Chapter 9
CADE
Negotiating with Iris Prescott is like being drugged. One moment, I think I know what’s happening, and the next, she’s talking about “reading the chicken feet on the wall” before snapping back to reality like we didn’t just detour into lunacy.
“Rowan is all I have left in this world,” Iris says for the hundredth time since I came into her office downstairs, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.
“If you so much as make her eyes well up, I will find someone bigger, badder, and more powerful to rip you to shreds. That poison arrow will seem like child’s play compared to what they’ll do. ”
I step toward her, my height towering over her much smaller, frailer frame, but she doesn’t flinch, not even when my chest rumbles in warning. “I’d never hurt my mate.”
It’s an insult to accuse me of doing so that only someone who isn’t a shifter would think possible.
Finding our mate isn’t something I’ve ever seen another wolf take for granted or abuse. Well, outside of my father when he ignored my mother for far too long, and as much as I hated him in the end, I can’t deny the pain he held for her after her death.
Iris’s wrinkled face tightens, her mouth pressing into a thin line.
“I hate this for her more than you could possibly imagine, but I guess you can stay. That doesn’t mean I approve of you and her.
If Rowan wants to reject you, I will fully support her, and I won’t keep anything from her.
But…” She leans back in her chair, eyes glinting, “I’d be a fool to deny you can help protect her from what’s coming.
Even a rabid wolf can guard the door if it’s chained to the porch. ”
At least she’s finally seeing sense. Mostly.
We still need to keep an eye on Iris, my wolf says. While she brought us our mate, she also brought Rowan into this danger. We need to know why, and something tells me it’s more than Rowan being the last heir in the Prescott family.
I agreed with that.
“I’ll need a room inside, near Rowan’s,” I say without leaving room for argument.
“And you won’t treat me like a guard dog, Iris.
She’s my mate. Even if I make her hate me in the process, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
Including killing you over and over again or taking her from NightShade without permission.
You might think this is a safe haven, but you’re about to watch the worst parts of our world come crashing through your doorstep. ”
She pats her hip, fingers resting with casual confidence on whatever weapon she’s got hidden beneath her loose, flowery dress.
“I’ve protected this place for five centuries.
Nothing and no one is going to stop me from doing that now.
” Her gaze rakes over me like she’s measuring where to put the first bullet.
“I’ve buried scarier things than you, wolf-boy, and some of them still send me postcards. ”
Her words shouldn’t get under my skin, but the way she says it—like it’s not a threat, but a casual fact—makes my wolf bristle.
“We’ll see about that,” I mutter, turning to walk away. I’ve had enough of her brand of crazy for one day.
But Iris Prescott doesn’t let anyone leave on their own terms.
The air shifts behind me, the faintest scrape of porcelain on wood my only warning. I pivot as my hand shoots up, snatching the small ivory elephant out of the air inches before it would have cracked against my skull.
Her aim is good. I’ll give her that.
My fingers curl, grinding the figurine into shattered fragments until it sifts past my knuckles and scatters across her ornate rug like bone dust.
“You got lucky when you shot me with that arrow last night,” I say, voice low and even. “I was distracted then. That won’t happen again. You’d do well to remember that.”
Iris settles back in her chair like a queen on her throne, smirking as though she’s the one in control. “Oh, I will. And you’d do well to remember this. Wolves may have teeth, but I collect them.”
Crazy old woman.
The need to escape this hell is strong, but I don’t head out the front door. I navigate the twisting halls of the manor, ignoring the whisper of old wood under my boots, the faint smell of lemon oil and dust clinging to the air.
On the third floor, a narrow door tucked between two bookcases leads to one of the turrets. I don’t hesitate.
The spiral stairs are steep and tight, the iron railing cold under my palm as I take them three at a time. My pulse eases with every step up, the tension of Iris’s presence fading behind me.
When I shove open the exterior door, the afternoon sun slams into me—bright and hot, the air sharp with the scent of pine from the surrounding forest. It’s a welcome relief after hours under the manor’s dim light, but sunlight alone won’t settle the tight ache in my chest. Only finding Rowan will.
Liz claimed she was taking her out for “a little while.” Something I’d objected to immediately, but the vampire swore she wouldn’t go far.
That was a fucking lie.
By the time I spot them from my place on the roof, they’re almost a mile from the manor. Still on Prescott land, but far enough to make my wolf rise to the surface.
I can’t hear what they’re talking about, but I don’t need to. While I intend to do everything in my power to protect Rowan, I also can’t get too invested until I know where she stands.
She won’t reject us, my wolf says with a certainty I can’t yet match.
She might.
Her wolf is strong. I sense her even now. Once Rowan finally shifts, she won’t be able to deny what she feels.
I’d like to hope he’s right, but I don’t dare. I have one job to do for now, and that’s keeping Rowan safe. Whether she accepts me or not isn’t of consequence at the moment. At least I can’t let it be.
My muscles coil as the wind shifts. We’re not alone.
Footsteps reach my ears in the next second, but I don’t move. Not yet.
Boots crunch the roof’s shingles behind me, and as they get closer, there’s something familiar about their scent. Earth, moss, a hint of pine, and…home.
It smells like a memory. One I’ve been trying to forget.
“Still watching from the shadows, Alpha Westin?”
The voice is older, worn smooth by time but laced with mischief.
Elias Thornhart.
I pivot, my movements silent against the turret’s rough stone as I leap and land a step behind him. He doesn’t flinch.
Elias is all broad shoulders and wiry strength, the kind of build that says he’s been surviving on instinct and wit for decades. His dark hair is threaded with silver at the temples—the strands wind-tossed as if he’s been running through the forest all day.
Golden eyes study me from beneath a brow lined with faint creases. His skin is sun-browned and weathered, the faint scar slicing across his jaw proof of a fight he probably won. The leather jacket he wears is scuffed and patched, smelling faintly of smoke and old blood.
“What are you doing here, Elias?” My voice comes out low, and my wolf is already pacing.
His smirk is practiced, the kind of expression that never gives away how dangerous the man behind it really is. “Oh, you know. I was just out and about and thought I’d check in for the night.”
Last I heard, he’d been up for the council position I walked away from after my father’s death as well as my alpha spot.
The same position the packs refused to fill when the council rejected him.
The seat’s still empty—rotting, just like the council—and if they’re waiting for me to take it, they’ll be waiting until their deathbeds.
“NightShade is closed to new arrivals right now,” I say, leaving no room for negotiating. “You should go back to be with the pack.”
“Is that a direct order, Alpha?” His brow arches in challenge, but I don’t bite.
“I never accepted the role. You know this.”
He shrugs, leather creaking softly. “Doesn’t mean the Solara Pack isn’t still waiting for you to return.”
Why the hell would they want that? I abandoned them when they needed me most, left them in the beta’s hands with nothing more than a good luck before walking away. They’re stubborn fools for clinging to the ghost of an alpha who has no intention of coming back.
But something tells me Elias isn’t at NightShade for a heartfelt reunion.
“If you’re here for Rowan, you’re wasting your time,” I say, letting my voice sharpen. “She’s not up for grabs.”
He lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, Cade. I’m not here to claim anyone—romantically or contractually.
” His lips twitch with something close to amusement, but his eyes stay dead serious.
“I came here as a courtesy to you. When I heard you were guarding the manor, I knew what that had to mean. It was never a secret how you felt about the prophecy. So, if she’s still free and breathing, that only means one thing. ”
I don’t say it. I’m not ready for the world to know, but what I want doesn’t much matter.
“She’s your mate,” he adds. “Which makes her just as much our Alpha as you are. Those who still stand with you, will also stand with her. However you need us to.”
His choice of words grate on my nerves, but if he’s telling the truth, if the Solara Pack still sees me as their leader, I’d be a fool not to use that to my advantage in keeping Rowan safe, but not yet. Not until she’s ready.
“I assume your presence isn’t the courtesy you speak of?” I ask, needing this conversation to move away from my mate status.
He shakes his head, the sunlight catching on the silver strands in his hair.
“I wish it were that simple, but the packs are talking, Cade. You know nothing stays quiet for long. They’re all already aware that you’re here.
They know the hybrid Hollowborn has surfaced.
Some say leave her alone, let the prophecy burn itself out.
But there are plenty who want to capture her for their own reasons—power, vengeance, politics, take your pick.
” His mouth tightens. “More importantly, the council is gathering at midnight tonight.”
He glances toward the tree line, eyes narrowing. My gaze follows, and I know he’s locked onto the same thing I am—the distant movement of Rowan and Liz returning from their little walk.
“Tell me you have a plan.” He looks back at me, and I expect judgment, but there’s only hope in his gaze.
I do. To kill anyone who tries to touch my mate. Though, I don’t tell him that.
“I’m handling it,” is all he gets out of me.
He pleads with me, his voice carrying a weight that makes the air between us feel heavier.
“You think you’ve been hiding, Westin, but the Council’s patience is thinning.
Her presence has made it worse. You might have left to go rogue, but you should have known they wouldn’t let you go that easily.
The balance of power has been broken since your father died.
Some seasons that’s worked well for them, but not all of them.
Now with the arrival of the Ashmark? Innocent people are going to be hurt. ”
“All because of a stupid prophecy that could mean a million different things.” My jaw locks so tight my molars ache. “They’re trying to build a monster out of a woman who doesn’t even know how to shift yet.”
“They’re building an excuse,” Elias says, cutting through my anger with quiet precision. “To restore order. Or to seize power, depending on who you ask.”
The wind picks up, carrying the sharp scent of pine and rain-soaked leaves, but it does nothing to cool the heat in my chest. Silence stretches between us until Elias reaches into his back pocket. The motion is slow, deliberate, as though he’s weighing whether to give me whatever he’s holding.
He pulls out a folded piece of parchment, the wax seal stamped with the Council’s insignia: a ring of six interlocking wolf sigils, each one representing the various packs. Even from a distance, the emblem makes my skin crawl.
“I don’t want that,” I say, crossing my arms like a barricade between us. “Whatever they have to say isn’t anything I’ll believe anyway.”
“Maybe you should.” He holds it out to me, his golden eyes just a few shades lighter than mine and steady. “The Council is convening. They’re drafting new laws. Ones that target hybrids of any kind. Ones that could legalize—under Council law—the hunting of anyone who fits her description.”
My blood goes cold, as if winter itself has taken root in my veins.
“She’s practically human,” I snap, my tone harsher than intended.
“One who is prophesied to unmake the supernatural world as we know it,” Elias says evenly. “Whether it’s true or not won’t matter. Belief is enough to start a war.”
I take the parchment, and the wax seal melts under my thumb.
My grip tightens until the edges of the paper bite into my skin and a growl rises from deep in my chest, spilling out into the open air.
The sound ricochets off the manor’s stone walls and disappears into the trees, but its meaning is clear enough.
“I won’t let them touch her.”
Elias studies me for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze before he nods once. “Then you’d better stop pretending you’re not still an alpha.”
And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away, stepping off the roof, and going inside the manor as though he’s already been invited in.
I stand there, the parchment still burning in my hand, and a curse under my breath.
Damn it.
I need to talk to Rowan.