Chapter 62
Feray
Dreams plague me, each one swirling with the weight of all the changes looming on the horizon like storm clouds gathering over the mountains.
I've opened the borders between the Arctic and the south, allowing my people to roam freely once more.
But with that freedom comes new threats—corruption festering within the shifter council, a rot so deep it threatens everything we've built.
My mates will wipe the slate clean, and together, we'll carve out something new from the ashes of the old.
But it's not just the shifters we have to worry about. We can only assume the magic council hides the same decay beneath their gleaming smiles and polished lies.
Khal's heart beats beneath me, a slow and steady lub-dub that soothes the restless edge of my wolf.
His warmth and presence calm the racing thoughts enough for me to rest, his heartbeat syncing with mine until I can't tell where his rhythm ends and mine begins.
We're heading back to the house in the woods, the one that was our home, a sanctuary for a time.
But even that has changed. Everything has.
Change is inevitable, my wolf murmurs, stretching lazily in my mind, her voice like wind rustling through frozen leaves. You are the moon, and she is the stars. Everything is as it should be.
The fae and some witches—children of the stars, we call them—glow with a light from their magic that we wolves can see.
They sparkle in ways no one else does, their magic woven into their very skin, shimmering like stardust while the air around them hums with power.
There's a beauty in how deeply they're connected to the universe and nature, a magic we wolves touch differently.
We are nature, born of it, tied to the wild, and in that sense, we share in the magic of the fae and the witches.
My dreams shift, drifting back to the kingdom of the North, to what lies ahead for us there.
The Arctic runs in my blood, a home I will always return to, but the South pulls at me too with its technology and advancements—and Fi.
We'll be traveling back and forth for years, trying to bring the Arctic into the present, bridging the gap between two worlds that have been separated for far too long.
The future feels uncertain, heavy with possibility and danger in equal measure. And yet, a quiet resolve settles in my chest like frost forming over still water. It's not just the North that's changing.
It's me.
The rhythmic hum of tires rolling over the wooden planks of a bridge jolts me from my light sleep. The sound pulls me back to the present, and I instinctively tighten my hold on the egg nestled against me.
Torben shifts beside me, his large hand steady as he helps me sit up while Khal moves in to support me from the other side, their warmth and presence grounding me in the waking world.
Even though we still have distance to cover before reaching the cabin, the weight of the journey ahead presses on my mind like a physical force.
"I want to go to the sleuth," I murmur, my voice raspy with sleep but my resolve unwavering.
"Drop Torben and me off there. We need to make sure everything's ready for my pack's arrival.
" A yawn escapes me, exhaustion still clinging to my bones, but I push it aside.
There's no time for rest. Not yet. Not with everything that's coming.
Torben hands me a snack stick and a bottle of water, his movements slow and deliberate as he unwraps the material bound around my waist. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if afraid to disturb the fragile life nestled beneath.
"Best we leave the little one with Diaval," he suggests softly, his deep voice a calming rumble.
"We don't need my mom thinking you're with cub and getting upset when she finds out you're not. "
I pull the egg back, re-buttoning it under my shirt with protective instinct surging through my chest. "It needs warmth," I say, my fingers tracing over the smooth surface beneath the flannel I borrowed from Torben.
"At least... I think it does." The fierceness that rises in me is something I can't fully explain—primal, ancient, like something has awakened in my blood that was always meant to be there.
Diaval's laugh, soft but full of knowing, echoes from the driver's seat. "You're as fierce as a dragoness on her nest," he teases, catching my eyes in the rearview mirror. "That's exactly why the egg chose now to awaken."
Heat rises to my cheeks, and I glance down at the lump under my shirt.
"It's like I am," I admit, my voice lowering as the reality settles over me.
"Its parents are more than likely dead. I want it to know the love it deserves.
" My throat tightens, and I blink against the tears prickling at my eyes.
"We'll be honest with it—about how we found it, how it came into our family.
If it chose me, then I want to be the best mom I can be.
" For a moment, there's only the sound of the tires and the low hum of the engine, the road stretching endlessly before us.
"You will be the best mom ever," Easton speaks up from the front, turning in his seat. "The way you wrangle all of us, two entire packs... you make it look effortless."
A laugh escapes me, breaking through the emotions swirling inside. "Oh, it's not easy. Being a Luna is hard work—I think bartending prepared me for dealing with overgrown children."
I catch Diaval's playful pout in the mirror and can't resist teasing him.
"Oh, stop it, D. You know you're picky as hell about your drinks.
If they aren't perfect, you pout like a child.
I thought you were going to roast Mo on more than one occasion.
" Laughter bubbles up, spreading through the cramped space of the car, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything we carry feels lighter.
"It's true—I almost did roast him at least half a dozen times before you were hired," Diaval admits, a slight pink blush rising on his cheeks. "The scenery significantly improved once you took over."
"I've damn near killed him myself. Dezi made me promise not to murder his staff." My smirk deepens. "Well, unless he said it was okay, that is. I'm more of a walking threat to the vampire covens that frequent the bar." I bare my canines for emphasis, flashing them in the mirror.
"Ah yes, the allergy the vamps have to wolf bites—they tend to come down with a horrible case of death," Diaval adds, his voice almost casual as the road curves, pulling us deeper into winding streets. "Did you know there's no cure for a wolf bite?"
"I did know. Fun fact, right?" My gaze drifts to the windshield, and my heart stutters as the familiar skyline of the magic district looms ahead like a nightmare given form.
The weight of the place presses down on me before we even enter its borders, and my skin crawls with memories of what those witches did to Fi and me. Every curse they whispered, every mark they left on our bodies, every moment of terror and helplessness comes flooding back like poison in my veins.
My hands grip the seat, nails digging into the fabric until it threatens to tear.
A low growl rumbles up from my chest, primal and dangerous, and the urge to shift surges through me with violent intensity.
I want to let my wolf tear through these streets and destroy everything in our path.
I want to watch my mates burn the entire magic district to the ground and salt the earth where it stood.
The thought flickers in the back of my mind like a flame waiting for kindling—a dangerous temptation that grows stronger with every passing second.
I breathe in deeply, trying to calm the wild energy thrumming under my skin, but the memories are too strong.
Part of me wants to give in to the rage, to let it consume everything until nothing remains but ash and silence.
Khal's hand rests on the back of my neck, and he pulls me in for a kiss that derails my homicidal thoughts instantly.
For a few moments, all I can feel is the pressure of his lips moving against mine, and my brain takes its sweet time catching up.
The storm inside me quiets, my scattered thoughts dissolving into warmth as I kiss him back, sinking into his touch.
The rage subsides, melting into something softer as I become putty in his hands.
He sips at my lips for a few more moments before pulling away, a small, satisfied smile on his face.
"There's my precious," Khal whispers, his voice like velvet, soothing the edges of my frayed nerves.
"We know they did so many horrible things to you and Fi.
Everyone will get what they deserve in the end.
" His eyes flicker serpentine for a heartbeat before returning to normal, and the subtle reminder of his power—coiled beneath his calm exterior like a viper waiting to strike—sends a shiver down my spine.
Before I can respond, Easton speaks, his voice unnervingly calm.
"Diaval and I already said we want to burn the council and the magic district to the ground.
" He says it so casually, like he's discussing the weather, and my head snaps toward him.
I catch the way his lips curve in a slight smirk, his eyes burning with a dangerous promise that makes the phoenix in him seem far more terrifying than any flame.
"Let's find out what Fi and her gang discovered before we light the world on fire and litter the streets with bodies."
Torben's jaw drops, his shock so palpable it almost makes me laugh. The usually stoic, haughty doctor casually talking about mass destruction like it's a walk in the park has him whipping his head back and forth between Easton and me, searching for some kind of explanation.
I just shrug, a smirk tugging at my lips. "He's got a point. Fi might know something we don't—something that could spare a few beings." I nod, trying to believe the words coming out of my mouth, but the bloodlust simmers just beneath the surface, hungry and patient.
"She may add more names to the list," Khal adds smoothly.
"Knowing my brother, there's at least six I can name right now without hesitation.
If the plan is to wipe the slate clean..
." Torben turns to stare at Khal now, his wide eyes filled with disbelief, and I can't help it—laughter bubbles up, spilling from my lips at the look on his face.
"It really shouldn't shock you, Tor." I reach out, my fingers wrapping around his large hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. His skin is warm beneath mine, the steady pulse of his strength calming. "We've got two weapons of mass destruction in the front seats."
I nod toward Easton and Diaval, both sitting unnervingly still, like predators waiting for the right moment to pounce. Easton at least tries to look sheepish, his lips twitching. Diaval doesn't bother with the pretense—his eyes flicker with faint amusement, ready for the chaos to unfold.
"And in the backseat, we've got our very own chemist and gangster," I continue, jerking my chin toward Khal with a laugh that carries an edge sharper than the joke implies.
"So yeah, he'll do what needs to be done.
" The weight of our reality sits heavily between us, unspoken yet understood by everyone in this vehicle.
I squeeze Torben's hands again, tilting my head to search his face.
There's a storm brewing inside him, the kind that makes the air around us thick and buzzing with unspent energy.
"I know when you finally lose your temper, the world will feel it happen," I murmur, my voice low.
"Berserkers are no joke when they're mad. "
A faint blush creeps up his cheeks, his shoulders stiffening. "I don't like getting angry," he admits quietly. "Sometimes... it takes days to calm down once I get to that point."
"You didn't have me before," I whisper, leaning in to kiss him softly, the brief connection grounding us both in the moment. His lips are warm, steadying, but my mind isn't at ease. Not with the thought gnawing at the edges of my sanity like a wolf at a bone.
"It'll all work out in the end," I say, pulling back with a small smile. But the words taste hollow, even to me, because the question I don't dare voice lingers in the darkness of my thoughts—heavy as a storm cloud waiting to break, dangerous as the ice that flows through my veins.
Who's going to stop me when I finally lose my temper?
My wolf stirs at the thought, and for the first time, I can't tell if her anticipation fills me with hope or dread.
Maybe both.
Maybe that's exactly what they should be afraid of.