Chapter 3
Leif tilted his head, a snarl chiseled onto his face. He was draped in shadow and leather, his blonde bun shiny and slicked, no strand out of place, and his bright eyes were dark with bad intentions—like a twisted mirror of his dark-haired, smirking brother.
He stared directly at me with bloodthirsty purpose, the way a predator stakes out its prey.
I drew in a tight inhale, the air heavy, harsh on my lungs.
Maybe he’d signed a deal with the devil again, maybe this was revenge for escaping the first time, or maybe this was hatred for tempting his brother away from their ruthless syndicate—although, it’s not like I’d really succeeded at that.
But from the way his gaze stayed fixed on my face when he dipped his starlit jaw, reached over that muscular shoulder, and pulled an arrow out of his quiver…
I knew he was here for me.
Did that mean…? I gulped, my throat burning with terror. Did that mean Ryder was here, too? My chest ached as if it’d already been punctured.
In one breath, I might see him. In one breath, he might shoot me.
It was that night at the Boardwalk all over again, Ryder’s betrayal familiar and stabbing.
My eyes darted around the clearing—around the beasts and humans fleeing, the clash of teeth and steel from those fighting.
The wolves were outnumbered. The shadows consumed everything. I ground my jaw, my head snapping away from a crumpled body. Clearly, the Night Stalkers were here for more than a fight.
They came here to kill.
“River!” A familiar voice rang out amongst the others—desperate, screaming. Shanley. I met her stare. She violently patted at the air. “GET DOWN!”
I ducked just in time, the sharp tip of an arrow whistling over my head. It landed behind me, skittering across the stone. My heart flittered wildly, crashing against my ribs.
Adrenaline gathered in my chest, then expanded outward like a balloon, pain and pressure building and shooting to the scars on my shoulder blades, my fingers, the rest of my limbs—in between it all, a feeling I couldn’t mistake for anything else: a faint pulse of magic.
Maybe if I just wished, if I focused hard enough, I could unleash it like I had that night at the Boardwalk, even without my mom’s necklace—the conduit for my powers.
I narrowed my eyes, tracing over the little view I had of the forest behind the crescent-shaped rock, desperate to find a source of water in the darkness.
I was usually good at this, parsing through the environment, everything made clearer by my angel senses.
But the chaos, the blood, the tears, the screams… It was like a fuzzy, red filter had been smeared over the world, and I couldn’t see through it.
Back flush against the podium, I craned my neck, managing to catch a glimpse of Chet—the people who’d been restraining him were now cold lumps on the floor. Everyone around him had fled. Teeth bared, he glared up at the stage.
Something was off. He hadn’t run away.
I followed his line of sight. Despite the carnage, Elder Ivan hadn’t moved from his throne.
Seeing him there provided no relief, no matter how badly I wanted to believe that the leader of the werewolves was about to go claws-out and fight off the attackers.
But he was too still, too calm. The more I studied him, the more unease prickled my skin.
He wasn’t snarling, he was… smiling. Like he was proud.
An icy chill washed down my spine, seeping into my bones.
He was in on this. They both were.
Chet was no surprise. I didn’t know Ivan. The stings of betrayal I was feeling were more about the secrets that’d been whispered, kept from their own kin. This was supposed to be a safe space for wolves.
Finis had spewed the bogus idea of bridging the realms before I banished her to hers: angels and demons and every species all “coexisting” together by whatever means necessary—violence—and with Chthonia, the devil’s realm, in charge, of course…
I guess I didn’t realize how far, how deep the message had spread.
How so many people willingly chose to side with evil.
Shadows infiltrated the stage—Night Stalkers in their all-black uniforms—grabbing the other Elders and throwing them to the ground.
With a violent roar and a flash of dark hair, Jesalynn shifted into her massive wolf form. The Stalker before her was nothing but shredded skin and leather by the time I could blink.
I jolted back, hitting my head on the thick stone podium. Ears ringing, I gritted my teeth against the swell of sharp pain.
A pair of combat boots appeared before me, splattered in dirt and blood. I didn’t let my eyes trail any farther up. Ignoring the pounding in my skull, I whirled out of my hiding space and ran. I hopped off the stage, landing on the slick stone between two werewolves.
I’d recognize the shape of their snouts, the color of their fur, the loyal gleam in their eyes anywhere: Shanley and Mau.
A figure landed before Mau, their approach lethally silent except for the whir of their red-tipped blade. Yellow-slitted eyes glowed beneath their hood.
My friends swept into formation, becoming a shield of snapping jaws and fierce growls.
Another being dropped into our space. Hissing, they swayed their head from side to side. I stepped back, staggering into the eroded edge of the stage. They slithered closer, a forked pink tongue darting out of the darkness under their cowl.
More growls filled the air, but at that point, I didn’t know who they were coming from.
With a chuff, Shanley pointed her nose towards the wilderness. Go, she seemed to say. She lowered into a crouch, mirroring Mau. With a final throaty warning, they lunged.
I darted towards the trees, jumping over bodies, skidding on moss, splashing through shallow pools of fluid.
My stomach turned.
There were too many shadows, too many people bleeding out. I could help. And yet… I kept running, kept my face straight ahead, kept my gaze locked on the thick foliage.
Shanley had told me to flee, but who was I kidding? I would have done that anyway.
Bands of pressure tightened around my heart. Coward, it thumped.
Wavering at the threshold of the forest, I watched the streams of light shining down from the clearing get swallowed by the dense wall of trees and undergrowth.
Selfish. Thump. No better than a demon. Thump.
A devilish scream curdled the night.
Not allowing myself to turn around, I dove into the darkness. Thin branches whipped my face as I sprinted through the trees. Pine leaves tugged at my hair. Even bolder shadows dotted the night—I knew better than to assume they were redwoods.
The brush rustled a few feet over. Someone carving a path beside me.
Shanley? Mau? Relief eased the ache of my muscles. Lungs stabbing, I slowed.
Fumbling for my phone that’d been stashed in my pocket, I tapped the screen—no bars, that was a given—and shone it in front of me. The trees were colossal. The leaves were still.
The air was heavy with silence.
“Sh-Shanley? Mau?” Despite the effort to be quiet, it felt like every hushed syllable, every labored gasp, echoed in the night—like the wild pounding of my heart was covering the sound of someone else’s footsteps.
The hair rose on the back of my neck.
If it was a friend, they would have shown themselves by now. A twig snapped.
I held up my light, shining it over a wall of ferns. “Who’s there?”
And if it was an enemy, they surely would have pounced by now.
Another snap. A crunch. Behind me this time. My breath caught in my throat.
I whirled around. “Show yourself!”
Swearing the branch ahead was an arm and the gnarled trunk a torso, I peered into the woods.
“I’m armed!” I added, even if it was untrue, even if my voice was quaking.
A deep chuckle came from the shadows, and it was like a bullseye shot right to my heart. I’d heard that laugh—many times—but not once in over a month. Not since he’d completed his blood oath and handed me over to the demon at the Boardwalk.
“Ryder?” I forced a harsh tone, and it still came out breathless.
No answer, but I could feel the heat of his gaze burning through the dark.
And if I lifted my phone, I was sure a pair of gold-green eyes would reflect the light. “Is that you?”
A silhouette shifted within the grove.
“Run.” The command wove through the trees, the wind, my bones. It was him, but his tone was gritty, strangled, like someone—or something—else was trapped inside him and he had to fight to get a word out.
Part of me ached, a much bigger part than I’d like to admit.
He was tortured, and I wanted to heal him. I wanted to see him, talk to him. Touch him. I stepped forward.
The forest fell silent.
“Silly girl.” A whisper, a snarl. Him, but not.
It stopped me in my tracks, that flare of wanting warring against the broken pieces of my heart. Ryder had once helped me find my power, but just as quickly he’d taken it away.
What would happen if I took another step towards him?
Dead leaves crinkled beneath the soles of my feet.
And another?
“Go,” he spat. “Now.”
My heart rammed against my rib cage. “Are you saving me?”
“Maybe.” The word was dipped in venom. “Or maybe I just like the chase.”
Low, solemn howls echoed off the tree trunks. The wolves. Shanley, Mau. I bounced on my heels, leaning in their direction. Debating.
Out of the corner of my eye, there was a blur of movement, muscles lunging, leather.
Slipping on the wet soil, I ran away from Crescent Rock, away from my friends, away from it all. Faster and faster, not looking back, not letting myself sink into the guilt of leaving them—even though they’d told me to.
When the woods thinned, I didn’t stop, not even when the golden fields surrounded me.
Finally, I turned my head, and I could have sworn there was a shadow in the distance behind me.
I cut through the eucalyptus, weaving in and out of a thicket.
Pins and needles danced along my tendons. Every inhale burned. But I’d keep going until I was sure Ryder wasn’t following, and even then I’d plow on, only stopping once my legs gave out—because that was better than an arrow through my heart.
I glanced at my phone. A single bar. That wouldn’t do shit out here.
Phone service would be better down by the road, which is where I thought I was heading. Not only would I be safer down there—it was paved.
My foot slipped into a gopher hole, and I staggered forward, slamming into an outcrop of pale rocks.
Ugh. Chest heavy, I pressed off the stone.
Hobbling down the rolling hillside, now more rock than grass, I crouched beneath the sharp juts of conifers, climbed over boulders with such chalky residue it turned my pants and my palms white.
I slid down a near-vertical rock face, my legs shaking under my weight when I stood up at the bottom, and the steep edge I’d landed near crumbled like sand. Calves aching, I leapt back.
Suspicion was already humming through me, a whisper of intuition tickling the hairs on the back of my neck. And then I saw them: aliens, peace signs, names, a compass rose, doodles carved into every spare inch of this fragile rock.
I bent down, running my fingertips over a pair of letters. NS.
Like a pitiful, nervous prey animal, I froze.
This wasn’t a random cluster of steep sandhills. These were the moonrocks.
Which meant the Night Stalker compound was hiding in plain sight, somewhere in the vale below. Ryder hadn’t been hunting me—he’d been herding me.