Chapter 23 - Keira

I woke the following morning in my bed with a strange, severe surge of pride.

Yes, Keira, yes! I held my own. Despite how badly I wanted him on that rooftop, I held my own and stepped away—I didn’t let him kiss me. It was a superhuman effort, yet I made the right decision.

Olivia will be proud of me, for sure. My head may still be pounding with exhaustion and anxiety, but it’s a new day, and I’m determined to get back on track with my work.

The weeks that follow are a blur.

We slip into a routine. There are missions to be planned and piles of intel to be analyzed, and it’s all hands on deck in the pack center for days on end. No matter when I enter the meeting room—three in the morning or one in the afternoon—at least one other person is at work in there, hunkered down over a laptop or some papers, ID-ing suspects from around the region or scanning CCTV files.

I do my best to sleep as much as I can. My body needs it. Sometimes, I try to figure out what comes next, but those instances are fleeting and sparse. My brain can’t hold all of this and the question of my future at once.

Maybe that’s the point.

Byron and Olivia stopped hovering once I asked them to. Things are still very awkward around the team. Nobody seems to know what to say to me. But Ado is no longer lurking like a stranger in the building like he was when we weren’t speaking.

I force myself not to ignore or avoid Ado. It’s an undeniable truth that I need him, and he needs me. Even if it’s only for the mission.

Of course, it’s not only for the mission. But as far as I’m concerned right now, the mission is all that matters.

We speak solely about our work, and even that is slow and cautious. There are still moments when the sheer enormity of what happened to me (and to us) feels overwhelming. But I’m learning to breathe through it.

I hold tight to the small things, despite myself. When we pass each other in the hallway, and I catch his eye, it’s like conducting electricity—it shoots through me right into the ground. How can one man’s eyes hold care like that, concern, tenderness? He’s giving me space, even though I know it’s killing him not to close the distance. I see it in everything he does.

Training makes me feel like I’m back in my body again. I spar with Percy in the mornings, when he can get away from the baby for an hour or two. He tells me about fatherhood, and we mostly talk about Veronica, who I think I adore almost as much as he does, the superhero she is.

There are easy days and hard days, of course. I travel with a few team members to set up additional cameras on Attlefolk—zero risk, I am assured, and I know it’s true. We’re out in the swampy woods, crouched low in the brush as we observe the hideout where we know they hunker down for the night when they dock here.

Ado kneels beside me, body angled slightly between mine and the hideout. There’s a space left for the unspeakable between us, but it’s not as impossible as it used to be to hold his space. When I glance at him, I catch him looking at me, a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. I don’t return it, but I don’t turn away either.

In the evenings, I find myself lingering in the common areas more often, sitting with Olivia or chatting with Percy or Bigby or the others, who I like more every day. Ado sometimes joins us, though he keeps his distance, staying on the other side of the room or at the far end of the couch. He doesn’t push, and I appreciate that. But there’s something comforting in knowing he’s there, even if we’re not ready for more.

One night, after a particularly exhausting mission, I find him sitting alone in the training room, lost in thought. I hesitate in the doorway, torn between leaving him to his solitude and stepping into the space with him. Eventually, I make my way over and sit beside him on the bench. We don’t speak; we just sit in silence, our shoulders brushing.

Olivia pulls me aside one afternoon, concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"I’m trying," I say, unsure of what else to offer. We linger in the doorway to the kitchen, half in shadow. I am reminded of the day I met Olivia, how she sat on my windowsill, and, though she didn’t know it, there was a promise in her optimism that I would have a friend here.

She steps closer, her expression soft. "I’d offer to tell him to back off you, but I think you’d have that covered. And I don’t think you want that.”

I shrug. "I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out. We’re figuring it out, I mean. What it all means. How we’re supposed to be now.”

She hugs me tightly. "You don’t have to know everything right now. You’re still you."

I nod against her shoulder, then let go. Her support means the world to me, but I know I need to stand on my own now—and I can tell by the look on her face that she knows it, too. "Thanks, Liv."

"Always," she promises, then walks away.

The physical sensation of the blood bond takes me off guard every time I attempt to reckon with it. It’s as if gravity affects me slightly differently now. Whenever he isn’t near, I’m always off-kilter, as if something new in the atmosphere is dragging me in some other direction.

I still don’t know how to feel. Some days, the thought of it makes me tremble with rage: I was sold, and now, I am owned, and I cannot change it. On other days, the days when we are kinder to each other, I believe in love. But each and every emotion I have these days is fleeting. Nothing in my life feels stable anymore.

I can’t tell yet whether it’s the worst or best thing to happen to me in years, this instability.

One evening, after a long day of digging and debriefing, Ado catches me alone in the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything; he just hands me a cup of my favorite tea, his gaze searching mine.

I take it, nodding my thanks. He lingers as if he wants to say more but then retreats, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I find myself replaying that later, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The new gravity of our bond pulls on me insistently, like a child begging for attention. In the quiet times, it’s all I can feel. It’s all I can think about.

I shove my face into the pillow, groaning.

Even my room smells like him somehow.

***

Aris gathers us in the meeting room on the hottest day of the year yet. The windows have been flung open, and a gentle breeze pushes around the room.

Around the table, the loaded-spring tension is palpable. My heart is beating somewhere up around my larynx. The brilliant sunlight slanting down through the window out of the midday sky casts long, stark shadows across the room.

When everyone has settled, their chatter dying down, I stand, one hand braced on the table below me, and scan their faces. I have never been a leader. I, like Ado, work far better from the shadows, where I can consider and observe.

But today, I have to lead. Aris nods to me, and I can tell he believes in me.

“It’ll be a two-pronged operation,” I say. “It’s happening two weeks from now, on Sunday the fifteenth. Around eleven in the evening, two or three operatives will ambush the team of Attlefolkers docking across the lake. We have their identities—none of them should pose a threat. Especially since we took out a good few of them on the drop upriver.”

Everyone nods.

“This allows for a window,” I continue, voice clear and confident, “Around three in the morning, the collectors at Border Ridge will still be waiting for the Attlefolkers and their cargo at the drop-point we located northwest up the river. From the footage we attained, we can tell there’ll be two or three men stationed at the site, half a mile from the mansion. We take them out, and it’s a clear shot to the mansion. We infiltrate, get as many girls out as we can—we know at least ten are being kept in captivity there—and lay charges. Then… we hope whoever’s staying on-site comes quietly.”

Aris clears his throat, commanding attention. “We’ve gathered intel. We’ve strategized. We’ve laid the groundwork for this. This is our final push. We hit them hard, and we make sure they don’t rebuild. And we get those women out.”

Byron pulls up a map on the screen behind him, highlighting several locations. “After that, in the following days, we’ll follow up with coordinated strikes on the properties of prominent buyers—the so-called ‘verified buyers.’ We’ll have to move quickly so they don’t have a chance to regroup. They’ve taken shifter brides, but we’re getting them back.”

A surge of determination runs through me as Aris outlines the plan. The images of the compound and homes of buyers flash on the screen—locations where innocent lives are being held captive, treated like property.

The memories of the auction flood back. I feel my fists clench under the table.

“We’ll need full coordination, all hands-on deck,” Aris says, his eyes scanning the room. “Byron, Olivia, you’re on surveillance and tech. Rafael and Percy, we’ll need you stationed at the drop-point early in case anything changes. Bigby and I will lay low on Attlefolk to wait for our guests out across the lake. Maisie, Veronica, we need medical support on standby. Ado, you’re front-lining between both sites. You’re the best of all of us when it comes to combat, and I trust you to handle it when things don’t go to plan, which they almost certainly won’t. Keira, your knowledge of the layout of the sites will be crucial. I need you running point from here.”

I nod, though something inside me stirs. I don’t want to stay behind, not this time. Not after what happened. I want to be out there, ensuring every last trace of this operation is erased.

But I know my role is vital, and I refuse to let anyone else fall into the hands of these monsters. And who knows. Maybe we’ll face yet another unprecedented disaster.

“Any questions?” Aris asks.

Everyone is silent. Then Percy speaks up. “Permission to use lethal force?”

“We go in to rescue, that’s our top priority,” Aris says firmly. “But if they fight back, we take them down. This ends here.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the room. We’re going to put an end to this.

As the meeting wraps up, Aris catches my eye.

“Keira,” he says, “Stay focused. We need you clear-headed.”

I nod. “We’re ending the sale of shifter brides in Minnesota for good,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.

I’m doing it for those girls, and I’m doing it for me.