Hayes did not wait until “tomorrow” to summon me.
He sent Vera.
I was halfway through bandaging a very indignant cat’s paw when the bell over the clinic door jingled and she stepped in.
Vera had an air about her.
Not like Hayes’s brittle authority or Theo’s quiet gravity.
She carried herself like someone who’d seen three wars, four marriages, and all the stupid decisions of three generations, and had patience left for exactly none of it.
“Doc,” she said, nodding at me. “Fuzzy tyrant.”
The cat hissed at her.
“Don’t take it personally,” I said. “He hisses at God.”
“Wise,” she murmured.
I finished the bandage, gave the cat’s owner instructions, and watched them leave.
Then I flicked the sign to CLOSED, even though it wasn’t technically noon yet.
“You here for a checkup?” I asked. “Oil change? Tarot reading?”
“Hayes sent me,” she said, ignoring the bait. “He wants to talk. Before he loses his nerve.”
“That’s…comforting,” I said. “Give me five minutes to throw some coffee in a travel mug and tell my dog not to eat the couch.”
Rufus thumped his tail in the back office as if on cue.
Vera’s eyes softened when she saw him.
“He’s a good one,” she said. “Sturdy. Loyal. Smarter than some wolves I know.”
I smirked. “I’ll tell Theo you said that.”
“Don’t,” she said. “His head barely fits through doors as it is.”
We walked to the Council house together.
The building stood at the end of Main Street, a little set back from the rest, like the town had grown around it and then deliberately left a respectful gap.
White clapboard. Green shutters. A porch with two rocking chairs that looked decorative rather than functional.
“Feels like a courthouse,” I muttered.
“In some ways, it is,” Vera said. “In others, it’s just old wood and older ghosts. Don’t give it more power than it has.”
Good advice.
Hard to follow.
Inside, the air was cooler.
The long table from the previous meeting was still there. Hayes sat at one end, cane across his knees. Elias lounged halfway down, spinning a pen. Theo stood near the window, arms crossed, gaze on the street.
He turned as we entered.
His shoulders eased a fraction.
“You came,” he said.
“Vera said if I didn’t, she’d drag me, so,” I said. “Here I am.”
Hayes gestured to a chair.
“Sit,” he said. “I won’t bite.”
“Can’t speak for the others, though?” I asked.
Elias coughed to cover a laugh.
Theo’s mouth twitched.
Hayes scowled.
“You talk like Margaret,” he muttered.
“Everyone keeps saying that,” I said. “I’m going to need therapy.”
“Working on it,” Elias said under his breath.
Hayes fixed me with that sharp gaze.
“We have…things to discuss,” he said. “Before rogues turn our attention elsewhere. And before my patience with your…flippancy runs out.”
“I can be serious,” I said. “When people are bleeding. Or paying me.”
“Consider this both,” he said. “You asked yesterday why Malachi came to your cabin. Why he knew Margaret. Why he smelled like danger and family. Time you had answers.”
I folded my hands in my lap so they wouldn’t fidget.
“Okay,” I said. “Story time.”
Hayes’s jaw tightened at the phrase.
“Don’t trivialize this,” he snapped.
“Maybe don’t treat me like a child,” I shot back. “I watched him die. I stitched him back together on my lawn. I’ve earned at least enough respect not to be patted on the head and told to run along while the grown-ups talk.”
Silence fell.
Theo’s eyes warmed.
Vera’s mouth curved approvingly.
Hayes stared at me, assessing.
“Yes,” he said at last. “Margaret’s, indeed.”
He leaned back in his chair, cane tapping once on the floor.
“Malachi was Pack,” he said. “Once. Before your parents were born. Before you. Before Theo, even.”
Theo’s eyebrows rose at that.
“I was alive,” he said. “Not old enough to shift. I remember him. Vaguely.”
“As you should,” Hayes said. “He was…loud.”
“Shock,” Elias murmured.
Hayes shot him a look.
“Malachi came to us from the south,” Hayes continued. “Packless. Half-feral. His Pack had been wiped out by hunters. He’d seen…things. Lost his mate. His pups. He was…angry. Wild. But he had…information. About the hunters. About rogue wolves sniffing around our borders even then. So we took him in. On probation.”
“And then?” I asked.
“He stole from us,” Hayes said. “Food. Weapons. More importantly—information. Scent maps. Patrol routes. Names of humans who knew too much. He sold them down the mountain. To whoever had coin.”
“For food?” I asked. “For…what?”
“For whiskey,” Elias said. “And spite.”
Hayes’s mouth thinned.
“He said we owed him,” he said. “For taking his girl.”
My stomach dropped.
“His…mate,” I said slowly. “Who…was…?”
Hayes looked away.
Vera’s shoulders tensed.
“Margaret’s sister,” Theo said quietly. “Eliza’s younger girl. Rosie.”
My lungs forgot how to work.
“I have a—had a—great-aunt?” I stammered. “Named Rosie? Who was…Malachi’s…?”
“Mate,” Hayes said shortly. “Yes. Your…great-aunt. She died young. In childbirth.” His jaw flexed. “We did not…handle it well.”
“Understatement,” Vera muttered.
“Malachi blamed us,” Hayes said, ignoring her. “Blamed the Ridge. Blamed the bond. He left. Said if he couldn’t save his girl, he’d burn down every promise that killed her.”
My throat burned.
“And he…came back?” I whispered.
“He drifted,” Hayes said. “In and out. Heard things. Brought us scraps of information when it suited him. Enough to keep us from closing our borders to him entirely. Enough to keep him in whiskey. Never enough to…trust.
“Margaret hated him,” Vera added. “But she felt…guilty. Her sister. Her blood. She couldn’t quite cut him off, even when she should have.”
“So he knew her,” I said. “Knew…my family. Before any of this.”
“Yes,” Hayes said. “Which is why, when he smelled you on the Ridge, he…recognized the blood. And why, when he realized rogues were talking about our old deals, he…dragged his sorry ass up here to warn us. In his own, belligerent way.”
“Because of me,” I said softly.
“Because of the Ridge,” Hayes corrected. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re…important. But you’re not the axis all this turns on. You’re a spoke.”
That…weirdly helped.
“I thought you said I was a favorite,” I muttered. “Now I’m a spoke?”
“Don’t mix metaphors,” Elias said. “The Ridge gets confused.”
I huffed.
“Okay,” I said, focusing. “So Malachi died to tell us rogues are sniffing around your old deals. My…deal. They think Theo’s ‘soft.’ You. Think. I’m…what? Leverage? Weak point? Shortcut to your magic?”
Hayes’s mouth twisted. “All of the above.”
“Comforting,” I said.
“We need to decide,” Hayes said, “how to handle that. Before they decide for us.”
“Handle…me,” I translated. “You mean.”
He met my gaze.
“Yes,” he said simply. “You.”
Theo’s hand slammed flat on the table.
“No,” he said. “We are not talking about her like she’s a piece of cargo we need to…hide or move or lock up.”
“Then what do you suggest, Alpha?” Hayes snapped. “We paint a target on her back and hang her from the old stone like a flag?”
“Rogues think we’re weak,” Theo said. “So we show them we’re not. We don’t hide her. We don’t…showcase her, either. We…fortify. Patrols. Wards. We make it clear this Ridge is not easy prey.”
“And when they realize the source of our strength these last decades has been a bloodline girl on a hill?” Hayes demanded. “When they come not just for our hunting grounds, but for *her?*”
Silence.
I sat very still.
Bloodline girl.
It was one thing to discuss my hypothetical symbolic value.
Another to talk about people *coming for me.*
Theo’s gaze flicked to me.
He saw the fear.
His jaw tightened.
“They come,” he said, voice like frost, “they die.”
“So macho,” Elias muttered.
“Not a strategy,” Hayes said. “A reaction.”
“You’re the one who signed the damned deal,” Theo snapped. “You invited this attention decades ago. Don’t put it on her now because the bill’s coming due.”
“I am not—” Hayes began hotly.
Vera raised a hand.
“Enough,” she said. “You two can measure dicks later. Right now, we need a *plan.*”
My face flamed.
Theo coughed.
“Sorry,” Vera said, not sounding sorry at all. “Delicate ears and all.”
“My ears are fine,” I said. “My…brain is melting.”
“Good,” she said. “You’ll remember this.”
She turned her gaze on me.
“You have three options by my count,” she said. “One: Run. Take your dog, your degrees, and your big-city sensibilities and go back down the mountain. Sell the cabin. Donate the money. Let the Ridge work out its own balance without you. You will not be…punished…for that choice. Not by us.”
Hayes made a noise.
Vera shot him a look.
“Two,” she continued, “you stay on your hill. Keep your clinic. Keep your distance. Be…Pack-adjacent. You help when you want to. You slam the door when you don’t. You let Theo and the rest of us stand between you and whatever wants your blood. Rogues. Old magic. Gossip.”
My chest tightened.
“And three?” I asked.
“Three,” she said, “you step fully into this. You bind yourself. To Theo. To us. To the Ridge. On terms we all agree to. You let the bond flow. You use it. We use it. We…rebuild the deal in a shape that doesn’t break you.”
The words hung there.
Heavy.
Potent.
Terrifying.
“Those…aren’t equal options,” I managed.
“No,” Vera said bluntly. “They’re not. Running is clean. Safe. For you. Harder for us. Staying half-in, half-out is…messy. Painful. For everyone. Binding is…powerful. And dangerous. And could fix more than it breaks. Or break more than it fixes.”
“Cool,” I said weakly. “Love that for me.”
“You wanted truth,” Hayes said. “This is it.”
“What do *you* want?” I asked him.
He blinked.
“What?”
“You,” I said. “Personally. Not as…Council. Not as…walking embodiment of tradition. What do you want? Me to stay? To go? To bind? To burn the stone? What?”
He looked thrown for a second.
Good.
Then he scowled.
“I want my Pack alive,” he said. “I want this Ridge not to crack. I want my grandpups not to grow up hungry. I want my own bones to go into this mountain knowing I left it…better. What part you play in that…depends on you.”
“That’s not an answer,” I said.
“It’s the only honest one I have,” he said.
Theo’s gaze burned into the side of my face.
I could feel *his* answer like heat.
He wanted me.
Here.
With him.
In this mess.
My mother’s voice echoed in my head: *Don’t disappear inside her story.*
Margaret’s journal inked its way up my spine: *You are stronger than you know.*
Malachi’s last words fluttered through my chest: *Don’t let them chain you.*
“Rory,” Theo said quietly. “You don’t have to decide now. Not today. Not before we’ve even seen these rogues. We can move you down to Patty’s for a few weeks. Or into my—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘into my cabin,’” I cut in. “I am not going to be your damsel on the couch while you fight off marauding werewolves.”
His mouth twitched. “You’d stab them with a kitchen knife if I let you.”
“Exactly,” I said. “So don’t…suggest moving me like I’m luggage.”
He held up his hands. “Noted.”
Elias cleared his throat.
“If I may,” he said, “I’d like to suggest a fourth option.”
Four sets of eyes swung his way.
“Of course you would,” Hayes muttered.
Elias grinned.
“Option four,” he said. “We bait the trap.”
My skin prickled.
“How,” I asked slowly.
“Rogues want the Ridge’s bloodline girl,” he said. “We…let them think they can get to her. On our terms. In a place of our choosing. With the Pack ready. We draw them in. We end them. We send a message.”
My stomach flipped.
“You’re suggesting using me as…bait,” I said flatly.
“Yes,” he said. “But, like…consensual bait. With armor. And backup. And a big fucking contingency plan.”
“Language,” Vera murmured.
“Please,” I said faintly. “Like that’s the first time someone’s said ‘fucking’ in this room.”
Vera inclined her head. “Point.”
“No,” Theo said.
The word dropped like a stone.
“No,” Elias echoed in falsetto. “Big Alpha says no. Everyone go home.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Theo snapped.
“I know,” Elias said. “That’s why I’m thinking strategically instead of emotionally.”
“You’re talking about dangling her in front of people who shoot silver,” Theo said, voice rising. “Hunters. Rogues. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“Exactly,” Elias said. “And they don’t know what they’re dealing with. Us. Prepared. On our land. With our magic. And with our…axis”—he nodded at me—“present. That changes things. It always has.”
“Stop calling me an axis,” I muttered. “It makes me feel like a math problem.”
“You kind of are,” he said. “Sorry.”
Hayes tapped his cane.
“As much as I hate to encourage Elias’s…theatricality,” he said, “he has a point. We can’t stay purely on the defensive. That never ends well. The Ridge doesn’t like…cowering.”
“Neither do I,” I said quietly.
Theo’s head snapped toward me.
“Rory—”
“No,” I said. “Listen. He’s not wrong. If we run, they’ll follow. If we hide, they’ll poke. If we ignore them, they’ll…build. Sometimes you don’t wait for the infection to spread. You cut it out.”
His jaw clenched.
“You’re not a surgeon,” he said. “You’re the patient.”
“I’m both,” I said. “Apparently. Welcome to my fucked-up metaphor.”
Vera’s eyes glittered.
“You’d do it,” she said. “Be bait.”
It wasn’t really a question.
“Yes,” I said. “If—and this is a big if—we do it *my* way. On a timeline I’m comfortable with. With contingencies I approve. And with the understanding that if at any point I say ‘pull the plug,’ we pull the plug. Literally, if need be. Electrocute them. I don’t care. You said I get a say. This is me…saying.”
Theo looked like he wanted to throw something.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “This is not…a movie. You don’t just volunteer as tribute and walk into a nest of rogues with a tracking device and a brave speech.”
“I wasn’t planning a speech,” I said. “Just…a very firm ‘fuck you’ when they try to touch me.”
“Language,” Hayes muttered.
“Not helping,” I said.
Elias rubbed his hands together. “I like her.”
“We know,” Vera said. “Everyone knows.”
Theo dragged a hand over his face.
“Rory,” he said. “I need you to understand something. The bond doesn’t just…pull you toward me. It pulls *me* toward you. The thought of you anywhere near someone who wants to hurt you makes my wolf—” He broke off, jaw flexing. “It’s not…pretty.”
“Good,” I said.
He blinked.
“Good?” he repeated.
“Yes,” I said. “I *want* your wolf pissed off. I want it snarling. I want it between me and them. Because I don’t plan on walking into anything alone. I’m not…stupid. But I also…can’t…sit on my porch and pretend this isn’t about me.” I swallowed. “If my blood is a problem, then I get to decide how we…use it.”
Silence.
The Ridge hummed.
Vera smiled, slow and fierce.
“There she is,” she murmured. “Margaret would be…irritated. And proud.”
“Stop invoking her,” I said. “She already visits my dreams.”
Hayes’s head snapped up. “She…what?”
“Long story,” I said quickly. “Involves honey and bad advice.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“This is giving me a headache,” he muttered. “Fine. Bait. But not now. Not yet. We don’t know enough. We don’t know who we’re inviting to dinner. We don’t know how they think. Where they sleep. What they want beyond vague ‘power.’ We scout first. We gather intelligence. Then, *maybe,* if we can keep Theo from having a coronary, we…use you.”
I exhaled.
“That’s…all I’m asking,” I said. “A…plan. Not a panic.”
Theo looked like he wanted to protest again.
Instead, he sagged a little.
“I hate this,” he said.
“I know,” I said softly. “Me too.”
“But you’re still doing it,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “I am.”
He studied my face.
Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.
“Then I’ll make sure,” he said, “that when we do it, we do it in a way that gives them the least possible chance of laying a hand on you.”
“You’re very fond of this ‘no touching Aurora’ rule,” I said, forcing a smile.
“It’s my favorite rule,” he said.
Heat fluttered low in my belly.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have kissed me,” I muttered.
Vera choked.
Hayes groaned.
Elias crowed, “Called it!”
Theo’s ears went pink.
“We’re done here,” he said abruptly, pushing away from the table. “Meeting adjourned.”
Hayes sighed. “Children.”
Vera’s eyes danced.
As we filed out, she fell into step beside me.
“You’re doing a foolish thing,” she said conversationally.
“Thanks,” I said. “That helps.”
She smiled.
“It does,” she said. “Because foolish things move the world more than careful ones.”
“That’s…reassuring,” I said dryly.
“Just remember,” she added, her voice dropping, “foolish does not mean…alone. You pull on that bond. You pull on us. If you walk into the dark, you don’t do it without a string tied around your waist.”
“String,” I repeated. “Bond. Leash. Chain. Axis. You people really need to pick one metaphor and commit.”
She laughed softly.
“Consider it…our way of keeping you on your toes,” she said.
I was already on my toes.
Teetering on the edge of something big.
The Ridge loomed outside, indifferent and watchful.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Mom: How’s the cult?
I stared at the screen.
Then, absurdly, I smiled.
Me: Complicated. We need to talk. Soon.
Three dots.
Mom: I’m listening.
I glanced at Theo, who was standing on the porch steps, face tilted to the wind like he could smell storm or rogue or my fear from there.
“I’m going to need you,” I whispered, to him, to my mother, to the Ridge, to myself.
The mountain didn’t answer.
But the hum under my feet shifted.
Listening.
Waiting.
Ready to see what foolish thing I’d do next.
***