Chapter 20-Rosalind
After getting my ass handed to me by Daniel Devlin for screwing up my first assignment as an Enforcer, I didn’t bother arguing.
Didn’t defend myself.
Didn’t explain.
I just tore out of his office, shifted the second I cleared his property, and I let my Bear take over.
I needed space.
Silence.
Time where no one expected anything from me.
Time to think.
Time to break a little.
First, I’m a mated Bear without a mate.
The bond is there—burning, aching, incomplete—but the other half of it is gone. Or worse, gone by choice. That alone feels like walking around with half my ribs missing.
Second, I’m pretty sure I just got fired from the Enforcer unit.
Daniel didn’t say the words outright, but the disappointment in his eyes was worse than anger.
I failed my first real assignment.
Let personal feelings cloud judgment. Compromised the mission.
Fucking perfect, Rosalind.
Third—and this one is like a bonus hurt I wasn;t expecting—I gained and lost a best friend in the span of a few weeks.
Hope.
That part stings in a quieter way.
Because she did call me.
Because her voice sounded real. Concerned. Warm.
Like maybe we weren’t pretending anymore.
But if I’m friends with Hope, how do I ever see her again and not see Honor?
The thought knots my chest tight.
This is hard.
And confusing.
And I hate that there’s no clean line through it.
Morning bleeds into afternoon as I wander through the woods that stretch across Barvale.
People always underestimate New Jersey—think it’s all highways and concrete—but there’s a surprising amount of forest here.
Old growth. Dense.
Perfect for Bears like us.
Normally, the woods calm me.
Today, they just echo.
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don’t realize exactly where I’m heading until the scent hits me.
Pine.
Wood smoke.
Familiar human warmth.
I slow.
Then I stop.
I’m in the woods behind the D’Amato-Orson property. My Bear took me to the one place I should never go. By him.
Shit.
It makes sense. Even without permission to search here, my Bear still wants to protect Honor. Both parts of me still want to make sure he’s safe.
It was probably just some random wild animal making that noise and causing a ruckus.
But better safe than sorry. Because for him? For Honor? I know there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep him protected.
Whether or not he wants it. Whether or not he wants me.
Sadness creeps in quietly, insidious and heavy.
Memories rise uninvited—barbecues on the back patio, laughter drifting through open windows, Hope bustling around with food, Miles grumbling about work, and Honor manning the grill.
Honor.
Always Honor. Tall and strong and handsome as sin.
He fills my thoughts like no one ever has. One night in his arms rewrote something fundamental inside me.
I can admit it now, alone in the trees.
I will never be the same. Not after him.
Then I think of the last time I saw him and how he must hate me, and a sound is ripped from my throat.
It’s raw and broken and it burns.
I bit him without permission.
Claimed what wasn’t mine to keep.
Triggered a change he wasn’t ready for.
I tore his world apart in the space of a heartbeat.
No, I don’t blame him for turning his back.
I don’t blame him for leaving.
But, oh my God, it still breaks my heart.
Whether I’m in my fur or my human body, it breaks my heart.
I’m not good at relationships. Never had one last. And yes, I know I’m not everyone’s taste.
I know I’m not what most people want or expect.
I’ve always been too tall, too big, too shy, too me.
And I’ve been alone for so long that maybe I mistook his intensity for fate. I convinced myself that my longing was belonging.
But I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t belong to anyone.
I’m not his.
He doesn’t want me.
But for a little while there, it felt so good.
Just to connect.
To be seen.
And I ruined it.
Maybe what my mother promised me all those years ago—about a mate, about a family—was all just a dream.
A dream that was never meant to be mine. Not to keep.
Maybe I’m just not mate material.
I stop in my tracks, my Bear surging forward inside me, tugging hard toward the yard I know is only a couple hundred yards away. Toward him.
She wants to go.
To see.
To confirm.
But I can’t.
He doesn’t want me.
And it’s with Honor heavy on my mind—heart aching, instincts dulled by grief—that I don’t notice the sound behind me until it’s already wrong.
Not a wild animal.
Not prey.
A growl too controlled. Too deliberate.
My spine stiffens.
“This one will do,” a voice murmurs from the shadows.
I whirl, a snarl ripping out of my throat as my Bear surges forward, claws itching, muscles coiling to strike.
Whoever it is has made a fatal mistake stepping onto Barvale Clan territory—pop.
Pain blooms in my chest, sharp and immediate, stealing my breath.
I look down in disbelief.
A dart.
Not a splinter. Not a stinger. A dart.
Recognition slams into me.
I know this kind. Wildlife officers used to use them in Barvale—putting down feral dogs or sedating wild animals that strayed too close to town.
I remember the sickly-sweet chemical smell, the dazed looks, the way they staggered before collapsing.
Before Furry Smiles put an end to that.
That’s what this is. A fucking tranquilizer.
And it’s in me.
I yank at it—but before I can tear it free—pop.
Another hits my shoulder.
Pop. Pop.
Two more shots hit me in rapid succession. Thigh. Side.
Each impact is a sharp, burning sting followed by something far worse.
Cold.
Heavy.
Wrong.
The drug hits my system like ice water flooding my veins.
My limbs turn sluggish, muscles stuttering and misfiring as my Bear recoils back inside me.
I feel my shift trying to take over as my fur recedes and my human body replaces it.
Inside, my Bear roars, slamming against the chemical fog invading our blood.
This isn’t a normal tranq.
No, this was designed by someone who knows about Shifters.
Forcing a change against my will? That’s some scary shit.
I try to get my brain to think.
But it’s hard to organize thoughts when your brain is clouded in a chemical fog, but then I try to put the pieces together.
The things I felt and sounds I heard behind Hope’s house during those early meals and get-togethers.
Growling.
A sense of being watched.
I wasn’t imagining it.
Whoever shot me is like me—a Shifter.
But what kind of Shifter uses a tranquilizer gun?
A coward.
A bastard.
Rage roars through me as I stagger forward, swiping blindly at the dark.
I get my hands to shift back into claws, shredding bark from the nearest tree as I fight to stay upright.
Leaves blur.
The ground tilts.
My legs finally give out.
I hit the forest floor hard, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.
The world spins, stars smearing across the sky as my vision starts to tunnel.
Boots crunch closer through the leaves.
Heavy. Unhurried.
I snarl—at least, I try to—but the sound comes out weak, broken.
“Fucking haughty females in this fucking Clan,” a voice sneers above me.
Not Shifted. Not fully. Just a man who wears his animal like a weapon.
He nudges my side with his boot, testing.
“Good thing I brought the tranquilizer gun, ain’t it, Farro?”
Another voice answers, rough and eager.
“Yeah, Junior. Good thing. She’s a big one.”
“Yep, but she’s got all the right parts. Landon will be pleased.”
“I suppose. But how’re we gonna know if she’s a breeder?”
Breeder.
The word hits harder than the darts.
My stomach twists violently.
Panic spikes through the haze, my Bear screaming in fury, in terror, in denial.
No. No no no.
“We’ll just have to see,” the shooter mutters, casual.
“I could sample—”
“No! She’s for Lando,” the shooter growls. “Gotta keep her fresh for when he gets back.”
Like they’re talking about livestock.
Like my body is just another resource to be used.
I dig my nails into the dirt, trying to push myself up, trying to fight.
My Bear thrashes, snapping and roaring, but the drug is dragging her down, smothering her beneath layers of chemical sleep.
My limbs refuse to obey.
My vision fractures.
“Oh, that’s cute. She’s fighting it.”
“This bitch will be fun to break. Lando’s gonna have a helluva time with her.”
I blink, finally getting the two men in my line of vision.
“Fuck you,” I say, but it comes out slurred.
“You will, darling. After Lando has you.”
The thought leaves me shaking.
And the last thing I see as they drape a tarp over my body and haul me up and into a rolling wheelbarrow of sorts is the night sky spinning above me—stars burning cold and distant, uncaring witnesses as the forest blurs in my drugged up vision.
I have one final thought, one last regret that lances my heart—Honor.
I’m so sorry, Honor.
My Bear chuffs sadly.
Then it all fades to nothing.