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Chapter fourteen

Annabella

I punched the access code into the keypad, my split knuckles leaving bloody smears on the numbers. The door slid open with a pneumatic hiss that felt like needles against my raw nerves.

Witch’s fangs, I was furious. At Calloway, for slipping through our fingers. At myself for not anticipating his flash bomb. At the whole fucking situation that left us empty-handed while a Council enforcer walked free.

The scent of our loft hit me—layers of comfort that usually soothed me.

The earthy richness of Zeke’s herbs growing in the windowsill garden, the worn leather from Duke’s workout equipment, the artificial vanilla from Mira’s energy drinks she mainlined like water, the lingering coffee from this morning.

Home base. Our sanctuary. Tonight, though, the comforting scents were overlaid with the sharp tang of blood, sweat, and anger.

Duke had somehow beaten me back, his dark eyes scanning for threats as he guarded the doorway. He tracked my movements, cataloging my injuries with that silent concern he’d never voice aloud.

Zeke entered behind me, supporting Mira with an arm around her shoulders. Her tiny frame looked more fragile against his lanky height, her face ashen. The sight of her stumbling twisted something in my chest—she’d hit the concrete hard when I’d shoved her out of Calloway’s reach.

“Stop hovering,” she muttered, pushing Zeke’s hands away. “I’m fine.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” I rounded on her, weeks of frustration and three days of simmering rage since my latest visit to Ashridge focusing into a laser point. My voice came out sharper than I’d intended, but fuck it—we needed this conversation.

She lifted her chin. “I was thinking I’m tired of sitting behind screens while everyone else gets to have fun.”

“Fun?” I stepped closer, pulling my jacket aside to reveal the knife wound still seeping blood through my torn shirt. “You think this is fun? You nearly got yourself killed—got all of us killed—because you wanted some action?”

“Annabella—” Zeke started, but I cut him off with a look.

“No. She needs to hear this.” I turned back to Mira.

“You’re human, going up against highly trained Shifters and witches.

You’re barely five feet tall and, on a good day, weigh maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet.

You’re our tech specialist. That means you stay safe, monitor communications, and keep our digital footprint clean.

It doesn’t mean you leap into a knife fight with the Wolf Council’s most dangerous enforcer. ”

“I helped,” she said stubbornly. “I got a good hit on his knee.”

“You nearly got yourself gutted.” The memory of Calloway’s blade slicing toward her stomach flashed behind my eyes, making my hands shake.

If I’d been half a second slower… I couldn’t lose Mira, couldn’t lose any of my crew.

They were the closest thing I had to Pack.

“And when you’re injured or dead, we lose our eyes and ears.

Then we’re all fucked. You want more excitement?

Learn to fight properly first. Until then, you stay behind the computers. ”

Mira’s face flushed red, but she didn’t argue, just stomped over to her workstation.

Lydia glided in next, not a hair out of place in her immaculate updo. No blood. No sweat. No evidence she’d been in the same fight as the rest of us. Magic always left her smelling like ozone and ancient tomes—pristine and untouchable, even in chaos.

Felix arrived last, shoulders relaxed, expression neutral. I knew his eyes caught everything, though—exits, weapons, the tension in the room. Something about his controlled calm after our clusterfuck of a mission set me on edge.

My wolf snarled inside of me.

Let me out!

It was a wave of heat and pressure rising from my core.

I clenched my jaw, fighting back the surge of primal energy threatening to boil over.

I needed release before my wolf clawed through my control and forced a Shift.

It had happened before, and I refused to let it happen again—especially in front of the team.

I felt my insides ripple, the first warning sign of a Shift taking hold.

Fuck this.

I slammed my already damaged fist into the concrete wall, channeling every ounce of rage and frustration into it.

The impact sent shock waves up my arm. Concrete cracked; blood sprayed from already split knuckles. The pain flared bright and immediate, giving my wolf something else to focus on. The pressure inside me vanished instantly.

“Hex it all, Annabella.” Zeke winced, already moving toward his med kit. “Break bones like that, and one day they might not knit back together right.”

“It’ll heal,” I muttered, flexing my bloodied hand and watching skin close over raw flesh in that unnatural way that marked me as something other. My wolf had retreated, and I was back in control. That was all that mattered.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Felix taking a half-step forward before stopping himself. When I glanced his way, his jaw was tight, hands fisted at his sides. Something unreadable flashed across his face—concern, maybe? Or disgust at the display?

Duke shifted his weight, positioning himself between me and Felix, his eyes flicking between my bleeding knuckles and the knife wound I was still ignoring.

“I’m fine,” I snapped before he could speak.

“Yeah, right.” Zeke stepped forward with his medical bag. “I can sense from here that knife went deeper than you’re pretending. Let me look.”

He waited—didn’t touch, didn’t push. Just stood there with that steady patience that made him such a good field medic and one of the few people I actually trusted.

“Fine.” I shrugged out of my torn jacket, hissing as dried blood pulled at the wound.

From his position by the wall, Felix’s knuckles had gone white where they gripped his crossed arms. His breathing was too controlled, too measured, like he was fighting some internal battle. His eyes never left me, and something about that intensity made my skin prickle with awareness.

“System secure,” Mira announced from her workstation. “No digital footprint. Traffic cams wiped in an eight-block radius. 97.2% probability we weren’t followed.”

Zeke guided me to a stool, his touch feather-light on torn skin, the sharp scent of witch hazel strong as he began cleaning the wound.

“We’ve been pushing hard,” he murmured, voice low enough that only I could hear. “Everyone’s frustrated with the lack of progress, but we need to see the big picture. You need to focus on the end goals.”

My muscles tensed beneath his fingers. “No, we haven’t been pushing hard enough. They’ve been getting away with this shit for too long.”

“Hard to believe a Council enforcer took out six of us,” Duke said. “Especially when we brought in extra muscle specifically to avoid situations like this.”

Felix straightened from his casual lean against the wall. “If we’re comparing failures, let’s talk about how you charged Calloway head-on like some attack dog with no strategy.”

“At least I engaged the target instead of—”

“Enough,” I snapped, pushing to my feet despite Zeke’s protest about my half-closed wound. “We failed. All of us. Now we figure out why and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

I stalked toward the board pinned up on the far wall, red Xs marking Council members we’d already processed. My eyes locked on Gideon Calloway’s photo—that casual stance hiding lightning reflexes, watchful eyes that had somehow anticipated our every move.

“Not bad,” he’d said.

“He’s completely dark,” Mira said. “Dropped off all surveillance two minutes after clearing the alley. Running every algorithm I’ve got, but…” She paused. “Maybe ten point four percent chance of success tracking him.”

I nodded, unsurprised. Enforcers like Calloway didn’t stay visible unless they wanted to be. So, how the hell did we find him in the first place?

“Keep looking. Cross-reference known Council safe houses, check for pattern disruptions in the city grid.”

I turned to Lydia, who was arranging crystal vials on her workbench. “Did you get anything from him when the spell was working?”

Her elegant fingers touched a vial containing drops of crimson. “I’m not sure yet. There was a taste to him, something new. I’ll need to meditate on it, perhaps run a few spells to see if I can amplify it.”

Something in her tone made me pause—a hunger that had been growing stronger with each spell she cast.

“Do what you can,” I said.

“Of course.” Lydia’s voice carried that ice-cold control she always maintained. “Though I must say, I’m concerned about tonight’s operation. There seemed to be some… distraction in your tactical decisions.”

I turned on my heel to face her. Around the room, conversations died as everyone tuned into the sudden tension.

“Excuse me?”

“The target escaped because we were unprepared for his capabilities. Perhaps the stress of leadership is affecting your judgment? This crew needs consistency from their commander.”

“My judgment is fine,” I said, each word precisely enunciated.

Lydia’s smile was razor thin. “I’m simply concerned that recent… changes in team dynamics might be creating blind spots. We can’t afford distractions when the stakes are this high.”

She didn’t look at Felix; that would have been too obvious even for Lydia, but we all knew that was what she meant. I was allowing myself to be distracted by the shiny new pretty boy on the team.

“There are no distractions. But if you want to challenge for my job, go right ahead; we’ll see who comes out on top.”

“Of course not,” she said softly. “I hope you know I only want what’s best for the team. Sometimes, an outside perspective can help identify issues we’re too close to see.”

I met her gaze steadily. “Noted.”

The room fell silent except for the hum of Mira’s equipment and the distant sound of traffic far below.

“Get some rest,” I said to them all. “We’ll debrief in the morning.”

One by one, they retreated to their quarters or stations. Duke lingered, clearly wanting to talk, but I gave him a slight head shake. Not now.