I stared at the vial of liquid in my hands.
The strange, faint glow of the fluid made my stomach roll. I was crouched behind the witches' shop, tucked into the shadows, the city's noise muted by the heavy thrum of my pulse. This—this unassuming little vial—was the only thing keeping Cameron and his pack from sniffing me out.
"This, little wolf, will provide the protection you seek," the older witch had said, her voice crackling like old paper. She and her silent partner had been too happy to take my blood, their pale faces lighting up like it was Christmas when I offered them two syringes of Luna blood.
One good thing about being Cameron's mate, I guess.
The trade had gotten me a year's supply of scent-blocking potion, a pitiful $120 in cash, and a bohemian dress that smelled like hemp and patchouli. They'd even given me a woven satchel for the potions. A part of me wondered what exactly they'd do with my blood—but I didn't care. I just wanted to disappear.
I popped the cork and sniffed the liquid. It smelled like bitter leaves and wet earth, but it wasn't worse than anything Cameron had forced me to endure. Tilting my head back, I swallowed it in one gulp.
"It's working," Cortina murmured faintly. Her voice was soft and hollow, still raw from the rejection.
"Good," I whispered. "Now to figure out how to get as far away from this hellhole as possible."
"Oh, Luna."
The witch who'd taken my blood suddenly appeared from the back door, leaning against the iron railing. I froze like I'd been caught stealing.
She looked like something out of a nightmare and a fairy tale combined—long white curls tumbling to her waist, gray eyes glowing with mischief, and a thin cigar clutched between her fingers.
"If you're wondering where to go next," she said, inhaling deeply from her cigar, "might I make a suggestion?"
My eyes narrowed. "A suggestion? You make it sound like you already know my situation."
"Perhaps." Her lips curled into a sly grin.
"Perhaps you are not the only creature who enjoys the thought of humbling the Alpha family of Fire Moon Pack."
My stomach twisted. She knows.
"So you are aware of my circumstances," I said flatly.
"The runaway Luna of the most vile pack on this side of the country," she clicked her tongue, "whispers of your story travel far. The tragic little accident. The heir left mate-less, mourning your absence. If your bond with him had been just a fraction stronger, he might have healed you, woken you sooner—just as his wolf did for yours."
My breath caught. "That's why Cortina woke up first?"
The witch nodded knowingly, her gray eyes glinting.
Cortina whimpered softly in my mind, grieving. Thinking of Rome—of the pain he must have endured while she suffered—made my chest tighten with guilt and sorrow I wasn't prepared for.
"Your wolf has suffered enough," the witch said. "Let me offer you both a way out—an escape to prevent that pain from ever touching her again."
I raised a brow, suspicious. "And how exactly would you do that?"
She smiled like a cat with a secret, puffing on her cigar. The embers glowed bright as she exhaled a thick, glittering smoke that coiled like living tendrils against the wall. The smoke grew, stretching and spinning until it formed a massive ring, glowing brighter and brighter until I had to shield my eyes.
When the light finally dimmed, I lowered my arm—and froze.
The wall wasn't there anymore.
Instead, there was a city street bustling with humans. I could smell the difference—the exhaust from passing cars, the sour tang of garbage, the mix of sweat and cheap perfume, and the sharp scent of brewing coffee.
This wasn't an illusion. This was a doorway.
"There is a hostel called Broom StiX," she said, pronouncing it with a deliberate hiss, "east side of the city. You will find others like you there—runaways from packs and tribes.
Tell them Driana sent you."
She handed me a folded slip of paper.
"Why?" I asked, staring at the address scribbled on it. "Why are you helping me?"
Her grin deepened, the corners of her mouth curling up like an old scar.
"Because," she said, taking one last drag of her cigar, "there are those of us who take joy in seeing the suffering of those who deserve it."
A shiver ran down my spine.
I wanted to ask what the Haine family had done to cross her, but the way she was smiling at me—dark and hungry—told me I wouldn't like the answer.
"Go on now, little wolf. Your new life awaits."
"Thank you," I murmured, my voice tight.
"No, thank you." She exhaled one last cloud of sweet, shimmering smoke. "We've been waiting for this longer than you could ever imagine. Go. And when you take your revenge… make it glorious."
The moment I stepped through the wall, a tingling rush swept over my skin. The air changed—thick, humid, heavy. The soft dirt under my feet was replaced by scorching pavement.
I turned around.
No witches. No smoke. No alley. Just the city.
Pedestrians bustled past, too busy to notice that I'd just appeared out of thin air.
I took a breath. It tasted like smog and freedom.
"We're free," I told Cortina.