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Chapter thirty-three

Annabella

A nnabella

The camp bed creaked like old bones under me as I shifted positions for the fifth time in an hour, the metal frame protesting every movement.

We’d converted the warehouse’s administrative offices a few months ago, gutted cubicles and installed basic furniture so we all had private space when operations ran long.

But these makeshift quarters were a far cry from my sanctuary at the loft, where I’d spent weeks weaving protection spells into the doorframe and positioning crystals at calculated intervals to create a web of magical security that let me sleep without nightmares.

This place felt exposed. Vulnerable.

My arm throbbed beneath the bandage, the flesh hot and tight where a ripper had torn into me.

The sharp bite of antiseptic couldn’t quite mask the copper-sweet scent of my own blood, and despite Zeke’s healing magic sealing the worst gashes, I could feel the tissue slowly knitting itself back together—a maddening itch I couldn’t scratch.

Above me, water stains mapped the ceiling like territories on some ancient battlefield. I traced their edges with restless eyes, my mind dissecting every moment of tonight’s attack. Cataloging mistakes. Identifying weak points. Planning how to avoid another ambush when we were this exposed.

Talia Johnson was secured in the containment room; the gang of addicts hadn’t made it that far.

After they’d cleared out, Zeke had patched us all up as much as possible.

We all wanted to get the mind-wipe done and get back to the loft.

But Lydia had run blood tests showing the Mentem Clypeus compound still present in Johnson’s system.

We’d have to wait another three hours before trying again.

Cleanup had progressed as far as we could manage tonight, and Duke was patrolling while the rest of us got some rest.

“Hex it all,” I snarled, driving my good fist into the thin mattress hard enough to make the frame shudder.

Damn the Wolf Council, sitting in their ivory towers, issuing useless proclamations while the ripple epidemic spread like wildfire.

Didn’t they know what was happening on the ground?

They were so fucking self-righteous with all their spiel about keeping the peace between the species and making sure we were all safe.

But this fucked-up mess with ripple was turning more humans against Shifters with each passing day.

How long before humans started a war and put us in cages? How long before they came for Ellie?

I couldn’t let that happen. We had to dismantle the Council, had to make it so Simon could operate freely without their interference or bans. Only then, could we make real progress against ripple.

My wolf stirred restlessly in the depths of my mind, sending me a flash of memory: Felix in his magnificent black form, powerful jaws ripping out the addict’s throat.

I’d seen Duke fight. I’d seen other Pack wolves in action.

But this… this was something else entirely.

Felix hadn’t just Shifted; he’d exploded into his wolf form with a violence and speed that defied everything I thought I knew about Shifting.

Most wolves took a couple of minutes, at least. Felix had done it in one heartbeat, bones snapping and reforming so fast it looked like magic.

And the way he’d moved in wolf form… Goddess help me, it was like watching Death incarnate.

Every motion calculated, efficient, lethal.

No wasted energy, no hesitation. Just pure predatory grace wrapped in midnight fur.

The ripper had been massive, pumped full of artificial rage and bloodlust, but Felix had taken him apart like he was nothing. Like he was born for this kind of violence.

My wolf stirred, responding to the remembered display of raw power in ways that made heat pool low in my belly. She wanted to roll over, show her throat, submit to this creature who’d just protected us with such devastating efficiency.

I pressed the heels of my palms against my closed lids until colors bloomed behind them. I was working so damn hard not to think about him, and my traitorous wolf kept acting like some smitten adolescent.

Duke had stopped Shifting around me months ago, recognizing my discomfort with Shifters in their wolf forms. Now he sought out local parks when his wolf demanded release, understanding that I couldn’t handle being around that kind of raw, primal energy.

But Felix… his wolf was beautiful. Black from head to toe, apart from a flick of silver at the end of his tail. I’d been in awe of the raw power contained in his muscled limbs and gleaming teeth.

I should have been terrified.

Instead, I’d been… mesmerized. Mesmerized and apprehensive.

My wolf stirred again.

Stay the fuck down!

I rolled onto my injured side, letting the sharp flare of pain from my torn arm cut through the haze of unwanted desire.

The agony helped focus my scattered thoughts, reminded me why I couldn’t afford these dangerous fantasies.

I needed to stop picking at this particular wound like fingers worrying a scab until it bled.

I needed sleep. Real rest before dawn brought new complications.

But sleep meant surrendering control. And in my dreams, the careful walls I’d built around my wolf always crumbled.

Neither Pack nor coven. The thought floated through my mind as exhaustion finally pulled me under.

I was running.

The warehouse corridors stretched endlessly before me, twisting and reshaping with each corner I turned. Footsteps echoed behind me—the purposeful strides of wolves hunting prey. Hunting me.

“Yo, witchy bitch,” Lucas’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. “Can’t run forever.”

Panic clawed at my throat as I pushed harder, lungs burning, but the corridor narrowed, the walls closing in. The reek of wet fur and savage hunger thickened the air until each breath tasted of violence.

“Show us what you really are,” Tara’s voice slithered through the darkness. “Show us the abomination you’ve been hiding.”

I hit the next corner too fast, feet skidding on the slick floor. My palm slammed against the wall to stop my momentum—

And that’s when I saw it.

My hand was Shifting. Fingers lengthening, bones cracking and reforming as razor-sharp claws punched through my fingertips.

No!

I willed the Shift to stop, fought to keep my human form, but my body wouldn’t obey. The transformation crawled up my arm like a living thing, unstoppable and wrong.

I burst through a door into a circular room and froze. In the center, a tiny form lay motionless on the cold floor.

Ellie.

My baby sister lay impossibly still, her dark curls spread like spilled ink. Those bright eyes that always sparkled with mischief were vacant, staring at nothing.

Her throat…

Oh, Goddess, her throat.

It was torn out just like the bloodlust addict’s. Raspberry-scented shampoo mixed with the copper tang of blood.

“NO!”

I tried to move, to go to her, but I was rooted to the spot, my limbs stuck in some spell.

Wolves padded into the room behind me, led by Lucas and Tara in their human forms, naked and grinning. They moved to surround me, cutting off any path to my sister’s broken body.

Lucas grinned, blood smeared across his face. “Your fault, Annabella. Witchy bitches are all abominations. You know that better than anyone. We did what we had to to protect our Pack.”

Tara raised her hand, blood sliding down her pale skin in thick rivulets. She brought her fingers to her mouth, tongue darting out to taste what remained there.

“Even her blood tastes wrong,” she said between licks. “Tainted. We couldn’t let that infection spread. At least we ended it quickly—more mercy than we ever showed you.”

“You’re fucking monsters,” I snarled, something wild and desperate clawing its way up from the depths of my chest.

“Us?” Lucas gestured at my frozen form with mock surprise. “Look at yourself, little witch.”

My head tilted down against my will.

My partially Shifted hands were covered in blood. Strands of black curly hair clung to my claws, matted with gore that caught the light like rubies. Hair that smelled of raspberry shampoo and lavender soap and summer sunshine.

Ellie’s hair. Ellie’s blood.

Horror engulfed me, and I swallowed down the burning bile that rose in my throat.

Had I done this? Had I killed my baby sister?

Lucas laughed.

Rage detonated in my chest like a bomb.

Fuck him. Fuck them all.

A howl of rage burst from me as I swiped my claws at his face.

His hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me.

“Annabella! Wake up!”

I lashed out blindly, feeling my claws slice through something solid. A sharp grunt of pain.

“Fucking hell, Annabella! It’s Felix! Wake up!”

Felix? I blinked, still in that awful room, then blinked again, to see Felix’s face hovering inches from mine. Three parallel slashes across his left cheek welled with fresh blood, deep enough that I could see the pale flash of bone beneath torn skin.

What the fucking hell was going on?