POV Avery
The fire’s crackling like it has personal beef with my sanity. Every spark feels like an interrogation light, every flicker screaming “liar” at my face. I’m staring into the flames, jaw locked tight enough to crack molars, when Joanna decides to completely destroy my night.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she says, settling beside me with that predatory grace that runs in our bloodline. “Which means either you’re planning something monumentally stupid, or something already went catastrophically wrong.”
Here’s the thing about Joanna—she’s got this freaky ability to read people’s emotions like a goddamn textbook. Not full-blown telepathy, but close enough to make lying to her basically impossible. Growing up taught her to survive by reading micro-expressions, heartbeat changes, scent shifts. She can smell deception from three territories away.
Which is why I’m completely fucked right now.
“The vampire got away,” I say, going for casual and probably missing by several continents.
“Did it now?” Joanna’s tone could flash-freeze lava. “How fascinating.”
“She’s fast.”
“You’re faster.”
“Apparently not fast enough.”
Joanna leans forward, eyes narrowing into that laser focus that means she’s about to psychologically dissect me. “You froze.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Avery. You froze.” Her voice carries absolute certainty. “Your pulse spiked when you said vampire. Your scent changed when you described the confrontation. And right now? You’re radiating confusion like a fucking beacon.”
I drag both hands through my hair, exhaling slowly. This conversation is heading straight into territory that could get me exiled or worse. “She was—unexpected.”
“Unexpected how?” Joanna’s smirk is pure predatory satisfaction. “You saw her. Really saw her.”
“She’s a vampire.”
“She’s something,” Joanna says, voice dropping to that dangerous whisper she uses when she’s about to demolish my entire worldview. “But you’re not scared of her fangs, are you? You’re scared because she looked at you like she knew exactly who you were.”
My jaw flexes involuntarily. Joanna can probably hear my heartbeat stuttering from here.
“She saw the part of you that you’ve been hiding from the pack. From Father. From yourself.”
“Drop it,” I snap, but my voice cracks like I’m fourteen again.
“The part that’s tired of being the perfect daughter. The part that wants something real instead of political arrangements and pack expectations.”
“Joanna—”
“The part that felt alive for the first time in years.”
“I’m not scared of her,” I mutter, standing abruptly. “I am just waiting for the perfect time.”
Joanna crosses her arms, expression shifting from concerned sister to pack interrogator. “Sure. Let’s pretend that’s all this is.”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because if I open my mouth right now, I’ll probably confess something that gets me mated to Bloodfang by sunrise.
Instead, I turn and walk into the woods, every step a small rebellion against the chaos in my head.
I don’t shift immediately. Just let the trees swallow me whole, let the night air cool my overheated skin. When I finally lean against a trunk and exhale, the sound comes out like a confession I’m not ready to make.
What the hell am I doing?
It’s not just that miss vampire escaped. It’s how she escaped. The way she melted into mist, whispering promises instead of threats. The way she didn’t try to kill me when she absolutely could have. It’s infuriating and distracting and something infinitely more dangerous than either.
My bones shift clean and fast—wolf form cutting through underbrush like liquid shadow. I don’t need directions. Every instinct is pulling me toward one specific place, and I’m not going there to win.
I’m going there to finish something I can’t even name.
The scent trail hits me before I reach the clearing—bloodless, sharp, like iron mixed with roses and bad decisions. My claws dig into earth, silent as death. My body moves on pure instinct while my mind stays trapped in yesterday’s disaster.
She hadn’t flinched when she saw me. She’d smirked. Like she’d been waiting.
I reach the clearing’s edge and stop. No moon tonight, just stars judging me from their cosmic perch. My wolf form shifts back, slow and deliberate. I stand there barefoot and weaponless, which is probably the stupidest thing I’ve done all week.
“Where are you, leech?” I mutter into the darkness.
Wind rustles leaves. No answer.
I step forward, inhaling deep. The trail’s faint but fresh, making my heart do this annoying stutter thing. Then—laughter. Soft, low, way too close.
I spin, eyes cutting through shadows. “Show yourself.”
Silence.
Another laugh, this one behind me. I whip around, hand instinctively reaching for a blade I didn’t bring. “Coward.”
“Flatter me more,” her voice purrs from everywhere and nowhere.
“You think you’re clever.”
“I think you came looking for me.”
I step into the clearing, every muscle coiled tight. “I came to drag you back to my pack.”
“And yet, here you are. Empty-handed. Again.”
“Keep talking. It’ll make breaking your jaw so much easier.”
“You don’t want to hurt me.”
“Don’t tell me what I want.”
“I’m just observing,” she says, voice silk and venom. “Based on the fact that you didn’t even try to kill me last time.”
“I hesitated. Big fucking deal.”
“You stared,” she says softly. “Like you were trying to decide whether to fight me or—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
Her laughter echoes from multiple directions. I have a blade in my hand before conscious thought kicks in. “Come out. Now.”
Mist swirls near the stone where we first met. She steps into view—slow, composed, like she hasn’t spent the last ten minutes making me question my sanity.
Her cloak catches starlight. Her smirk is pure smugness. My heart does that stuttering thing again.
“There you are,” she says, tilting her head.
“You talk too much.”
“You blush too easily.”
“I will shatter your jaw.”
“You’ll have to catch me first.”
I lunge. She vanishes like smoke. I curse, spinning wildly. “I’m not here to play games!”
“But you’re playing anyway,” she whispers directly into my ear.
I turn, blade raised, slicing through empty air. She’s standing a few feet away, looking amused.
“You’re not going to win like this,” she says.
This time I don’t lunge. I hold my ground, study her face. “What’s your name?”
She blinks, surprised. “Weird place to ask, but—” Her smile shifts into something more genuine. “Nice to meet you. I’m Natalie Nightshade.”
“Natalie,” I repeat, and the name feels dangerous on my tongue.
She steps closer. My breath catches. “You’re infuriating.”
“You’re obsessed.”
“Keep dreaming.”
“Oh, I do.”
We’re staring at each other now. What the hell is happening?”
“So,” she says softly, “are you going to finish what you came here for?”