Chapter 14 - Nicholas
The house smells like coffee when the group comes back from Montreal, like a warm Sunday morning, except it’s a Tuesday, and I don’t feel very welcome in my own home.
Delilah and Arianna are already in the living room, a map of Quebec spread across the table, while the rest of us—Dominic, Sean, Hunter, Tyler, and Emily—file in with the exhaustion of wolves who’ve been running on fumes.
They have every reason to be exhausted from their journey to Canada and back, while I only have emotional exhaustion to thank for the way I drag my feet into the living room.
The conversation buzzes low, but I can barely focus when all I can think about is the scent still clinging to me. Now that I’m out of the kitchen, and the smell of coffee is weaker, there’s another scent that overpowers my senses.
Lavender.
Donna’s scent.
Or, her scent is just burned into my airways, a brutal reminder of what happened last night.
I woke up to cold sheets and a hollow space beside me, the absence of an indentation where she’d been lying, digging a hole in my chest. For a moment, I thought I’d dreamt it up, that she’d never been there at all, but the taste of her still lingered on my tongue, proof enough that it was real.
And now she’s across the living room, standing beside Delilah with her arms folded, her face neutral. Blank.
If she is thinking about last night, she doesn’t show it.
“The Loups de Lune Pack says they haven’t seen Tobias since he left two days ago,” Sean begins, pulling me back into the present. He’s pacing behind the couch, one hand rubbing his neck. “Alpha Beaumont swore Tobias was gone before we even got there.”
I glance up. “Etienne Beaumont?”
“Yeah,” Dominic concedes with a nod, dropping into the armchair across from me. “He said Tobias wasn’t the kind of wolf who stuck around. He sought sanctuary at Loups de Lune after claiming he was in a fight. Beaumont figured he was just passing through, so he didn’t think much of it.”
“But he wasn’t born in that pack,” Tyler adds. “They’re not his own people. He must be a loner.”
Hunter leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “That’s probably why the whole pack was clean. No sign of dark magic, no dealings with rogues. Rousseau even let Delilah run a trace. There was nothing.”
Delilah confirms this with a nod, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. “Whatever was linking Tobias to the dark lord, he’s cut it loose for now. My guess is he’s trying to hide.”
I rake a hand through my hair, the motion sharper than it needs to be. “He can’t stay hidden forever.”
“Maybe not,” Sean mutters. “But he’s good at covering his tracks.”
“Not good enough.” Hunter pulls a folded paper from his jacket and tosses it onto the table. “Beaumont let us look through his records. Tobias didn’t use the name ‘Peck.’ The ID he gave was registered to a Tobias Louvet.”
Silence settles over the room like a storm about to crack, and everyone’s eyes fall to the coffee table where the paper is unfolded. I see the name written in black ink, read it twice, and that’s when the name hits me square in the gut.
Louvet.
“Louvet?” my voice echoes through the silence, a frown tugging at my brows. “As in Barry Louvet?”
Dominic looks up, recognition glowing in his eyes. “The informant from the Canadian op?”
“Yeah...” my voice drops lower, the memory flickering at the back of my mind like static—fuzzy but still there. “He was the one who tipped us off about the vampire ambush near Lake Abitibi. He didn’t make it out alive.”
Hunter exhales slowly. “Think Tobias is related to him?”
“Cousin, maybe. Or brother.” I rub my jaw, contemplating this new development.
Barry Louvet was a friend from when we just began our missions.
He lost his life tragically, but helped us take down the coven of vampires.
He was a martyr in all our eyes—especially mine, since we were the closest. “Barry was working with us, so maybe Tobias got it all wrong and thinks we’re responsible for his death.
That would explain the obsession. The hex bag, the attack on Donna… it’s personal.”
“Revenge,” Sean says softly, a grim silence following.
Delilah folds her arms. “That makes him unpredictable—and dangerous. A wolf with a vendetta is one thing. A wolf dabbling in dark magic for vengeance? That’s a nightmare.”
“There’s clearly a pattern…” I say, more like a thought said aloud. “First, Tyler, with the rogue wolves who were working for the warlock, and now, Tobias. They all had a vendetta against us, for things that happened during our missions.”
“We made enemies out there, and they’re coming back to haunt us,” Tyler says gloomily, glancing at Arianna with worry in his eyes.
“And it seems the dark lord is targeting our weak spots,” Sean adds. “Setting our enemies upon us.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend…” Hunter laments with a hollow chuckle. “That fucker is smart.”
“We have to be smarter,” Dominic chimes in confidently.
I nod, turning to briefly glance at Donna, sensing her indifference when she catches my eyes.
I force my mind to shift gears and turn my face away, back to the paper on the coffee table, because I can’t afford to let my thoughts drift toward the woman standing a few feet away, even when the faintest tilt of her head catches my attention. I focus on the mission instead.
The only way to drown the ache for my mate is to lead the way I’m meant to as an alpha.
“He’ll resurface,” I say firmly. “We’ll be ready when he does. But until then, we need to strengthen our defenses.”
Hunter gestures toward Donna. “Starting with her.”
I stiffen instinctively, but I know he’s right.
I’ve been thinking the same thing since the ritual.
If the dark lord is after the witches linked to the prophecy, Donna is next on his list, and he has Tobias on her heels.
He would have gotten to her if I hadn’t intercepted his rendezvous with the malevolent, cloaked creature the night of her graduation.
I protected her then, and I will continue protecting her.
That’s why the idea of her being in danger, or learning how to fight the kind of darkness that almost devoured me, makes my stomach twist.
“She needs training,” I say finally. “The ritual worked, but she barely had control. If Tobias comes back, she won’t have Delilah or Arianna here to guide her.”
Delilah’s gaze sharpens, her witch’s intuition already working faster than my logic. “Then she’ll need someone who can train her properly.”
Arianna lifts her head. “Gwen.”
The name lands like a sigh of relief between the two witches, who glance at each other and nod their agreement.
Delilah turns Hunter. “She’s been asking for something to keep her busy since Scarborough quieted down. She’ll come.”
Dominic leans forward, the hint of a smile softening his tired expression. “Good. I know Gwen has a soft spot for Donna. And if anyone can help my sister control that kind of power, it’s her.”
I glance at him, surprised by his lack of hesitation. He’s all in, no trace of doubt, no protective older-brother instinct kicking in. Maybe he trusts Donna more than she trusts herself.
Across the room, Donna finally speaks up. Her voice is quiet but measured. “If Gwen is willing to train me, I’ll do it.”
It’s the first thing she’s said all morning.
Delilah nods approvingly, glancing at her mate again. “We’ll make the arrangements.”
I watch as Donna nods first, then turns away when the attention moves from her. She walks toward the hallway, her shoulders square, her expression unreadable. There’s no trace of the softness I held last night, none of the trembling warmth of her breath against my skin.
Just Donna: strong, detached, and unshakable.
My chest tightens, and I tell myself to let her go, to focus on what matters. But the ghost of her scent drifts past as she walks by toward the hall, and every cell in my body remembers.
I wait until the others disperse, Sean muttering something about updating Gwen, some heading to the kitchen, others making their way to the porch, and then I follow Donna.
The hallway is dim, sunlight filtering through the lace curtains in slanted stripes. Donna stops at the end of the hallway, at her bedroom door, her hand on the doorframe.
“Donna,” I call, my voice low but steady.
She turns halfway, her hair sweeping over her shoulder. Her face is calm, but her eyes betray her.
“You left without saying anything.”
A beat of silence passes. The air between us is taut, filled with everything we haven’t said since last night.
“I didn’t think there was anything to say,” she replies softly.
My jaw tightens, but I don’t argue. Because maybe she’s right. Or maybe she thinks I’m talking about just now, in the living room.
Maybe last night was just a mistake for her, and she doesn’t want to think about it, while I’ll keep replaying the memory until it eats me alive.
Still, I can’t stop looking at her, memorizing the quiet fire in her gaze, the one that both burns me to ashes and saves my life.
“I wasn’t talking about just now,” I admit, done with going around in circles with her. “I was talking about last night.”
Recognition flashes across her eyes, but she turns her face away. This time, her blushing cheeks betray her.
She’s going to run away—I can tell when she opens the door, about to step inside, and she’ll probably shut it in my face like she did the first night.
But I won’t let it happen. Not again. Not after last night.
So, I grab her wrist to stop her.