“No.” Steel enters her voice, so like her sister’s it makes my chest ache where our bond used to live. “I know the spell to open the Court. The gateway. You need me.”
“It’s too dangerous—”
“I won’t leave her again.” Her chin lifts in defiance, despite the tremor in her hands. “Not this time. I watched them break her once already, making her choose them over…” Her voice cracks like brittle ice. “I won’t fail her again.”
Lawrence appears beside us. More Court witches fall as his people move through the neighborhood with brutal efficiency. These male witches have waited decades for this fight. For vengeance against the women who called them monsters.
“She’s right.” Lawrence’s eyes scan the street as more of our forces converge. Already shifted wolves—the hybrids—move in perfect sync with the witches, covering blind spots, guarding them. “We need that spell.” A vicious smile curves his lips as another Court witch falls. “And we need to move now. Before they have more time to prepare.”
I meet Brianna’s gaze—one eye swollen shut, the other burning with determination and love for her sister. She’s not running, no matter what I say. Just like Bridget wouldn’t run, if our positions were reversed. “Stay close to me.”
She nods once, sharp and certain. The same stubborn tilt to her chin that I’ve seen a dozen times on her sister’s face.
We push through the front door, past the unconscious witch on the lawn. The house’s interior is pristine—polished wood and perfect paint hiding horrors beneath. Two more Court witches lie crumpled on the floor, evidence of Emma and Brianna’s desperate flight. The scent of their terror still hangs in the air, mixed with the metallic tang of spilled blood.
“This way.” Brianna leads us through the house, past formal sitting rooms and spotless kitchens. Everything perfect. Everything controlled. Everything fake.
The back door opens onto a perfect lawn stretching toward a circle of white stones. My wolf rises closer to the surface, ready to fight.
“That’s the gateway,” Brianna whispers. Her hands shake slightly as she steps toward the stones. “But they’ll be waiting on the other side—theMathairs. They don’t…” She swallows hard. “What they’ll do to her…”
“I’ll get her back.” The words come out in a growl. I hear our allies behind us, spreading across the lawn like a war party. Wolves strip down without hesitation, muscle and skin already rippling with the promise of fur and fang. Lawrence’s witches gather into formation, their power building until the air tastes like lightning.
The tether pulses weakly—she’s alive, but in pain. So much pain. My wolf howls inside me, desperate to reach her. To tear apart anyone who dares hurt what’s ours.
Before Brianna can step into the circle, I grab her arm. Push her toward one of Lawrence’s male witches—a massive man with kind eyes and deadly grace. “Take her back to the cars.”
“No!” She fights against his grip like a wild thing, all teeth and righteous fury. So much like her sister. “I told you, you need me—”
“I need to focus.” I catch her face between my hands, make her meet my eyes. Let her see the wolf rising there, gold bleeding into brown. “I can’t save Bridget if I’m worried about keeping you alive too. Please.” My voice cracks on the last word. “Let me bring her back to us both.”
Something in my voice must reach her. The same desperation I hear in hers. She stops struggling, tears spilling down her bruised cheeks. “The words are ‘Dorcha geata oscail’. You have to be touching the stones when you say it.” Her good eye holds mine. “Bring her home.”
I nod, already reaching for the buttons of my shirt. The wolf paces beneath my skin, hungry for the change. For blood. “Get her out of here.”
The male scoops her up despite her following protests, moving swift and silent back through the house. Away from what’s coming. Away from the violence about to explode.
“Ready?” Lawrence’s voice carries across the lawn. Our forces have spread out—a dozen massive wolves with hackles raised, witches with centuries of pain fueling their power. This isn’t just about Bridget anymore. This is about every child they stole, every family they broke, every lie they used to maintain their control.
I strip the last of my clothes, letting the shift ripple through me. Fur replaces skin, claws dig into perfect grass. My wolf welcomes the change, all thought of patience or planning burning away in the face of pure, primal need.
Find mate. Protect mate. Kill enemies.
Rachel steps forward, one hand pressed to the nearest white stone. Power crackles around her fingers as she speaks the words.“Dorcha geata oscail.”
The air shivers and twists like heat waves rising from summer pavement. Reality bends and warps, showing glimpses of another world behind the perfect lies. We leap through the shimmering barrier, leaving Salem’s careful facade behind.
A vast courtyard stretches before us, bordered by towering stone walls that pulse with ancient power. A castle rises in the distance, dark and imposing—nothing like the welcoming warmth of Meredith’s village court back home. This place reeks of control and fear, of power bought with broken spirits and stolen lives.
I touch the wolf charm hanging around my neck—Jackson’s last birthday gift to me. On the nose. That was his style. I’d giveanything to have him at my side right now. He would’ve loved Bridget.
Between us and that castle, a line of witches waits. Some wear fighting leathers, hands already weaving deadly spells. Others stand in flowing robes, faces serene beneath the strange lavender sky. They don’t look worried. Don’t look afraid.
They should be.
I bare my teeth in a snarl that promises death. Let them see what real monsters look like.
Time to tear down their perfect world and get back what ismine.
