Page 18

Chapter twelve

Annabella

A nnabella

I shouldered past him into the house, hating the wave of relief that washed over me when the door closed behind me, separating us.

The interior embraced me with warmth and familiar scents—cinnamon, fresh laundry, and the subtle notes of the lavender sachets my mother had always tucked into drawers.

Normal, comforting smells that gradually washed away the bitter taste Lucas’s presence had left in my mouth.

Ellie’s excited footsteps pattered down the hallway before I caught sight of her, a tiny tornado in purple overalls with mismatched socks.

“Bella!” she shrieked, launching herself at me with the full-body enthusiasm only toddlers possess.

I caught her mid-air, taking in the wild tangle of dark curls that framed her heart-shaped face.

She still had a milk tooth missing on the bottom right, leaving a gap she liked to poke her tongue through when concentrating.

My wolf instantly quieted as I breathed in her perfect scent of raspberry shampoo, lavender, and sunshine.

The knot in my chest loosened for the first time in days.

“Hey, monkey.” I spun her around, soaking in her giggles. “You’ve gotten bigger since last time.”

“Two inches!” She held up three fingers proudly. “Aunt Jo measured me on the wall.”

I set her down, but she immediately latched onto my leg like a koala.

“Where’s Aunt Jo?”

“Kitchen. Making magic cookies.” Ellie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, her tiny hand cupping around her mouth as she leaned in close enough that I could smell the apple juice on her breath. “We don’t tell Lucas they’re magic.”

My blood froze mid-circulation. Was my aunt actually letting Ellie use magic?

In a werewolf Pack house? With Lucas lurking outside?

If he caught even a hint that Ellie was developing witch abilities, the consequences would be catastrophic.

His tolerance—if you could call extortion that—only extended so far.

“What makes them magic, Ellie?” I kept my voice carefully casual, squatting down to her eye level while my heart raced.

“Extra chocolate chips.” She held up her fingers, wiggling them for emphasis. “And love.” She nodded with the solemn gravity only toddlers can achieve when imparting what they believe to be profound wisdom. “Aunt Jo says love is the most powerful magic of all.”

The relief hit me so hard that I nearly lost my balance.

“Those do sound like very special cookies,” I said, letting her grab my hand with sticky fingers.

She tugged me forward with surprising strength for someone barely reaching my hip, her mismatched socks—one purple with unicorns, one green with dinosaurs—sliding slightly on the hardwood floor as she led me toward the kitchen.

Aunt Jo was at the counter, her back to us as she worked dough with practiced hands.

Flour dusted her arms to the elbows and had somehow found its way into her vibrant red hair, leaving streaks of white through the copper.

She turned at our footsteps, and I caught the flicker of exhaustion in her eyes before she masked it with a warm smile.

The past year had aged her—new lines etched around her mouth, shadows beneath her eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights.

“There’s my second-favorite niece,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and winking at Ellie. “Right on time.”

“She means you, Bella! I’m her favorite!”

I scooped her up in one smooth motion, settling her on my hip, where she immediately wrapped her arms around my neck. Her dark curls tickled my nose, impossibly soft against my skin. “You’re everyone’s favorite, Ellie-belly.”

“Ellie, these cookies won’t decorate themselves,” Aunt Jo said, her voice taking on the gentle lilt she reserved only for my sister. “I could use my best assistant chef. Are you up for the job?”

“Yup, yup, YUP! I’m the bestest helper!”

I watched her scurry to the child-sized table in the kitchen corner—a recent addition since my last visit. The setup was perfect for her: tiny wooden chair, colorful plastic mixing bowls, and cookie cutters shaped like animals.

Aunt Jo and Uncle Fred had become unlikely revolutionaries in our fight against the Wolf Council.

They’d originally come to help my mother stage an intervention, to convince me to leave Simon Webster and return to the Pack.

Instead, Simon had turned his considerable charisma and persuasive powers on them, showing them evidence of Council corruption, painting vivid pictures of a world where witches and werewolves could coexist again.

Then, after Ellie was born and Mom got sick, they’d volunteered to come back here and look after them both. I knew they missed their own kids desperately. Knew they wanted to go back to see them, but it was too risky.

“How bad?” I kept my voice just above a whisper once Ellie was settled, happily pressing star-shaped cutters into cookie dough.

Aunt Jo’s face tightened. “Your mother had two seizures yesterday. Dr. Mitchell is concerned about the increasing frequency.” She glanced toward Ellie, who was happily squishing dough between her fingers. “Let’s talk after you see her.”

“Mama’s sleeping a lot,” Ellie announced without looking up, her small hands continuing their work. “She forgets stuff. Yesterday, she called me Bella.” She stated this without emotion, the same way she might observe that the sky was blue or that cookies were yummy.

Something twisted in my chest, a physical pain that made it hard to breathe. No four-year-old should be this familiar with illness.

“The Pack is talking.” Aunt Jo’s voice dropped even lower, forcing me to lean in to catch her words. “Some think it’s… unnatural.”

“What do you mean?”

She met my eyes, a shadow passing over her face. “There are whispers. That it’s… witch sickness.”

I frowned. “That’s not a thing.”

“Since when do facts matter to these wolves? They’re saying it’s punishment from the Moon Goddess for sleeping with a witch. That she’s being cleansed of her sin.” Her hands gripped the counter’s edge. “Lucas and Tara aren’t discouraging the talk.”

Of course he wasn’t. He’d probably started it.

Aunt Jo forced a bright smile as she turned to Ellie. “Why don’t you show Annabella what you made?”

“Oh! Oh!” She scrambled off her chair, tiny sock-clad feet slapping against the hardwood as she raced from the room. I could hear her thundering down the hallway, then back again, clutching something in her small fists.

“Look! It’s us!” She thrust a piece of construction paper toward me with the pride of a master artist unveiling their greatest work.

The drawing showed five stick figures standing in a row, holding hands beneath a yellow sun.

One figure—unmistakably me—had a distinctive silver streak drawn down its crayon hair.

“That’s you and me and Mama and Aunt Jo-Jo and Uncle Fred! ”

“This is amazing, Ellie. You drew all of us so well.” I studied the colorful figures, noting the careful attention to details only a child would notice—Aunt Jo’s red curls, Uncle Fred’s glasses, my mother’s smile. “And where are we in this picture? Is this our house?”

“At the magic house!” Her eyes lit up with the particular intensity only toddlers could manage. “It’s got curvy streets and lots of nice wolves. And there’s two little kids next door who’ll be my best friends forever and ever.” She pointed to tiny figures in the corner. “No mean people allowed.”

“It’s beautiful, monkey,” I managed, fighting the thickness in my throat. “I’ll keep it forever.”

“Look, Bella! Watch this!” Ellie set her drawing carefully aside, her expression shifting from excitement to intense concentration. She fixed her gaze on a small wooden fox figurine sitting on the kitchen table, her tiny brow furrowing with effort.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then the fox twitched—a subtle movement that might have been dismissed as imagination. But then it rocked decisively on its base, wobbling like a tooth about to fall.

“Ellie—” Aunt Jo began, warning in her voice. She didn’t finish the sentence because the fox suddenly slid across the polished wood surface as though pulled by invisible strings.

My blood crystallized in my veins. This wasn’t possible. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.

“Again!” Ellie clapped her hands, delighted with her success. The fox responded immediately, executing a perfect pirouette that no inanimate object should be capable of.

“How long?” I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper so cold I barely recognized it as my own.

“A few weeks,” Aunt Jo admitted, glancing nervously toward the windows as though Lucas might be peering in.

“Small things at first—making her toys rock, changing the color of her bath bubbles. Yesterday, she turned her red dress blue because, and I quote, ‘red is for angry days, and today is a happy blue day.’”

I stared at my baby sister, who was now making the fox dance in small circles while she giggled with delight. She would be five in a few months and she was already showing magical abilities that shouldn’t manifest yet.

In a Pack that barely tolerated her existence.

“Does Lucas know?” I asked.

“Goddess, no.” Aunt Jo’s fingers twisted anxiously in her apron. “We’re careful to only let her do it when he’s not around. But she’s getting stronger. It’s getting harder to hide.”

Fuck! What the hell was I going to do? Mom getting sicker, Ellie’s powers manifesting, Lucas holding them both hostage while I played revolutionary. Every day the Council was still operational was another day closer to war.

“I want to see Mom.”

The journey down the narrow hallway to my mother’s bedroom felt like traversing miles of hostile territory.

With each step, the scent of wrongness grew stronger—not the clean, sharp smell of normal illness, but something with an acrid, burned edge that made my wolf cower and whine.

Something that smelled like decay and electricity and foreign all at once.

I paused outside her door, drawing a steadying breath before turning the knob.

Mom lay propped against a mountain of pillows, the white linens making her skin look nearly translucent.

Her once-vibrant brown hair hung limp and dull around a face that had hollowed dramatically since my last visit.

But her eyes—those green eyes Ellie had inherited—were clear and focused today, lighting up when they found mine.

“Annabella.” Her voice was weak but warm. “You came.”

I crossed to the bed, perching carefully on its edge to avoid jostling her. I took her hand in mine, suppressing a flinch at how light it felt—bird-hollow bones wrapped in tissue-paper skin, so fragile I feared my grip might shatter her.

“How are you feeling?” I asked the most useless question in the world.

“Like I’ve been better,” she said with a ghost of her old humor. “But I have good moments. The morning medication helps.”

We talked quietly for a while—about Ellie, about the Pack, about anything except the real question hanging between us. What was causing this? How much time did she have left? What would happen to Ellie when she was gone?

When I finally stood to leave, I leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

Her skin felt too warm, fever-hot against my lips.

When I pulled back, I saw the fear lurking in her eyes—the unspoken terror that this might be our last goodbye.

The same fear that lived in my chest, growing stronger with each visit.

She squeezed my hand with surprising strength. “Take care of our girl,” she whispered. Not a request—a final directive.

I nodded, unable to speak past the knot in my throat.

I sat in my car afterward, the engine idling as I stared unseeing through the windshield. Ellie’s drawing lay on the passenger seat, those stick figures with their simple happiness mocking me with their impossibility. My entire body vibrated with a fury so intense it bordered on madness.

This was why the Council had to fall. Why the entire system needed to be obliterated and rebuilt from its foundation.

The Council’s ban on witches had created a world where my sister would be hunted.

Their policies had forced us to rely on monsters like Lucas for protection.

Their corruption had left my mother dying from a mysterious illness while Pack members whispered about divine punishment.

I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, the pain barely registering. Every Council member I’d taken down, every memory I’d erased, every small victory against Simon’s enemies—it all meant nothing if I couldn’t protect the two people who mattered most.

I put the car in drive, gravel crunching beneath the tires as I pulled away. I had work to do. A Council to destroy. A revolution to complete before time ran out.

Whatever was happening with Felix… that complication would have to wait. The strange pull I felt toward him was a distraction I couldn’t afford right now.

Even if, beneath the fury and determination, a small treacherous part of me was already looking forward to seeing him again.