24. Annabella
Chapter twenty-four
Annabella
Every step back from the Bottley cost me.
My ribs felt like they were grinding together with each stride.
My wrists throbbed where the silver burns were still knitting themselves together, tight and hot under the gauze.
The silver from Adarcan’s walls and floors was still leaching out of my system, and it left me feeling scraped hollow.
Wrong in my own skin. Like someone had taken my insides out, rinsed them in bleach, and shoved them back in crooked.
But I kept my shoulders back and my expression calm as Esme and Jem walked me to the Shaw house door.
“Thank you,” I said. “For the coffee and the fresh air.”
Esme tilted her head, and I got the impression she knew exactly what I was feeling. “Rest now. Let the tangles loosen.”
Jem studied me with that quiet intensity of his.
It was easy to forget he used to be the Alpha of this Pack, before his mate tried to kill him, before his sister Mai killed her to protect him.
I wondered how hard it was for him to still be here; the former Alpha, staying out of the way, not interfering, so Mai and Ryan could rule.
“The hardest battles aren’t the ones that leave scars on your skin,” he said.
“They’re the ones where you have to learn to stop fighting yourself long enough to heal.
” He paused, then added with the barest hint of a smile.
“What we mean, me and Esme, is that you’ll be safe here. We can be your Pack, if you’ll let us.”
My throat closed. I managed a nod before they turned and left, and I stood on the porch watching them go. Jem’s hand found Esme’s as they walked, and she leaned into him.
We can be your Pack.
The words sat in my chest, warm and painful at the same time.
I pushed through the front door and found Sam pacing the living room like a wolf denied his territory. He stopped the second I entered, and those eyes—Felix’s eyes, Sam’s eyes, same damn thing and I was done pretending otherwise—swept over me with the kind of focus that made my skin prickle.
“You’re in pain.”
Hex it. How did he always know?
I moved past him toward the stairs, needing my room, needing space to breathe without being near him and whatever the hell he smelled like that made my wolf press forward every time he got close.
“You should eat something.”
“I’m fine.”
“Right. You look about thirty seconds from faceplanting on the stairs, but sure.”
My temper flared, hot and fast. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Shaw.”
“I’m not babysitting. Babysitters get listened to occasionally,” he growled.
“Funny. Keep it up, and I’ll add comedian to the list of things you’re bad at.”
He stepped closer, and my skin warmed with awareness of exactly how close he was. I hated that I could track him without looking.
“Thomas said you need to Shift. It’s the fastest way to heal.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“That’s not happening. I’m not Shifting.”
“Annabella—”
“I said no.” I gripped the banister.
“When was the last time you Shifted?”
I froze.
“Why don’t you add that to the list of questions that are none of your business?”
“I’m serious, Annabella.”
The look on his face wasn’t judgmental or full of pity. It was worse; it was understanding. Like he already knew the answer and was giving me the chance to say it out loud.
“Your ability to partial Shift is fucking incredible.”
My throat went tight at the memory of when he’d found out I could do that. He hadn’t been repulsed or horrified. He’d looked at me like I’d done something extraordinary. Like what I was, was extraordinary.
“But that’s not what I’m asking about.” He stayed where he was, giving me the stairs, the high ground. “When was the last time you did a full Shift, Annabella? A full transformation into your wolf.”
My hand tightened on the banister until the wood bit into my palm. I couldn’t answer. The truth was ugly and shameful; I was terrified of my own wolf. Terrified I’d broken something fundamental by denying that part of myself for so long.
“How long, Annabella? How long since you let your wolf run free?”
“What if I’ve forgotten how?” The words came out small. Scared. Everything I’d trained myself never to be. “What if I can’t remember? What if I get stuck halfway? Some monstrous thing that’s neither wolf nor woman?”
He walked up a step, and I could see he understood. Really understood.
“Or what if she won’t let me come back?” My voice cracked. “What if I’ve kept her locked away for so long that when I finally open that cage, she takes over? What if I lose myself completely?”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He held out his hand. “Let me help you. Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Into the woods.”
A bitter laugh scraped out of me. “Why the hell would I trust you with that?”
He didn’t look away. Didn’t joke. For once, there was no Felix charm, no deflection. Just Sam.
“Because you walked through my memories, Annabella. You saw all of me: the duty, the loneliness, the person I was before the Council ground me down. You saw the horrors I’ve seen, what I’ve done. You saw who I really am.”
I stared at him, not able to move, even blink.
“Your wolf isn’t separate from you. She is you.
Me and my wolf aren’t two different beings.
We’re one.” His voice was certain in a way I envied.
“I’ve watched you fight. I’ve seen you protect your crew, sacrifice everything for your sister.
That strength? That fierce, stubborn, infuriating loyalty?
That’s your wolf, too, Annabella. She’s been there all along, in every choice you’ve made.
You just haven’t let her show herself fully. ”
His eyes held mine, and there was absolutely no trace of doubt in them.
“If you get stuck, I’ll be right there. If you need help coming back, I’ll talk you through it. But you won’t lose yourself, because there’s no separate self to lose. There’s just you, finally whole.” He held out his hand again. “Trust me. Just this once.”
I stared at his outstretched hand. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, hopeful and yearning. When was the last time I’d let her free? When was the last time I’d felt whole? Could I do this? Could I trust him with me and her?
I walked past him toward the door. “You coming or not, Shaw?”
The woods behind the Shaw house were coming alive with spring’s tentative arrival.
Sam led me deeper into the trees, following a path where green shoots were pushing up through the dead leaves.
The afternoon sun filtered through pine branches and the bare limbs of maples beginning to bud, their tips hazed with that particular red-green that promised leaves within days.
We reached a small clearing carpeted in pine needles and early wildflowers, tiny white and purple things between tree roots.
A fallen log on one side wore a coat of bright green moss that caught the filtered light.
“Here,” Sam said, stopping. “This is good.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly chilled, and my bravado disappeared. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can.” He moved to stand a few feet away. “Your wolf is there, Annabella. She’s always been there.”
“My mom was terrified,” I said, and the words spilled out before I could stop them. “Every time I Shifted as a kid, the silver-green glow would appear. It marked me as different. As the witch-bitch. She made me promise never to be in wolf form around the rest of the Pack.”
“She was trying to protect you. I understand that. But you’re not in that Pack anymore.” Sam’s voice was firm. “And you’re not a child anymore. You’re Annabella McGrath, and you’re powerful in ways they could never understand.”
“What if I can’t Shift back?”
“You will. I’ll be right here.”
My hands shook. “What if my wolf is as angry as I am? What if I can’t control her?”
“Your anger isn’t wrong, Annabella. It’s how you’ve survived. But there’s more to you than survival mode.” He paused, then turned his back to me. “I’ll give you privacy. Take your time.”
I couldn’t stop the tremble in my hands as I stripped off, the spring air raising goosebumps across my skin. I folded everything carefully, placed the bundle by the mossy log, needing that small ritual of control before I surrendered to something bigger.
“Okay,” I said. Barely a sound.
“Close your eyes,” Sam said, still facing away. “Reach for her.”
I took a breath and closed my eyes. Reached inward.
She was there. Howling hell, she was there, closer to the surface than I’d realized. Eager. Desperate. She’d been waiting years for this moment.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“I know. Dare you to do it anyway.”
I let out a shaky breath and stopped fighting.
The Shift started slow, a ripple beneath my skin.
My bones remembered what my mind had tried to forget.
Pain lanced through me as the change spread from my center outward.
But I let it come. This pain wasn’t punishment.
It was like pieces of myself I’d locked away for years finally, finally breaking free.
Next came my silver-green glow. Then my bones restructured, joints popping and reforming.
Dark fur erupted across my skin but as the Shift completed, I could feel the truth of what I’d done to myself.
I could feel every rib jutting out, sharp ridges beneath fur that was too thin, too dull.
My muscles felt wasted, weak where they should have been dense with power, trembling where they should have been steady.
A healthy wolf my age should have been strong, sleek, built for speed and endurance.
I felt like a stray that had been living on scraps and rainwater.
But I was here. I was whole, wolf and witch and woman. I was free.
My senses opened up like a door blown off its hinges.