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Chapter six

Annabella

I found Felix on the loft’s eastern balcony at half past midnight, leaning against the railing with a beer in hand. The city lights of Kansas City spread out below us, a maze of amber streetlights and neon signs that never quite managed to chase away the darkness between buildings.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked without turning around.

Great. My insomnia now comes with a side of brooding pretty boy on the balcony. Just what I needed.

“Mira’s been tossing and turning for the last two hours. I can hear it through the walls.”

“Gethin really got to her.”

“Yeah.” I gripped the metal railing tighter than necessary.

Felix took a long pull from his beer, then glanced at me sideways. “You know what we should do about that?”

“What?”

“Make him pay.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Felix’s grin was pure trouble. “I’m suggesting we remind Mr. Gethin that actions have consequences. Nothing permanent, nothing that would bring heat down on us. Just a little… creative justice.”

I studied his face in the dim light, pieces clicking into place. “You’re talking about breaking into his place.”

“I’m talking about defending our Pack.”

Something twisted in my chest at the word “Pack.” I’d never really had one, not truly. The Ashridge Pack had tolerated me, at best, and Webster’s coven saw me as useful but never as one of them. But this team… they were the closest thing to belonging I’d ever found.

“I did some reconnaissance after we got back. Gethin lives in one of those overpriced lofts in Crossroads. Third floor, corner unit. Probably has basic security; nothing we can’t handle.”

“And then what?”

Felix’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I was thinking something… aromatic.”

I couldn’t help it—I snorted. “Aromatic?”

“Trust me on this one, Moonbeam. Sometimes, the best revenge is the kind that keeps on giving.”

I stared out into the city, weighing up the risks to our mission if we did this.

“Come on,” Felix pressed. “When’s the last time you did something just for the hell of it? Something that wasn’t about the mission or the cause or saving the world?”

Never. The honest answer was never. Every decision I made was calculated, measured against Webster’s expectations or Ellie’s future or the team’s safety. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something purely because I wanted to. And I really wanted Gethin to pay for scaring Mina.

“This is stupid,” I said.

“Probably.”

“Reckless.”

“Definitely.”

“If we get caught—”

“We won’t.”

“Fine,” I heard myself say. “But we do this my way. Clean, professional, no unnecessary risks.”

Felix’s grin returned, bright enough to rival the city lights. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Forty minutes later, I was questioning every life choice that had led me to this moment.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this,” I whispered as we crouched on the fire escape outside Gethin’s building.

“Because the bear deserves it,” Felix replied, checking his lock picks. “And because Zeke’s mixture is going to make his apartment smell like a fishy swamp for weeks.”

I hefted the small cloth bag Zeke had prepared for us. Even through the fabric, the smell was potent. “What exactly is in this?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Probably not.”

Felix had been right about the building’s security—basic alarm system, standard locks, nothing that would challenge anyone with actual skills. Gethin’s corner unit had large windows facing the street, but the fire escape gave us access to a smaller window that probably led to a bathroom or bedroom.

I pressed my ear to the glass, listening for any sounds from inside. Nothing. We’d checked the garage before coming up here, and his car was nowhere to be seen.

The window had a basic magnetic contact sensor: two pieces that created a closed circuit when the window was shut.

“What do you think? Thirty seconds to bypass before the alarm triggers once we open it?”

“If that.” I pulled out my portable signal jammer, a piece of tech Mira had modified for exactly this kind of work. “The system’s older than I thought. Probably installed when the building went up and never updated. No cellular backup.”

Felix worked on the window lock while I positioned the jammer near the sensor. I found myself watching the play of muscles in his forearms as he worked.

Focus, Annabella.

“How’s the lock coming?”

“Almost… there.” The window slid open with barely a whisper of sound. “After you, Moonbeam.”

The magnetic contact separated, but my jammer was already spoofing the signal to the control panel, making it think the window remained closed. We had a limited window before the system would detect the interference.

I slipped through the window into what turned out to be a bathroom. Expensive tiles, designer fixtures, all chosen to impress.

Where was the keypad? It should be near the front entry, but we needed to find it before—

There. Mounted on the wall in the hallway, its small red LED display glowing like an angry eye in the darkness. The system was armed, but our entry point wasn’t triggering any alarms—yet.

Adrenaline sharpened everything to crystal clarity.

The soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

The distant sound of traffic three stories below.

The faint scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air.

Simon had trained me well in the technical aspects of infiltration, though I doubted he’d approve of using those skills for petty revenge.

The rush of it surprised me—this electric thrill of dancing on the edge between success and catastrophe. Every second that ticked by brought us closer to discovery, but instead of freezing me with fear, it made everything sharper, clearer, more alive.

Thirty seconds. Twenty.

“Timer’s running,” Felix murmured from behind me.

“Not helping.”

Ten seconds. Five.

The panel beeped once, softly, as the override code took. System disarmed, at least temporarily.

“We’re in,” I breathed, surprised by the rush of satisfaction that followed. When had breaking and entering become so… thrilling?

Felix moved past me as I finished with the control panel, but in my focused state, I stepped back at the same moment he stepped forward. We collided in the doorway, his chest against my back, his hands automatically coming up to steady me as I stumbled.

For a moment, we were pressed together, his chest solid against my back, his hands gripping my waist with unexpected strength.

My body registered every point of contact like electrical currents—the heat of him seeping through my clothes, the slight roughness of his palms against my skin where my shirt had ridden up, the hard planes of his chest against my shoulder blades.

His breath caressed my ear, carrying the intoxicating scent of wood smoke and lime that made something primal stir deep inside me. My suppressed wolf perked up, interested.

“Easy there,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a rough growl that vibrated through me. His thumbs traced small, unconscious circles against my hipbones, and for one wild moment, I imagined those hands sliding lower, pulling me harder against him.

Heat bloomed across my skin, starting at my cheeks and spreading downward like wildfire.

The darkness hid my reaction, but nothing could hide the way my pulse quickened or the sudden shortness of my breath.

Could he smell the change in my scent? The thought intensified the warmth pooling low in my belly.

“Keep moving,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly husky. I stepped away from the warmth of his body, immediately missing the contact even as I cursed myself for the weakness.

I had to focus on the mission, not on Felix’s hands.

Gethin’s apartment was exactly what I’d expected—expensive furniture, expensive but ugly abstract art, and a bar cart stocked with top-shelf liquor. Everything designed to show how successful and important he was.

“Heating vent?” I asked.

Felix pointed toward the main living area. “There, by the entertainment center. Central air will carry it through the whole place.”

I approached the vent, pulling out a screwdriver to remove the cover. That’s when I sensed it—a faint shimmer in the air, like heat waves rising from summer pavement.

“Felix, stop.”

He froze mid-step. “What?”

“Magical barrier. Someone warded this place.” I extended my senses, trying to map the edges of the spell. “It’s not just an alarm system. There’s active magic protecting the apartment. Probably set up to cover the safe and the artwork, but he was too cheap to get it to cover all the entrances.”

“Can you break it?”

“Maybe. But if I trigger it, it could set off more than just an alarm.” I studied the ward structure, recognizing some of the patterns. “This is professional work. Expensive.”

“How long do we have if you trip it?”

“Depends on what kind of response it’s designed to summon. Could be anything from a silent alert to full magical lockdown.”

Felix was quiet for a moment, processing. “Your call. We can abort if it’s too risky.”

I looked around Gethin’s perfect apartment, thought about Mira’s pale face and shaking hands, remembered the ugly promise in his voice when he’d threatened her.

“Fuck it,” I muttered. “The bear deserves it.”

I heard Felix laugh as I pressed my palms against the ward barrier, feeling for weak points in the magical structure. The spell was well-constructed but not impenetrable. A focused burst of will…

The barrier gave way with a small pop. Immediately, a soft chime echoed through the apartment; definitely an alarm of some kind.

“Someone’s going to respond to that,” I said, rushing toward the heating vent.

Felix was already at the window, peering down at the street. “Patrol drone incoming from the south. Looks automated, but it’s moving fast.”

I yanked the vent cover free and stuffed Zeke’s aromatic surprise as far back into the ductwork as I could reach. The smell that wafted out made my eyes water.

“Holy shit!”

Felix moved away from the window. “Drone’s almost here. We need to go.”

A light clicked on in the apartment across the courtyard.

“Now would be good,” Felix added.

We made it back to the bathroom just as the patrol drone’s searchlight swept across the main windows. I could hear its rotors whirring as it circled the building, probably scanning for thermal signatures or signs of forced entry.

“The drone’s going to pick up our heat signatures,” I whispered.

“Not if we give it something else to look at.” Felix pulled out what looked like a small metal disc from his pocket. “Thermal decoy. It’ll simulate a heat signature for five people for about five minutes before it burns out.”

“Where did you—?”

“Questions later, escape now.”

He activated the device, leaned out, and tossed it onto the landing of the fire escape three stories down. I held my breath as the drone’s attention shifted, its searchlight sweeping toward the decoy.

“Up,” Felix whispered, pointing toward the roof access ladder. “We go up and over.”

We climbed as quietly as possible, the metal rungs cold against my palms. Below us, the drone continued circling, its searchlight focused on the thermal signature Felix had left behind.

The roof sprawled before us, a dark canvas of gravel and mechanical units. Distant sirens wailed; someone had called security. We needed to move.

Felix grabbed my wrist, pulling me into the shadow of a massive air handler as a spotlight swept across the building’s edge. “This way.”

We sprinted from shadow to shadow, gravel crunching beneath our boots. My heart hammered against my ribs, every sense heightened—the smell of tar paper, the taste of adrenaline, the rush of blood in my ears.

Felix moved like he’d been born on these rooftops, weaving between vents and ducking under pipes without breaking stride. I matched him step for step, surprised by how easily we fell into rhythm.

He skidded to a halt at the building’s edge, peering across a yawning gap. The adjacent rooftop loomed fifteen feet away— fifteen feet of nothing but night air and a sixty-foot drop to the pavement below.

“Can you make that?” His voice was low, urgent.

I stared across the chasm. The distant rooftop wavered in the darkness, a concrete island impossibly far away. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, muscles coiling with ancient instinct.

Sure, leaping between buildings in the dark. What could possibly go wrong?

“Piece of cake,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry.

Felix’s eyes caught mine, flashing with something wild. “Together, then.”

“Together.”

We backed up three paces. My body tensed as I calculated angles and trajectories.

“Now!” Felix shouted.

We launched ourselves across the abyss. For one breathless moment, I was flying—suspended between buildings, between heartbeats, between who I was and who I could be.

Then the opposite roof rushed up to meet us. I hit hard, rolling to absorb the impact, gravel biting into my palms. Felix landed beside me in a perfect crouch, already scanning for our next route.

“Nice,” he said, offering me his hand.

I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. Our fingers lingered together a beat too long.

The next gap was wider. The jump after that, steeper. Each leap sent a jolt of pure electricity through my veins. We vaulted air conditioning units, scaled utility ladders, and slid down sloped surfaces.

Felix navigated the urban maze with uncanny precision, always finding the perfect path—a foothold here, a ledge there, a shadowed corner to catch our breath. As if he’d mapped this escape route long before tonight.

Six blocks and eight rooftops later, we finally stopped. The sound of pursuit had faded into the normal rhythm of the city. My chest heaved, lungs burning. A thin sheen of sweat cooled on my skin despite the chill night air.

“Okay, so that was fucking awesome,” Felix whispered, his face split with a grin I couldn’t help but mirror.

My whole body hummed with adrenaline and something else—something I hadn’t felt in years. Power. Freedom. Joy. I wanted to laugh, to howl, to throw my head back and scream into the night.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt completely, utterly alive.