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He didn’t even uncross his arms, just casually extended his elbow at precisely the right height as the wolf tried to regain his balance.

The connection between bone and temple made a sound like a billiard ball being cracked, and the wolf collapsed like his skeleton had suddenly vacated the premises.

And Felix… watching him fight was like witnessing violence transformed into art.

Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next, his body responding to attacks before they fully materialized.

He never struck with more force than necessary, yet never hesitated when an opening appeared—precision and restraint wrapped in lethal capability.

Without planning, without even a shared glance, we fell into sync like we’d been fighting together for years.

When he pivoted away from a punch, I was already positioned to catch the attacker’s extended arm.

When I dropped low, he used my shoulders as a launch point, vaulting over me to intercept the threat approaching from behind.

It wasn’t coordination. It was instinct. Gravity. Inevitability.

My wolf practically purred with satisfaction as we moved in perfect tandem. Felix caught my eye, a flash of recognition passing between us before he nodded toward the heavy wooden beam crossing the ceiling—one of the bar’s rustic support elements.

For once, I didn’t calculate trajectory or assess risks. My perpetual internal risk analysis simply… switched off.

I sprinted toward the wall, using a barstool as a springboard to propel myself off the wall and upward.

My hands found the rough-hewn beam, fingers wrapping around the solid oak.

Instead of swinging away, I pulled my knees to my chest and used the beam like a pull-up bar, lifting my entire body horizontal.

The two wolves charging me had committed to their attack—they couldn’t stop in time.

I scissored my legs around the first wolf’s neck as he passed beneath me, using my grip on the beam and the momentum of his charge to flip him backward into his buddy. They went down in a tangle of limbs and curses.

I dropped back to the floor in a crouch. My muscles burned in the best possible way. My heart pounded, blood singing with adrenaline and the pure joy of movement. I wasn’t calculating angles or analyzing threats—just reacting, flowing, trusting my body to know what to do.

Felix vaulted over the bar, landing beside me as the last standing wolf crawled backward on hands and knees. We were both breathing hard, and I couldn’t control the smile that had taken over my face.

“Having fun yet?” His voice was a warm caress against my ear as we rotated positions smoothly, backs never exposed.

And the answer surprised me—yes. Goddess, yes. When was the last time I’d felt this alive? This present in my own skin? This free?

“Fire alarm!” Lydia called out sweetly, flicking her wrist toward the ceiling. The sprinklers activated instantly, drenching everyone in cold water.

The bartender was cursing creatively about insurance rates and police reports as soaked patrons streamed toward the exits.

The Westport wolves lay scattered across the floor, drenched and disoriented, at least two sporting concussions they’d feel for days.

Cole struggled to his knees, murder blazing in his eyes despite the blood washing down his face in pink rivulets.

“Time to go,” I called to my team, grabbing Felix’s hand without thinking.

The contact sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with combat adrenaline and everything to do with the way his fingers automatically interlaced with mine, fitting together like pieces designed for each other.

His skin was warm, callused in different places than my own, his pulse remarkably steady despite the mayhem we’d just orchestrated.

We burst into the night air, cool March wind slicing through our wet clothes as the unmistakable wail of approaching sirens pierced the darkness. The young lone wolf stood with Zeke at the mouth of the alley, his expression hovering between wariness and gratitude.

“Go,” I told him, squeezing Felix’s hand once before forcing myself to release it. “Head east toward the Greyhound station. Three miles down. They don’t check IDs after midnight.”

The kid nodded frantically, eyes darting between us like he still couldn’t quite process what had happened. “Thank you. I didn’t think… Nobody’s ever…”

“Get moving, kid,” Felix said, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. “Stay smart out there.”

We watched until he disappeared into the labyrinth of Kansas City’s back streets, swallowed by shadows and steam rising from grates.

Only then did I turn to assess my team, standing in the fluorescent glow of a flickering streetlamp.

We were all soaked to the skin, clothes disheveled, hair plastered to our skulls—and every single one of us was grinning.

Even Duke, though he was trying to hide it behind his usual scowl.

“That,” Mira announced, wringing enough water from her rainbow hair to fill a small puddle, “was fucking LEGENDARY.”

“Completely unnecessary,” Lydia observed primly, somehow managing to look elegant despite being drenched. “Though admittedly well-executed.”

Duke shook his head, water streaming from his ruined jacket in rivulets. “Nothing like a bar brawl to remind me why I avoid socializing.” His voice was gruff but missing its usual edge of disapproval. “We need to clear out before the cops show up. This was reckless as hell, Annabella.”

He was right, and I knew it. Getting involved in local Pack politics wasn’t just off-mission; it was dangerous, potentially compromising everything we’d worked for.

We were here to take down the Wolf Council, not play vigilante in every territorial dispute.

I had a responsibility to my team, to my sister, to the cause.

But my blood was still singing in my veins, heart thundering against my ribs with an exhilaration I hadn’t experienced in years.

The memory of moving in perfect sync with Felix, of trusting my instincts instead of my calculations, had awakened something I’d buried so deep I’d forgotten it existed—joy. Pure, uncomplicated joy in the moment.

I didn’t want to go back to the loft. Back to maps and timetables and the crushing weight of being the one everyone looked to for answers. I wanted to hold on to this feeling—this wild, fierce aliveness with no responsibilities, no obligations—just a little longer.

But that wasn’t my life. That couldn’t be my life, and I had to make sure I never forgot that.

I looked at my team—really looked at them. Mira bouncing on her toes, eyes bright with the thrill of chaos. Zeke smiling widely. Even Lydia seemed more alive, a hint of color in her normally porcelain cheeks.

And Felix… Felix was watching me with those forest-green eyes that saw too much. His expression held no judgment, only understanding and something far more dangerous—an invitation. A dare to step further outside the carefully constructed boundaries I’d built around myself.

Damn it.

“We should get back. We have mission prep tomorrow,” I said.

It was the right call. The responsible one. The one that put the cause above personal wants. But I couldn’t deny the disappointment welling up inside of me.