my point. Enid will be safer with the pack, and Patrick knows better than to test me again.

She’ll be safe. She has to be. Because if she’s not, I won’t hesitate to come back and finish what I started.

The moonlight catches me mid-step, its glow filtering through the red haze of the Celestial Curtain. I’d never thought much of the full moon before—not like Reyes or the others do—but tonight it feels different. It’s not just a light in the sky. It’s a force, searing and commanding, far more powerful than I ever imagined.

I choke out a grunt as the power washes over me, dropping to my knees in the dirt. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my body shuddering as though I’ve been struck by lightning. My skin feels too tight, my muscles burning with a heat that’s both agonizing and exhilarating.

Something is wrong.

No. Not wrong.

It’s inevitable.

My fingers dig into the ground, nails scraping against the dirt as my hands tremble. No, not hands—claws. I watch, wide-eyed, as my fingers lengthen and twist, nails darkening and curving into sharp points. My arms ripple with new muscle, the bones beneath shifting, popping, reshaping themselves into something entirely other.

I scream, or try to, but the sound that escapes my throat isn’t human. It’s guttural, raw, the growl of an animal. My back arches, my spine stretching and snapping with each agonizing shift. My clothes strain and tear, falling away in tatters as fur begins to sprout across my body—sleek and dark, catching the faint moonlight.

The pain is unbearable, but beneath it, something else stirs. A power I’ve never known. A sense of belonging, of completion. Like this is what I was always meant to be.

My vision sharpens as my eyes shift, the world suddenly brighter and clearer. Every blade of grass, every crack in the fence ahead of me is illuminated with stunning clarity. My senses explode—scents, sounds, and sights I’ve never noticed flooding my mind all at once. The world is alive, vivid, and so am I.

I don’t know how long it takes. Seconds? Minutes? An eternity? But when the pain finally subsides, I rise to my feet—or rather, to my paws. My limbs are powerful, every muscle honed and ready. I glance down at my claws, flexing them experimentally, and a shiver of exhilaration runs through me.

This is what it feels like to be a wolf.

The fence looms ahead, the gap concealed by brush, and I surge forward. My movements are smooth, instinctive, as though I’ve always had this form. My body responds effortlessly, each stride carrying me closer to freedom. The scents of the forest fill my nose—earth, grass, and the faint, lingering trace of the pack. My pack.

Reaching the fence, I drop low to the ground, my new form sliding easily through the hole in the chain link. My fur brushes against the metal, and I pause for a moment, ears pricked for any sound behind me. Nothing. Patrick isn’t coming. Not this time.

Once on the other side, I stop and glance back at Homestead. The sight of it fills me with a strange mix of sadness and triumph. I’ve left so much behind here—my sister, my past—but I’ve gained something so much greater. My freedom. My future.

I turn my head toward the forest, where I know Reyes and the others are waiting. Without hesitation, I throw my head back and let out a long, low howl. It’s a sound I didn’t know I could make, but it feels right—like a signal, a promise.

I’m coming home.