Chapter 18
Griff
Watching Tamsin ride Elias’s cock was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Now, though, with the reality of our imminent arrival settling in, the heat in my blood cooled, replaced by a familiar, grim focus. The sun was setting on the horizon, and it would be dark soon, which is how we wanted to approach England because we didn’t want any more eyes on us than necessary.
I kept my hands steady on the wheel as Elias helped a shaky, beautifully disheveled Tamsin into her clothing once again.
Her movements were slow, her limbs a bit loose.
When she was finally dressed, she came to stand beside me, her gaze fixed on the approaching coastline.
The wind whipped her dark hair across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear, her expression once again that of the leader I’d followed through hell and back.
“Status,” she said, her voice a little hoarse but steady.
“We’ll be in sight of the cove within the hour,” I reported, my eyes on the water ahead. “No patrol boats spotted yet. I’ve seen no signs of anyone else either.”
“Keep it that way,” she replied. “I want to be a ghost.”
I nodded. “Ghost it is.”
Behind us, the others were gathering their gear.
Nox rolled his shoulders, sheathed his blades, and glanced toward the bow like he could will the coastline to come closer already.
Bishop checked that his weapons were in neat order, laying them all out and checking them over.
Eamon was triple checking the medical kit. Again.
“Anything we need to know before we land?” Elias asked out loud, coming up to stand beside Tamsin.
“I’ve run this shoreline before,” Nox said.
“Smuggling routes, years ago. If it’s still the same, the rocks north of the cove are high enough to block view from any patrols inland.
There’s an old walking path that used to be maintained.
It should lead us straight to the edge of the village if it hasn’t overgrown. ”
Tamsin gave a single nod.
The wind shifted. Land drew closer. I could see dark shapes against the dusky horizon. We slowed the engine, coasting in as quietly as we could, cutting the motor just short of the cove and letting the boat drift the rest of the way in.
We disembarked in near silence, boots hitting wet sand, sea spray clinging to our clothes. The air here was cooler than the Isle of Man, and it made a shiver cascade down my spine.
Still, we moved fast. Nox led the way, guiding us over the rolling hills and into the tree line, following memory and instinct until the brush gave way to the overgrown remains of what used to be a road.
Our breath fogged slightly as the temperature dropped, and the sounds of the ocean faded behind us.
After nearly an hour of hiking under cover of trees and darkness, the first village we encountered emerged like a ghost from the landscape.
I saw crumbled stone walls, sagging roofs, and windows long since boarded or broken.
No lights. No movement. Just silence and the ghosts of the memory of lives once lived here.
We approached a chapel at the far end of the village. It had a half-collapsed roof, and the remnants of stained-glass windows glinted in the moonlight. A soft whistle carried through the air. Two notes. To an untrained ear, it might have sounded like an owl.
It wasn’t.
We stopped.
Elias raised his hand, and I stepped ahead first.
A figure emerged from behind the stone arch, a woman. She was in her mid-forties, lean, and had hair buzzed close to her scalp. She wore shabby clothes and moved like someone who didn’t expect comfort from the world anymore.
“Name?” she asked, voice low.
“Griff Madoc,” I answered.
Her eyes scanned the rest of us, lingering on Tamsin. “You’re with the Accord?”
Tamsin stepped forward. “We are.”
The woman nodded. “Call me Lyndsey. I’ve got six beds, some food, and letters left for you. Come inside before someone sees something.”
We entered in single file, ducking through the sagging doorway.
Inside, the chapel smelled like old stone and damp wood, but it was warm enough.
The pews had been cleared out, replaced with a few bedrolls, crates of supplies, and a makeshift hearth.
Candles flickered from the altar, where someone had arranged old bottles and tins into the shape of a cross.
Lyndsey set a battered pot down near the hearth. “It’s not fancy,” she said, already ladling. “But it’s hot.”
Steam rose, carrying the smell of onions and barley, something meaty beneath it. I guessed that it was rabbit, maybe, or goat. There were chunks of carrot and turnip floating near the surface, as well as some green herbs.
“Hot is fancy these days,” Nox grinned approvingly.
She snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”
She handed out tin bowls and rough slices of dense dark bread baked that morning by the look of it. Eamon accepted his with visible gratitude, testing the stew with a cautious sip before he smiled softly.
“This is good,” he praised. “You’ve got a talented hand with seasoning.”
Lyndsey smiled at that, pleased. “Been feeding people on the move a long time.”
We settled around a cleared space where pews had once been, sitting on crates and folded blankets, and ate in silence. Then Lyndsey reached into a small lockbox and handed Tamsin two folded letters.
“Your friends left these for you,” she said.
Tamsin set her bowl aside, wiped her hands on her trousers, and unfolded the first with care.
I watched her face as she read.
A smile tugged at her mouth, just a little.
She handed the page to Elias, then to me.
Tam—
We made it here without trouble. Mostly.
I may have briefly gotten into an argument with Magnus about whether stopping to help a stranded family was ‘on mission.’
I won.
Thorne backed me up, which shocked everyone, including Thorne.
We’re heading on like you said. After helping that family.
Be careful though. Don’t forget to eat. And if you get yourself killed, I will personally resurrect you just to kill you again.
—Zara
Nox barked a laugh. “That sounds exactly like her.”
Griff shook his head fondly. “Magnus never stood a chance.”
Tamsin’s expression softened, but she folded the letter neatly before opening the second.
This one made her exhale through her nose, but when she was done, she passed it around.
Tamsin,
Your instructions were clear. We followed them. Mostly.
Along the way, Jamie tried to leap over a fence, tripped over it, and blamed Declan for not warning him about gravity. Edward found a stash of old canned peaches and nearly had a coronary.
You were right about the route. About the timing. About all of it. We’re making better time than we planned, and nothing’s tried to kill us yet, which I’m counting as a personal favor from the universe.
Keep your head down and don’t be a martyr. We’ll see you again soon.
—Sera
Bishop smiled faintly. “That’s… unexpectedly gentle coming from her.”
“Don’t tell her you said that. She seems like the type to take offense to that,” Nox replied.
Tamsin held both letters for a moment, thumb smoothing the creases. When she looked up, her gaze flicked to each one of us in turn.
“We move at first light,” she announced.
“After getting some rest,” Eamon added pointedly.
Tamsin shot him a look. “I’m resting right now.”
“You’re eating,” he corrected. “That’s not the same.”
She accepted the distinction with a huff and picked up her bowl again. I did the same. The stew warmed all the way through me, simple and solid. Bread soaked it up nicely, and for a few minutes the only sounds were spoons scraping metal and the wind moving through broken glass high above us.
Lyndsey leaned against a pillar, watching us eat for a while before she spoke.
“Most packs I see,” she said, voice casual but her eyes keenly intelligent, “are heading the other way.”
I looked up. “What do you mean?”
“North. West. Anywhere that puts water and distance between them and London.” She tipped her chin toward Tamsin. “I spend my time getting wolves out of the city. Not walking them back toward it.”
The room went quiet.
Tamsin set her spoon down slowly. “That’s usually the right move.”
“Usually,” Lyndsey agreed. “So… I’m curious why a group like yours is doing the opposite.”
Elias didn’t answer. Neither did I. We both glanced at Tamsin to see what she would say.
“We’re not going back for family or friends,” Tamsin said. “And we’re not going back to make a point either.”
Lyndsey studied her. “Then why go at all?”
“Because they’re using a drug,” Tamsin said. “Something that makes wolves lose control and go feral. We’ve seen the results firsthand, and Bishop here saw where it’s being done.”
Bishop inclined his head slightly but didn’t add anything.
Lyndsey exhaled and leaned back against the stone. “Then you’re heading in to confirm it? And then what?”
“Stop it if we can,” Tamsin said. “Or at least slow it down. Break the supply chain. Expose them as much as possible.”
“That’s not a small job,” Lyndsey said.
“No,” Tamsin agreed. “But staying put isn’t an option anymore either.”
Lyndsey glanced around the chapel, at the weapons stacked neatly, at each of our faces. Then she looked back at Tamsin.
“Clear out before dawn,” Lyndsey said, picking up her bowl again. “I’ll make sure no one comes looking for you or your friends.”
“We appreciate it,” Tamsin replied.
Lyndsey waved it off with a lopsided grin. “Just save the world and we’ll call it even.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Tamsin smirked.
“I’m turning in,” Lyndsey said, already moving toward a narrow side door set into the stone. “Candles are by the altar; water pump’s outside if you need it. I’ll be up before dawn.”
Tamsin nodded. “Thank you. For all of it.”
Lyndsey paused at the doorway, glanced back once. “I just want to tell you lot good luck,” she murmured. Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
“All right,” Elias said softly. “Let’s settle in.”
We didn’t waste any time.
Eamon gathered the bowls and stacked them neatly by the wash basin. “I’ll clean these in the morning,” he said, already making a mental checklist.
Bishop checked the doors again, then took up a position near the side window. He didn’t sit yet. He just stood there, listening.
Nox rolled out bedrolls, testing the floorboards with his heel before choosing where to lay them. “If anyone tries to come through the north wall,” he muttered, “I’ll hear it.”
“Charming bedtime story,” Tamsin smirked.
He flashed her a grin. “I’m a veritable bard.”
I shrugged out of my coat and spread it near the edge of the cleared space, close enough to Tamsin that I could be there if she woke. The stone floor held the day’s cold, seeping through boots and bones, but the chapel walls blocked the worst of the wind.
Tamsin sat on a crate and unlaced her boots with a quiet sigh. Then she stood, stretched, and rolled her shoulders like she was trying to work the last of the tension out. She caught me watching and tilted her head.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she said.
“Just checking the room,” I replied.
“Mm.” She stepped closer and leaned her shoulder into my arm for half a second.
Elias moved to her other side, resting a hand briefly at her back. “Get some rest,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about anything tonight.”
She looked between us, eyes warm, but her brows were drawn with the slightest hint of concern. “You’ll wake me if you need me.”
“Yes,” Elias said. “But only if we need you.”
Nox snorted softly. “Bossy, the pair of you.”
“Pot,” Tamsin said.
“Kettle,” I added.
I grinned.
Eamon finally sat, rubbing his temples. “I’ll take first watch with Bishop,” he said. “Two hours each. Then we swap.”
Bishop inclined his head. “That works.”
Nox flopped onto a bedroll with a dramatic exhale. “Wake me if anything explodes.”
“That’s your bar?” Tamsin asked.
“It’s flexible,” he replied.
I lay back, hands folded behind my head, staring up at the cracked ceiling. The place had history. People had worshipped and prayed here once upon a time. Probably still did, in their own ways.
Beside me, Tamsin settled down, boots off now, knees drawn up to her chest.
I turned my head slightly. “You okay?”
She met my eyes. “Yeah. Just… adjusting.”
“Following instead of leading?” I asked.
She smiled faintly. “Something like that.”
The candles were snuffed one by one until only a single flame remained near the altar. Shadows enveloped the space. The sounds of the village outside were minimal. Just the constant wind and the distant surf.
Eamon and Bishop moved to their posts, murmuring quietly to each other. Nox went still, the way he did when he was actually resting, but I knew he was still listening.
Tamsin shifted closer, her shoulder brushing mine again. I didn’t move away.
Tomorrow would be hard. Life on the road always was and this time, we were running straight toward the fire instead of away from it.
But tonight, in a ruined chapel with stone walls and borrowed warmth, we were fed, rested, and safe.
And that counted for something.