Page 14

14

EVE

H ours had passed while I crouched in the shadows of a neglected alleyway, huddled close to a rusting dumpster that reeked of rotting vegetables and damp cardboard. The scent was overwhelming, putrid enough that no one would catch my trail here, especially as night descended and supernaturals would be roaming the streets. As for the humans who passed this part of town, they didn’t care who you were or what you’d done—they had their own secrets, their own problems. The spot was perfect.

Because I was going mad.

The wolf of my visions wasn’t just any wolf, not even any shifter from Orion.

His intensity, the way he’d commanded attention even in chaos. The way he’d stepped in with no hesitation, like he was compelled to protect me.

Orion , I thought again, the pieces finally clicking into place. He is Logan, the alpha of Orion.

I inhaled sharply, my mind spinning with flashes of the visions that had plagued me over the years. I’d always seen one figure standing tall, fierce and unwavering, even as those around him faded and blurred. A lone protector, keeping watch over his pack despite the odds stacked against him. And he’d always been strong, defiant, as if fighting the weight pressing down on him.

And now I knew why—it was him. Logan. The alpha of Orion.

The few strangers who moved past kept their heads down, jackets pulled tight, not sparing me a glance. For once, there was no one hovering, no whispers of orders to fulfill, no demands for visions I didn’t want to see.

I stared down at my scraped hands, my dress torn and dirt-streaked, my skin prickling under the night’s cold. I should have thought ahead, should have seen this coming. But in every vision, every plan I’d ever managed to craft to be free of Damian and the Heraclids, I’d never pictured what would happen after .

I still felt the eyes of that wolf—Logan—tracing over my wounds, his anger simmering beneath the surface, the way he made my heart pound with overwhelming emotion. He had been the first person to look at me like I was something more than a tool, something worth fighting for. And for one wild, foolish moment, I’d almost let myself believe I could… belong.

To him.

Impossible. I wouldn’t be anyone’s captive again. They had done their worst to me, and now I was on my own. That had to be better than my condition before.

It had to be .

But the fantasy shattered the instant I’d left the café. Logan had fulfilled his purpose in my life. He’d killed Damian. The Heraclids would come looking for me. Kenza’s loyalty belonged to the Heraclids, to Grayson, maybe even in a twisted way, to Damian. Anwen, sweet as she was, had enough trouble keeping herself alive—she could never leave the Heraclid lands even if she tried.

I was on my own.

I leaned my head against the cool brick wall, the hard surface digging into the bruises along my back. The wounds on my skin had gone numb, as if they’d absorbed all the pain they could handle. All I had was this night, this empty stretch of time where no one could tell me where to go, what to see, or who to become. My future was mine, every frightening inch of it.

Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my cheeks, hot and unrelenting. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself cry, truly cry. I hugged my knees, curling up against the chill, pressing my face against my arms. It wasn’t just grief. It was anger. Loss. The years of betrayal, of being used.

Damian was gone, but his ghost lingered, like a shadow trailing every thought and scar. I wanted to scream, to tear apart every bit of hurt he’d ever caused me and leave it behind, right here in this filthy alleyway. But it was all I’d ever known.

I rubbed the wetness from my face, staring up at the narrow slice of night sky visible above the rooftops. Stars glinted faintly, distant and cold. Somewhere, hidden in that darkness, lay the answers I’d been chasing for so long.

Shadow Moon Goddess, what is next ?

I drew in a shuddering breath, pressing my back harder against the wall, wincing at the fresh pain.

And so this was freedom.

A faint “psst” pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see a young woman crouched at the edge of the alley, holding out a sandwich wrapped in brown paper. She extended it toward me, her eyes kind but wary.

She smiled, encouraging. “Go on, take it. You look like you need it.”

Reluctantly, I reached for the sandwich, clutching it tightly as if it might vanish any second. A part of me wondered if there might be poison in it. I didn’t know who to trust in this human city.

She studied me with an intensity that set me on edge. “You’re an oracle,” she stated. “From Crux, right?”

“Oracle, yes, assuming you know what that means. But Crux?” I asked. “Never heard of it.”

“Never, huh?” She pursed her lips and pointed at the sandwich. “You can eat that. I scented you hours ago but was waiting for you to seem less skittish. Your wolf was more restless than I’ve seen in anyone in a while.”

I nearly dropped the sandwich. “You can see my wolf ?” My heart began to race. This young woman was turning everything upside down in a matter of moments.

“Not so much see as sense.” The young woman’s hand lifted, hovering as if she might touch me and stopping a few feet away. “You’re hurt.”

I pulled back instinctively, clutching the sandwich like a lifejacket. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

“Are you alone?”

Again, I avoided her gaze. What did it matter to her if I was alone? Damian was gone, and this kind of alone was the best I’d felt since… ever.

Except, not really.

“I’m fine. Traveling. On my own.”

She drew back slightly, as if seeing me anew. “ Oh ,” she breathed, “you’re one of the lost ones .”

My head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

I didn’t want to care about what this random young woman had to say, and yet a part of me clung on to her every word.

She shook her head slowly. “I thought that was just lore… stories from the days after the Great Separation. But here you are. A lost one in the flesh and blood. Alive and—mostly—well. My name is Dahlia. What’s yours?”

“Eve.” It flew out of my mouth without my realizing. I should have said Andrea or Jane or anything else, but no. She now knew my name. At least, the name that everyone called me. But not the name my mother had given me at birth.

That made her eyes widen even more. “Eve. Eve. I can’t even…” She scooted closer to me. “I know you’re hurt. Will you let me touch you?”

“No!” I was suddenly ready to run. “No.”

Her hand dropped to her side, and she nodded. “I understand. I don’t know how to prove to you that I mean no harm, except you must feel something too. Something that exists between us that you haven’t felt before, right?” She held her hands out, palms up. “I think I can help you. I can be a healer to you.”

Hesitating, I finally let out a breath, nodding. She reached out and touched my arm, her fingers light as a feather.

The effect was immediate.

Warmth spread from her touch, flowing through me like a hot spring, soothing and powerful. I gasped, feeling a strange energy awaken inside me, alive and sparking. It was as though my wolf had stirred from a long sleep, stretching against the constraints that had held her down for so long. The wounds on my back began to close, the skin mending with a speed I’d only ever dreamed of. I could feel it—bone and sinew knitting together, the searing pain transforming.

I was barely able to speak. “How did you do that?”

A trace of pride lit her features. “Because, Eve, we are from the same pack.”