Chapter 3

The next morning, Dane posted a photo. He was sitting beside a hospital bed in Silvercrest, peeling an apple in one long, careful strip. All you could see of the patient was a slim hand resting on the blanket.

Someone has to look after her.

Two winters ago, I slipped on the lab steps and broke my wrist. Even a wolf heals slowly when a bone sets wrong, and for a week I could barely hold a cup. I asked Dane to bring me a glass of water. He didn't look up from his laptop.

"You broke your wrist, not your legs. Get it yourself."

Back then I'd told myself some people just weren't good at taking care of others.

I looked at that apple peel for a long time. He was good at it. He just never wanted to do it for me.

The house sold in four days. I sent half the money to Dane's account, boxed up his things, and shipped them to the Silvercrest address in his email. What was left of mine fit into three suitcases, mostly notebooks. Eight years together, and nothing of his was coming with me.

On Friday evening, I was sitting in a plastic chair at Halford airport when he called.

"Hey. Your flight's tonight, right?"

"Mm-hm."

"Okay, so, change of plans. Silvercrest moved my oath up. It's tonight, under the full moon, so I can't come get you." He sounded tired and a little put out. "Sienna had another rough night too. Honestly, I'm exhausted."

"Okay."

"Oh, and Sienna heard you're some kind of wolfsbane expert. You can take over looking after her when you get here. I'm wiped." He yawned. "Grab a cab to my place when you land. I'll text you the address."

He hadn't asked how I was. He'd already handed me a job.

"Maren? You there?"

"I'm here."

"You're not still upset about the party, are you? I told you, she's like a sister." His voice went soft and coaxing. "Come on. Cut me a little slack, okay? I'm running on no sleep here."

I didn't answer.

"Don't overthink it, Maren. We're mates. Where else are you going to go?"

"Dane, haven't I always been understanding?"

"Sure you have, and right now I just need you to—"

"I've been understanding for eight years, Dane. Isn't that enough?"

The line went quiet. I hung up.

Before I boarded, I texted my dad. Landing tonight. I'm coming home.

He wrote back in under a minute. Three thumbs-up, then: Your mom's already cooking. Don't tell her I told you.

I laughed for the first time in a week and walked to my gate.

The flight was five hours. Somewhere over the mountains, I caught myself touching my mark.

Six years ago, in our tiny Halford apartment, Dane had pressed his teeth to my neck and promised me Cedar Ridge. A house near the river. A porch that faced the ridge. Pups who'd grow up running the same trails we did. He'd said it like a vow, and I'd believed every word.

My phone buzzed as the wheels touched the runway. It was a selfie: Dane under a silver moon, the Silvercrest crest painted on the stone wall behind him, his collar open, his grin wide.

It's done. You've got until the next full moon, Mare. Don't keep me waiting.

The side of my neck went dull, the way a bruise does when you've forgotten it's there. My mark. I pressed my fingers to it, and it barely felt like mine anymore.

I rented a car and drove north.

The moon was high by the time the road narrowed and the pines closed in. Then my headlights caught the old wooden sign. CEDAR RIDGE PACK LANDS.

The mind-link hit me all at once.

Twelve years of silence, and suddenly my head was full of voices. Someone on night patrol complaining about the cold. A pup who should have been asleep hours ago. And over all of it, dozens of voices at once.

Maren's back.

Is that Maren Ashby?

Welcome home.

Then one voice I'd know anywhere, rough and a little shaky.

Maren? Kiddo, is that you?

My dad.

I had to pull over. I sat with both hands on the wheel and cried until my chest hurt.

Headlights swung in behind me. A tall, gray-haired man climbed out of a truck, and I knew him before he reached my window. The Alpha of Cedar Ridge. He'd pinned my graduation sash on me when I was eighteen.

"Your dad said you'd be driving in tonight," he said. "I figured I'd meet you at the line."

I wiped my face with my sleeve. "Alpha. You didn't have to do that."

"I did." His eyes went to the mark on my neck, and his face gentled. "Your mate took Silvercrest's oath an hour ago. I felt our pack link break when he did."

I nodded.

"Pack law is clear, Maren. Mates belong to one pack. When he swore himself to Silvercrest, your bond went on hold. You may follow him before the next full moon, or you may release him here, in front of me." He waited. "Take all the time you need."

I touched my mark one last time. Eight years of waiting up for him, of picking up after him, of pouring my own water.

I didn't need any more time. I looked up at him, and he read it in my face.

"Maren Ashby," he said. "Do you release him?"

"I do."

***

In Silvercrest, Dane was laughing at something Sienna had whispered against his throat when the mark on his neck burned once.

Then it went cold.