POV Natalie
When Lira’s voice cuts through my door like a blade through silk, my first thought is: She knows about the kiss.
My second thought is: I’m completely fucked.
“Natalie. My office. Now.”
I’ve been dreading this conversation for three days. Three days of replaying that moment on the cliff, Avery’s mouth against mine, the way I dissolved into mist like some lovesick teenager instead of a centuries-old killing machine. If Lira found out I’ve been making out with wolves instead of capturing them, I’ll be watching sunrise from the inside of a coffin by tomorrow night.
I knock once and enter. Lira’s behind her desk, fingers steepled, expression unreadable. The good news? She’s not holding a stake. The bad news? She’s not holding anything, which means her hands are free to strangle me.
“Sit,” she says, voice deceptively calm.
I sit. Try to look like someone who definitely hasn’t been tongue-wrestling with the enemy.
“How much longer?” she asks without preamble.
My brain short-circuits. “How much longer for what?”
“To bring me a wolf, Natalie. How much longer until you complete the one task that stands between you and permanent exile?”
Relief floods my system so hard I almost laugh. She doesn’t know. This is just about my spectacular failure rate, not my spectacular kissing rate.
“Soon,” I say, going for confident. “Very soon. I’ve been tracking several targets, narrowing down the best options.”
“Several targets.” Her tone could freeze hellfire. “How refreshingly vague.”
“I want to make sure I bring you the right one. Someone valuable. Someone worth the wait.”
Lira leans back, studying me like I’m a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Interesting timing, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s going to be a summit.”
I blink. “A what now?”
“Peace talks. Between our coven and the Shadowmere Pack.” She says it like she’s announcing someone’s funeral. “Centuries of war, and suddenly everyone wants to play nice.”
My stomach drops into my boots. “Peace talks?”
“Shocking, I know. Apparently some brilliant political minds think we can all sit around a table and pretend we haven’t been trying to murder each other since the dawn of time.” Her smile is sharp enough to cut glass. “Naturally, we need a representative.”
“You?”
“Me? Oh, darling, no. I’ll be sending someone younger. Someone who can relate to their… perspective.”
The pieces click together with the sound of my doom approaching at light speed. “You want me to go.”
“I want you to go, yes. And while you’re there, chatting about territorial boundaries and hunting agreements, perhaps you could accomplish that little task we discussed?”
“Capture a wolf.”
“Capture a wolf. At a peace summit. In front of both our leadership councils.” Her grin turns predatory. “Think of it as a dramatic finale to the negotiations.”
I stare at her, wondering if this is what cardiac arrest feels like for vampires. “That seems… counterproductive to the whole peace thing.”
“Peace is boring, Natalie. War is profitable. And you need redemption.” She stands, moving around the desk to loom over me. “This is perfect. You’ll have access to their entire pack hierarchy. Just pick one and bring them home.”
The image of Avery flashes through my mind—sitting at some negotiation table, probably looking gorgeous and dangerous and completely unaware that I’m supposed to betray her in the most public way possible.
“What if the talks are genuine?” I ask, because apparently I have a death wish. “What if this could actually work?”
Lira laughs, and it sounds like breaking glass. “Oh, sweet child. There’s no such thing as peace between predators. There’s only the space between hunts.”
She moves back to her desk, dismissing me with a wave. “You leave tomorrow night. Don’t disappoint me, Natalie. I’d hate to have to make an example of you.”
I stand on shaking legs. “And if I refuse?”
“Then you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
I’m halfway to the door when she speaks again.
“Oh, and Natalie? Wear something dramatic. If you’re going to destroy a peace treaty, you might as well look good doing it.”
The door closes behind me with a soft click that sounds like a coffin lid.
I lean against the wall in the hallway, trying to process what just happened. A peace summit. Where I’m supposed to capture a wolf—probably the wolf I’ve been kissing instead of capturing—in front of everyone who matters.
This is either going to be the political scandal of the century or the shortest peace treaty in supernatural history.
Knowing my luck? Probably both.
I push off the wall and head back to my quarters, mind already racing. I need to warn her. Need to figure out how to get us both out of this without starting an actual war.
Because if Lira thinks I’m going to drag Avery back in chains after everything that’s happened between us, she’s about to learn exactly how defective this Nightshade really is.
The summit’s in two days.
Time to figure out how to save a peace treaty, protect a wolf, and avoid getting myself killed in the process.