Page 8

RAY

“ T he wild one,” Sammy says, shaking his head. “Charge on in. What, you think you’re Raul? You charged in there like a goddamn maniac. You’re lucky you got away with just a smack.”

I have to take his shit—because he’s not wrong. That’s what pisses me off the most.

I lost it. No strategy. No patience. Just reckless, raw impulse.

I saw Stacy with that jackass and my blood boiled.

Instead of walking away and letting it cool down, I let it spill over and the wolf surged.

Even then I should have stopped it, but I didn’t.

I let my wolf’s impulse to dominate take over.

And Stacy was pissed.

That calm, gentle gaze—full of possibility—vanished in a blink. Snapped like a dry twig underfoot. How am I supposed to blame her?

I can’t stop replaying it. The way her eyes narrowed, her body stiffened, and the warmth drained from her face like I’d slapped her soul.

I hadn’t just scared her—I’d betrayed something between us. Something that I hadn’t even had the courage to name.

I pretend to focus on the alternator, but I’m really just waiting for Sammy’s next dig. And sure enough…

“You sure that’s the right screw, genius?” Sammy asks, not even bothering to look up.

I glance down. Damn it—wrong again.

You charged in there like a goddamn maniac…

“Not now, Sam,” I mutter.

“Then when?” he snaps, looking up. His usually soft brown eyes are sharp, unforgiving. “You think everyone’s just going to forget what you did? The risk of it? Not only did you make a scene, you embarrassed all of us. And don’t get me started on how much you scared her.”

I flinch. That last comment lands hardest. Stacy.

It’s been three days and in every one of them Sam has made it his personal mission to remind me of what a jackass I was. Every misplaced tool, every minor mistake—he pounces, tying it all back to North Haven like it’s the goddamn Rosetta Stone of failure.

I’ve given him grief too—it’s what brothers do. But when I do it, it comes with a smirk. A laugh. A jab that lands soft. Sammy’s throwing punches, and isn’t pulling back. Sam’s definitely not laughing, and neither is Raul.

Raul, I thought he would understand. He set the tone, didn’t he? He lost it on Monica’s ex, but fat fucking chance. He doesn’t tease me or snap, but he won’t look me in the eye. His disappointment cuts deeper than Sammy’s sniping anger ever could.

And Monica? Hell, she used to welcome me with hugs, laughter, and invitations to dinner. Now it’s a cold nod, if that. A polite smile stretched too thin to be real. A smile that cracks around the edges when she notices me looking. All that welcoming warmth is gone.

I apologized. Twice. Said everything I thought might matter. Told them I was sorry for storming that mansion, for putting Stacy on the spot, for not thinking it through.

Problem is they don’t want apologies. They want me to be someone else. Someone better.

Raul says I should’ve controlled myself—like I wasn’t acting on instincts he has every bit as much as I do. Monica said I shouldn’t have been there at all. That I wasn’t invited. They’re both right, but that doesn’t make their baleful silence any easier to bear.

“I’m done for the day,” I say, tossing the carburetor onto the bench and walking away.

Sam says something, but I don’t hear it and don’t care. It’s Friday and I’ve had enough. Their judgment clings like a noose—tightening every time I breathe. I grab my keys and get in the truck. In moments I’m leaving behind Dawson and the suffocating tension that clings to the air in town.

I need space. I need peace. Not the chaos of people, but the raw hum of nature—something real, something wild. So I drive east, toward the place that’s always been mine.

I hear it when I’m close. A soft roar that grows as I descend the forty-five slope. The truck grumbles louder as the trees close in like old friends welcoming me back. The road bends, and there it is—Venus River. Wide. Alive. Untamed.

A silver ribbon cutting through the night, wild and free. The current rushes past jagged rocks, glinting silver beneath the moonlight. The scent of damp earth and evergreen hits me, grounding me in the moment. Mist clings to the low branches like a whispered secret.

I park and kill the engine, then walk to the edge. My boots sink into the soft dirt, and for the first time all week, I breathe easier.

“Always the charmer,” I whisper, gazing out across the water.

Then the wind shifts and a rustle across the way draws my attention. My body tenses, instincts kicking in—not fear, but curiosity. A shape moves between the trees, graceful, deliberate. Then the figure steps into view.

Helena.

She parts the foliage like it obeys her. Her eyes flash crimson in the moonlight. Leaves slide off her cloak as if the forest itself parts to let her through. Her presence is as undeniable as the river itself. With a tap of her staff, she vanishes, then reappears at my side.

“It is charming, isn’t it?” she says, her voice thick with appreciation. “That’s the good thing about snow. When it melts, it gives life back.”

I nod, holding back my reservations at her sudden appearance.

“It’s good to see you again,” I say.

She crouches in a fluid movement that is almost feline.

“Lots of people have been asking about you,” I add. “Why did you vanish?”

“I’m not one for public praise,” she replies bluntly. “I know they love me. I don’t need to see it put on display. I’m not royalty, Raymond. I’m a witch who did what needed to be done.”

“I think more than a few people would call that humble,” I chuckle.

“What about you? I expected to find you in wolf form. Your brothers are always running wild,” she says, tilting her head and studying me.

I exhale, staring at the river’s edge.

“My wolf’s done enough damage lately.”

“Ah, North Haven,” she says and I nod. “I spoke with Monica. Not your finest hour.”

“You’re being generous,” I mutter. A shimmer catches my eye—a smooth stone near the bank. Funny how despite my being in the middle of regret, nature has time for beauty.

“I screwed up big time.”

“You men confuse me.” Her voice shifts, tone sharper now. “Monica told me some about you and Stacy. You rejected her. Days ago. Then you crash a party and act like you’ve got a claim? What changed?”

“Instinct,” I say immediately, but it feels hollow the second it leaves my lips.

She scoffs. “You say that like it absolves you.”

“It’s the truth,” I say, defensively.

“No, it’s a shield,” she says. “I’ve known your kind for centuries. The beast doesn’t act unless the man wants it too.”

I look at her, startled. “What are you saying?”

“You know exactly what I’m saying,” she snaps. “The wolf didn’t hijack you. You let him take the wheel because you craved the same thing.”

My chest tightens.

“Maybe,” I admit, voice hoarse. “I guess…I…I like her. More than I want to. She’s…young. Beautiful. Sharp. And she doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

“She’s also heading back to Dawson,” Helena says, and the softness in her voice catches me off guard. “Right now along with Erica, but they’re not going to make it there easily.”

I straighten up. “What do you mean?”

She reaches into her cloak and pulls out her orb. The familiar swirl of darkness glows faintly as it spins in her lap. Her hand hovers above it, fingers barely touching. A moment later, the image forms.

I see Erica’s car winding along a narrow road. The forest presses close on either side. The road curves sharply, treacherously. Then—headlights flare and illuminate a massive tree trunk that lies across the road, its branches tangled against the guardrail like skeletal fingers.

The BMW slows. Taillights flash. They’re stuck.

“They’ll be fine, right?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Helena doesn’t reply.

Instead, she asks, “So. What’s it going to be, Raymond? Keep pretending this is just about the wolf? Or admit the truth?”

The weight of her words hangs in the air. Suddenly, it’s not about instinct. It’s not even about Stacy. It’s about me—facing what I’ve buried, and finally owning it.

I rise to my feet. I don’t speak because the decision is made. Helena smiles faintly, as if she’s seen this outcome all along.

“Go,” she says. “They’ll need more than a fire department tonight.”

I nod once. “Thanks.”

The river continues its imperturbable rush as I stride back to the truck. The night air wraps around, electric and alive. I feel the change, but it’s not in the way I’m used to. This is different because it’s in my heart.

This isn’t about saving her—it’s about showing her she matters. No more hiding behind the wolf. No more excuses. Just truth.

It’s about being the man who deserves her. And this time, I’m not going to screw it up.