The ground blurs beneath my feet.

Branches whip at my arms, snag my clothes, but I don't stop. My lungs burn. My legs scream. I run harder.

The last of the fractured sunlight has long disappeared, leaving the sky bruised with night, and somewhere behind me—too close—another howl splits the air. It echoes, low and full of promise.

He's shifted.

My pulse surges. I push harder.

Think, Rhea.

It's hard to focus with my breath carving itself through my lungs, but I try. I have to try. Torn between instinct and memory, I try to remember everything anyone's ever told me about wolves. About the forest. About werewolves. About survival.

But all I have are memories of Lila talking about flowers and the younger werewolves sparring. Nora talking about balance, about give and take. My mother laughing about how she liked the stink of sky pilot.

There's no wolfsbane growing here that I can poison him with. The elevation is too low for the stinky flowers. There's no balance but one: predator and prey.

A branch slices across my cheek, yanking me back to the moment. I stagger, catch myself on a pine trunk slick with sap, then keep going.

There has to be water nearby.

The wind shifts as if it hears my silent plea, blowing the mineral tang of snowmelt. I veer left, sprinting down slope until the forest opens to a shallow ravine. A narrow stream tumbles through it, half-hidden by leaning cottonwoods and granite boulders. In the low light, the water is black.

I plunge in.

My skin screams. My breath catches. Despite the summer, the water is ice, glacial, numbing me to the knees.

If he's shifted, I tell myself, he'll be relying on scent. On my tracks.

I shed my blouse and let it float downstream. I dip my head under the tiny current until my teeth chatter. I'll erase my sent. I'll erase my tracks. My slacks drag, heavy and soaked, but I force myself to wade upstream, sloshing and stumbling as I go.

Behind me, I hear nothing. No crashing in the undergrowth. No snarls. No heavy breathing other than me own.

Which doesn't mean he isn't close. My wolf whines.

Once I've gone as far as I can tolerate, I clamber out on the far side. Mud sucks between my numb toes. My limbs feel like lead.

There's a tangle of brush ahead, a thick copse of juniper and low shrubs. I duck into it, dropping to my knees to catch my breath. Just for a second.

I smell it before I see it.

A sprawl of arrowleaf, their bright yellow faces dim in the dusk. I lurch toward it, tearing up the roots. I crush them between my fingers, smear the resin on my skin. My neck, my wrists, the insides of my elbows. I rake the roots and leaves through my damp hair.

The pungent balsam fir—almost chocolatey—smell is thick around me. It makes it hard to smell anything else. But if it masks my scent, it's worth it.

I don't need magic wolf powers.

I repeat it in my head, like a spell. Like armor.

I didn't need a law degree to beat Crestline. I'm clever. I'm fast. I know what Kade wants.

A hunt.

Let him have one.

I draw myself back to my feet, shaking from cold and adrenaline. The forest rises around me like a dark cathedral. The moon hasn't risen yet, but the sky grows blacker and darker with each breath. A narrow band of stars burns from above.

Not much time left.

You better hope I catch you before moonrise.

I don't plan on being caught at all.

My breath rattles in my chest as I move through the undergrowth, slower now, deliberate. I keep my steps light, careful.

He's faster than me. Stronger. But the closer we get to moonrise, the more he'll fall to instinct.

Which means my only advantage is strategy.

I backtrack, circling around a cluster of boulders slick with lichen. If I can confuse his sense of direction, break the trail, maybe I can lead him somewhere tight—somewhere small enough that his wolf form won't have room to follow. A narrow draw. A drop. Something.

I pass a fallen log riddles with termites and, just beyond it, a small game trail. Worn and overhung, the type of trail where deer brush their antlers and leave tangled fur. I slide down the hill, careful not to leave too much disturbance. Every footprint is a beacon. Every twig a liability.

Just when I don't know if I can run any further, I find it. A crumbling ridge, high one side, a short rise on the other. An easy place to jump down, but hard to scale back up.

If I can get him to come at me full speed, and then dive to the side... My hands tremble as I gather loose brush, creating a shallow nest of broken bramble to disguise the slope. A fall here wouldn't kill him, but it might give me a lead. A distraction.

I know it's an insane plan, but I'm not sure how much longer I can run. My feet are bleeding. My muscles shot. He'll find my trail eventually, I know it.

Something in me shifts.

Warmth.

A flicker, barely more than a breath, but it pulses through the mating bond like a single ember in a long-dead fire. My heart lurches. I press my palm to my chest.

Beau.

I stumble up the rise, scanning the trees. At first I think it's the wind, a trick of the shadows as the moon peeks from the horizon. But then I see movement. A gray wolf with golden eyes.

Beau shifts slowly, almost painfully. The air reeks of ozone and sweat and something sickly when he finishes, standing before me, panting. Staggering.

"Beau?" I rasp, voice shredded with my lack of breath.

He stumbles again, almost drops to a knee. His naked body is soaked with sweat, his skin sallow. His thunderstorm eyes are dim, eerily pale. It seems impossible that I left him yesterday. That I decided that the best thing I could do for him was leave. It feels like years and years have been lost between us, and somehow there's been no time lost at all.

"Wolfsbane," he explains. His voice is almost as ruined as mine. He pants between words. "Nora dosed me. I think she meant to keep me from shifting. So I couldn't find you."

"I know," I say, because it's starting to make sense.

A beat passes as Beau catches his breath. He lifts his head fully, and something cracks open in his face. "I thought the black wolf was with the pack," he murmurs, like it physically aches to have been wrong. Like he's apologizing for something that can't possibly be his fault. "I was tracking the wrong wolves."

I start to tell him that I know, that it's okay, but he doesn't let me speak. "I should've never let you leave." He closes the space between us slowly. The scent of pine and sunshine is suppressed, but it's there. "You were wrong. The bond won't fade for me. I won't let it."

My throat tightens. The warmth in the bond pulses again, spreads. All of the frayed threads start to twist themselves back together. The void, however, doesn't dissolve completely. And the realization crashes around me.

Beau wasn't closing off the bond, not entirely. I can feel the muted sincerity he's trying to project, the honestly of his words. The wolfsbane muted it, hollowed into the silent void. He wasn't trying to reject it.

"I love you, Rhea Dawson," Beau says, the words low. "Your smart fucking mouth. The way you pretend you don't care when really, you'd fight for strangers you barely know. I love that you drive a hybrid and buy coffee from mom and pop stores. That you push back when I'm being stubborn. That you're stubborn. I love you. All of it. All of you."

There's so much more that needs to be said, but my brain is half-drunk with the confession, with the bright flare of love and protectiveness and stubbornness that burns through the connection between us. Beau pulls me to him, hard, and buries his face in my neck, fingers brushing the bond mark. "Shift or no shift, I don't care," he murmurs into my skin. "I'm not leaving here without you."

I don't get a chance to respond—to point out that we haven't solved any of our issues. I'm still a liability. I don't want to live tucked away in his cabin. His pack doesn't entirely accept me. He's still a stubborn alpha asshole who struggles with letting me help—because a growl rolls across the ridge.

Kade's massive wolf form emerges from the brush. Dark and broad-shouldered, his bright amber eyes catching the starlight. His muzzle curls.

Beau turns, pushing me behind me.

"Run," he grits out. His words are heavy with alpha command, like he knows I won't leave him. "Now."

But his shift is sluggish. Painful. His muscles shake, his spine warping unevenly as the transformation overtakes him. Fur grows and recedes, skin tears. What normally comes so effortlessly has become unbearable to watch, grotesque and somehow pitiful as his groan turns into a whine.

Kade barely only waits for Beau's eyes to turn fully gold before he launches himself into an attack. The two wolves clash in a frenzy of fur and fangs, sound and violence exploding through the clearing. Beau holds his ground, snarling, but he's slower. Off-balance. Kade slams into him with monstrous strength, jaws snapping for the throat.

Beau dodges. Barely. Not enough. Dark blood spatters cross the pine needles.

My heart wrenches. I should run. I have to run. That's what Beau ordered. But I can't move.

The full moon crests the trees.

I scream.

The sound tears out of me. Something deep, primal. It's as if my body splits open from the inside out, starting at the burning bond mark at my shoulder. Fire lances through my spine, a flash of white-hot agony that drops me to the ground. Every joint dislocates. Every muscle tears. My limbs convulse. Bones snap. I'm shrinking and expanding all at once.

I can't breathe. Can't think. The pain swallows everything.

I scream again, my voice breaking on a sound that is no longer human.

My skin splits. My vision fractures. I can hear the tear of fabric, my own pained whimpers. The forest is suddenly too loud, too bright. Every color sharper, every sound clearer. My nose floods with the scent of pine and blood. Of my mate.

My wolf finally breaks free.

When the pain recedes, I stand on four legs. I blink once, twice.

I'm not human anymore, but I'm somehow still me.

My light gray fur flashes silver in the moonlight. My paws crush the brush beneath me. I'm huge. Massive. Nearly as large as Kade, but my mind is intact—steady. My wolf and I move together. Two hearts in sync.

Kade turns from Beau, startled.

Just for a breath, a heartbeat.

But it's enough.

I lunge.

My new body is fast—terrifyingly fast. I crash into him like a wave, my teeth aimed for the thick fur at his neck. We tumble through the brush, snarling and snapping, until my paws find purchase and I drive him backward.

Kade recovers quickly. Too quickly. He's stronger, heavier, more experienced. His teeth sink into my flank, drawing blood. The pain is sharp, but it doesn't stop me. My wolf snarls in my throat as we twist out of Kade's jaws, kicking and snapping.

We circle each other, teeth bared, the moonlight catching the silver in my fur, the amber of his eyes. I can smell his surprise. His rage. The bitter musk of his pride turning to confusion.

He didn't think I could shift.

Good.

He lunges again, jaws wide, aiming for my shoulder. I twist, throwing my weight to the side. His teeth graze fur but don't catch. Before he can regain his balance, I slam into him, driving him back. Back toward the ridge. Back toward the slope I'd hidden with branches and debris.

Kade growls, biting at my legs, my neck. I tackle him, and we roll. He kicks hard, throwing me off. I skid across the pine needle, my ribs aching.

The black wolf comes at me again, lip curled, eyes narrowed with dark promise.

But I'm not prey anymore.

I duck low when he lunges, letting his momentum carry him forward. Then I twist, nip at his heels. I lead him. Herd him. Not just with teeth and speed and strength, but with control. With clear human thought guiding my wolf. I feint. I taunt. I bait.

And Kade—

Kade gives into instinct.

He goes for the killing blow, wide open, all weight and fury.

And at the last minute, I dive. Twist. I sink my teeth into his hind leg.

He howls, raw and furious, as I clamp down.

I don't let go. I drag him down. I shake him.

My teeth tear muscle. His claws rake my shoulders. The air is full of blood.

He kicks again. Breaks free. Stumbles. Limping as we circle each other.

Amber eyes burn with hatred, but there's hesitation there now too.

Still, he coils, prepares to tear out my throat.

And when he does, I shift, slam into him with my shoulder.

His wounded leg can't find purchase on the sloped granite. He slips.

He falls.

It's not a steep enough fall to kill him. I know that. But there's no easy way to scramble back up the ridge. If he's going to kill me, he's going to have to do it on his injured leg, with me waiting. Wolf against wolf. A fight where he's the one now disadvantaged.

With a low howl, he seems to realize it. The black wolf takes off into the dark forest.

I start to give chase, to leap from the ridge in pursuit. My wolf aches for it. She wants me to end this.

But Beau makes a low, pained whimper behind me.

I stop.

Turn.

And run back.

Beau's shifted back to human form, naked and curled on his side, blood coating his chest and ribs. He's shaking, gray-lipped, his eyes glassy with pain and wolfsbane. With my enhanced senses, he smells terrible and wrong.

I nudge him gently with my nose.

"Rhea," he murmurs. "You shifted."

I huff softly and press my muzzle into his hand. His fingers curl weakly into my fur, but he smiles.

"Good girl," he breathes. "You're so pretty."

My wolf whines, both with pride and worry. She pulls at the reigns, demanded that we lick his wounds, ease his pain the only way she knows how. Though my human instincts balk at the idea, I surrender control to her.

We lick at the broken skin, purring, before we curl around him protectively. Beau murmurs something incomprehensible as he eases into sleep, against our warm body. We keep watch as the stars wheel above us and the full moon bathes the forest in silver.