Chapter Eleven
Hospitals had a way of smelling like endings.
Antiseptic, plastic, recycled air—the kind of place no wolf ever wanted to linger.
Over the past three days, he, Isaac, Jacob, and Liam had shared bodyguard duty over the four women.
They rostered shifts so that one of the shifters was always in the room and the others rotated through, never leaving Brielle unprotected.
Nolan’s turn had stretched longer than usual because Saffie had fallen asleep on the recliner on the opposite side of the room, and he didn’t want to wake her—he’d taken the chair by her bed and stayed, knees aching, determined to watch over her until she was strong enough to glare at him.
Brielle looked small beneath the white sheets, her face mottled with fading bruises. Her ribs were taped, cracked but not broken—a miracle, the doctors said, considering what she’d endured.
“Thank you for giving me your statement, Brielle,” Officer Landon Walker said, his smile genuine. “I am so sorry that this happened to you. We will do everything we can to catch this asshole, but it seems that Caleb knows how to play a great game of hide and seek.”
Brielle nodded. “Thanks, Officer Walker. I hope you catch him.”
“We will, honey, I swear.”
The door opened and in walked Hunter and Lennox Garrison, all crisp EMT uniforms and contained energy, and from the looks on their faces they had caught Landon’s endearment, and neither of them were happy about it.
They’d visited twice already, lingering longer than protocol required.
This time, Hunter carried a small bunch of daisies in a paper cup, looking faintly embarrassed as he set it on the bedside table.
“Hunter, Lennox, good to see you both,” Landon smiled and turned to shake their hands. Nolan watched as the age-old battle of strength and wills occurred right in front of him with forceful handshakes.
“Like that is it?” Landon asked with a huge grin.
“Yep.” Harrison said quietly.
“Exactly like that.” Lennox added, and Landon actually laughed out loud.
“Message received.”
Landon shot Nolan a wink and he laughed out loud, grimacing when the sound had his mate shifting awake on the recliner she’d fallen asleep in an hour or two ago. “Sorry, Saffie.”
“S’right,” she said adorably sleepy, and his heart swelled.
Harrison and Lennox came into the room, and placed the flowers on the table.
“You didn’t have to—” Brielle’s voice was a little breathless, but her eyes opened, sharp and wary. Then her cheeks colored faintly. “You must be busy. You don’t need to spend your time here worrying about me.”
Lennox leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t worry about us. We’re used to long hours, and you’re not a bother. Honestly? We’d rather be here with you—you look a damn sight better than the guys we usually hang out with.”
Hunter shot him a look, but Brielle’s lips twitched. “Smooth.”
“Wasn’t tryin’ to be smooth, just being me,” Lennox countered, a grin tugging at his mouth.
Nolan watched her flush deepen, saw the way her pulse jumped. She tried to hide it with sarcasm, but the attraction was there. Palpable. The brothers weren’t just being polite—they were drawn to her. His wolf lifted its head, curious.
Isaac came in a few moments later with coffee, nodding at the Garrisons. “Hey! What are you two assholes up to?” He told Brielle, “We know them through the Fire Department. They are solid guys. They’ve pulled their weight more times than I can count.”
Brielle asked quietly with a small smile, “Are you vouching for them, Isaac?”
“Hell, yes,” Isaac said. “They’re good men.”
“You playing matchmaker, mate o’ mine?” Saffie asked as she stretched in the chair, the movement doing interesting things to his body.
“What can I say?” Isaac said as he carried Saffie her coffee, having handed Nolan his. “I’m a hopeless romantic.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth, and Nolan smiled at the dreamy sigh that move brought from their mate.
Brielle ducked her gaze, embarrassed. “Yeah, well, good men still shouldn’t have had to haul me off a boutique floor just because I was the victim of an assault.”
Hunter’s voice softened. “What we saw was a fighter. Definitely not a victim.”
Silence stretched for a beat. Nolan cleared his throat, unsettled by something he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just attraction. There was a weight in the room, a kind of dominance radiating from the Garrison brothers that hadn’t been obvious before.
When the Garrisons stepped even closer to Brielle, Nolan leaned into Isaac speaking sub-vocally so as not to be heard by the Garrisons. “You feel that?”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Dominance. Not human either.”
Nolan’s wolf bristled. “Let’s test it.”
They let their wolves surface, just enough to edge their eyes with glow, to push dominance into the room.
Hunter and Lennox stiffened instantly, their easy smiles faltering.
Agitation rippled off them, low and instinctive, though they also seemed confused.
Hunter’s hands flexed, Lennox’s jaw clenched, but nothing more came.
Then they blinked, shaking their heads as if to clear them.
Then, when a nurse came in and adjusted Brielle’s bandages too roughly, she let out a strangled cry.
Hunter—still lingering at the doorway—snapped.
His growl was low, feral, shocking in the sterile room.
“Be fucking careful,” he bit out, his eyes flashing with sudden gold before dimming again.
The nurse paled, mumbled an apology, and fled.
The two men followed her out, and the dominance level dropped. The room went silent.
Isaac exhaled slowly. “Well, hell.”
They gathered that night with Saffron and Ursula, voices low, tossing questions back and forth. Nolan laid it out first—the dominance he’d felt, the growl, the flash of gold. Isaac added that Hunter and Lennox had stiffened like wolves being challenged.
Ursula frowned. “Could they be half-breeds? Some other kind of mage?”
Isaac shook his head. “No, that reaction sounded primal. It felt like one of us.”
Nolan rubbed his jaw. “Then why don’t they know what they are?”
Saffron’s eyes sharpened as the pieces clicked.
“Because the curse doesn’t just bind the willing.
It locks some shifters in human form, keeps them from knowing what they are.
Or who they belong to. Because we couldn’t end it completely with Marcus, there are some that are still stuck in the in between. ”
Hunter and Lennox. Shifters who didn’t even know they were shifters, and potentially they had a mate who couldn’t recognize their bond.
Ursula went still, her hands curling into fists. Her voice was quiet, but the pain in it sliced Nolan open. “If my mates are out there ... they may not even know me.”
Saffron reached for her sister, but Ursula turned away, hiding her face.
Nolan rose, crossed the room, and set a hand gently on her shoulder.
“If they’re out there, Ursula, we’ll find them.
And curse or not, nothing will keep them from you forever.
And bond or not, they will recognize you as theirs, how could they not? ”
She blinked fast, swallowing hard. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Nolan said simply. “Because no fate is stronger than a mate bond, visible or not. Not forever.”
Ursula gave a watery laugh, shaking her head. “You sound like an optimist.”
“Don’t spread it around,” Nolan replied, and she huffed a small laugh despite herself.
Saffron watched them, her smile soft, eyes bright with pride. Nolan caught her gaze and shrugged. “What? I’ve got a soft side.”
Her smile widened, and his wolf preened under it. Even in the sterile halls of a hospital, with pain hanging heavy in the air, the coven felt a little stronger. A little more certain of the battles still to come.
****
Adrian Veynar had always loved the taste of power.
It was wine on his tongue, fire in his blood, and today he savored it as he stood before the half-circle of the Council’s remaining elders.
Their chamber was an ancient space—stone walls carved with sigils, banners from fallen covens, and a table of black oak that had seen centuries of betrayal.
The scent of burning sage and iron hung thick, disguising the rot at the heart of the Council.
He wore his finest suit, immaculate and dark, a statement that he was both a modern empire-builder and a creature older than any empire. The glow from the sconces cast long shadows across his face, sharpening the cruel smile he offered his rivals.
Across from him stood Caleb Blackmore—handsome, charming, and dangerous in a different way. Caleb had charisma that drew people in, but Veynar had patience and ruthlessness. Brielle Johnson’s ex-lover had always been a problem, and now he stood as Adrian’s only real challenger for leadership.
“We cannot waste time,” Caleb said, his voice smooth, meant to win rather than to intimidate. “The coven strengthens daily. They’ve already found the Druid Stone—if we hesitate, we lose everything. I should lead the strike.”
Adrian’s laugh was low and cold, echoing in the chamber. “And you think yourself fit to command? You couldn’t even control one woman, Caleb. She slipped through your fingers. Now she lies in a hospital bed instead of cold on a slab, and you think that makes you a general?”
Caleb’s jaw tightened. A flicker of fury passed behind his eyes. “Careful, Adrian. You think your money and skyscrapers make you a king. But power in this world doesn’t come from suits and boardrooms. It comes from blood. From fear. And I have both.”
Adrian stepped forward, letting his presence swell.
Darkness coiled around him, a reminder of what centuries of practice had made him.
“You mistake theatrics for strength. I have built empires, toppled families, crushed companies, all while waiting for this moment. The coven will fall, the Stone will be mine, and the Council will follow me—not you.”
Murmurs rippled around the chamber. Some of the elders leaned toward Adrian, others toward Caleb. The balance was delicate, one push away from collapse.
An elder with a voice like gravel spoke. “You bicker like children while the witches prepare. Choose a leader now. We must strike at dawn tomorrow—the Equinox Sunrise. If you mean to strike, it must be then. The rising sun in the east will burn through their wards. It is our best chance.”
The words hung heavy. Adrian inclined his head, calculating. The Equinox—balance of day and night, a moment when old wards weakened as light and dark stood equal. Tomorrow morning. Yes. Perfect.
Caleb seized on it. “Then I will lead us at the Equinox. As is my birth right.”
Adrian spread his hands, smile sharp. “No, Caleb. The Council does not follow the weakest link simply because of genetics. You lost control of Brielle. You let her discover strength she never should have touched. If you lead, you will fail, and we will all pay the price. Let me command, and I will deliver victory.”
Caleb turned to the elders, voice rising. “I’ve proven myself in battle. I’ve spilled more blood than Adrian ever dirtied his hands with. He hides behind wealth and lawyers. Do you really trust him to face witches armed with a relic older than this Council?”
The chamber held its breath. Then one by one, the elders placed their tokens on the table. Silver discs clattered against wood, some engraved with runes, some worn smooth with age. When the last token fell, the tally was clear.
Adrian had the majority.
A slow smile spread across his face. “The Council has spoken.” He turned to Caleb, savoring the bitterness etched across the man’s features. “Stand down.”
Caleb’s lips curled, but he inclined his head. “For now.”
Adrian caught the look in his rival’s eyes—the promise of betrayal. Caleb would not sit idle. He would plot, scheme, find a way to undermine him. But for now, Adrian held the reins.
He faced the Council, spreading his arms like a priest before an altar.
“Tomorrow, at the Equinox Sunrise, we strike. Their coven is fractured, one of them injured. They are vulnerable. We will tear down their wards, reclaim the Stone, and burn them from existence before they can end us. And we will continue the legacy of our Archdruid and remove the abominations of shifters from our time, and all time to come.”
A murmur of assent rose, dark and eager. Power vibrated through the chamber, hungry and ready.
Adrian Veynar let it wash over him, triumphant. The Council was his. Soon the coven would be ash, the Stone would pulse in his hand, and nothing—Caleb Blackmore, the witches, not even fate—would stand in his way.