Chapter 1

Chapter

One

Callista

I stared at the lines of code, my eyes darting back and forth as my fingers flew across the keyboard. My home office was a mess, with empty coffee mugs littering the desk and sticky notes plastered haphazardly on the walls. I leaned back, stretching my arms above my head, and glanced at the time.

It was past noon, and I hadn't even bothered to shower. Not that it mattered. I rarely left the house these days. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, and I forced myself to focus. The API integration was almost done, but I still had to optimize the data handling for the client side. Every time I tried to focus, my mind wandered to anything but the task at hand. The JSON responses weren't parsing correctly, and I knew it was just a matter of tweaking the error handling, but the thought of digging through the documentation one more time made my head ache.

I flipped screens to send a quick message to my brother Blake. Evelyn had given me the simplest task known to women—posting about the upcoming bonfire on the pack Discord channel —and I still hadn't done it. They'd been working tirelessly to integrate Kitimat with Black Lake Pack, and I wished I could do more to help. But every time I pushed myself, I ended up collapsing in a heap, unable to function for days.

I pulled up my sleeve and glared down at the bandage covering up the still oozing wound on my arm. As if I suddenly had the ability to will my body to heal.

I hated feeling weak. I hated that Evelyn had gone through so much to protect me, and then here I was giving nothing in return. My wolf whined, dropping her head onto her paws.

You could tell her.

The thought came more frequently these days, but I always shoved it away. It lived with my wolf's desire to stretch her legs and run.

I couldn't let her do it. I didn't know how this wound and the dark magic that caused it would affect her. I was willing to deal with the pain, but I wouldn't risk harming her.

She didn't understand. Or maybe she knew better than I did.

Either way, I fought every day to keep my impulses under control. Ever since that first night when I found myself driving out into the boonies, I had a system. It was called: remain a hermit. So far, ultra successful and also mildly depressing.

I shivered, imagining myself back on that leather couch, looking at Nathan while he explained what he needed from me. At first, I thought he was truly interested in improving himself. In building Kitimat Pack and letting go of his hatred for Rowan and Black Lake. But once I'd overheard his conversation with whoever the hell alpha up north?

It all became clear. He wasn't looking to help Kitimat. He was taking orders from someone who wanted to control us.

That's when I took the dagger. I thought I'd been so smart, taking it home and hiding it in the closet. But now it all made sense. Nathan had been after one more person I loved. He'd lured Evelyn in by leaving the dagger alone, but he hadn't expected Rowan to come with her.

I closed my laptop, and my wound throbbed. I avoided looking at myself as I stood and passed the mirror in the hall. I knew what I looked like. Dark circles ringed my eyes, and my normally wavy hair hung limp around my face. I rubbed my temple, trying to ease the tension that had settled there.

Celeste and Blake were both at work, so I walked into the kitchen and paused at the back glass sliding doors. Outside, the sun shone down on the lush forest, the trees swaying in the breeze. It was beautiful, but it felt like a taunt. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the cool glass, my breath fogging the surface.

I needed to find a way to break free of this curse. I couldn't keep living this way. I knew that, but I needed to figure out where to start.

I pushed back and trudged to the fridge. Inside were two containers of leftover chili, a liter of milk, and a tired head of lettuce. Fantastic. Beans made me gassy, and while I loved the idea of lettuce milk, I wanted something a bit more substantial.

I hesitated, doing mental gymnastics to avoid doing what I knew I had to. Blake was working late tonight, and Celeste had been burning the candle on both ends for the past week. I'd found her passed out on the couch more than once, which wasn't like her.

I could do this for them. I could go to the grocery store and get something for dinner, maybe even for the rest of the weekend. I used to love cooking. The thought was almost laughable, considering I'd been living on cheese and crackers or Nutella peanut butter sandwiches for three weeks. And oranges. C'mon, I wasn't a complete heathen.

I slipped on my Vans and walked out the back door, immediately wincing at the brightness of the sun. After holing up for the past few weeks, I half expected my skin to turn to ash.

I walked two blocks, then pushed open the door to our small but mighty Kitimat grocery store, the bell above it chiming to announce my arrival. The faint scent of fresh bread and coffee wafted through the air, and it was almost enough to make me walk to the back corner where I knew I'd find a handful of Elders.

My movements were sluggish, my limbs heavy as I trudged down the narrow aisles. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact with the few other customers milling about. I passed the shelves lined with canned goods, boxes of cereal, and bags of chips, then turned down the row with the pasta. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, frowning.

Missed texts and calls. Evelyn's name was at the top, followed by my brother Blake. I swiped them away, my chest tightening. They both worried about me, but what could I say? I was barely holding it together. I shoved the phone back into my pocket, grabbed two boxes of spiral noodles, and tossed them into my basket.

"Callista?"

I turned, my heart skipping a beat. Mrs. Severson, the elderly woman who lived a few houses down from me. Her eyes were kind, but there was a flicker of concern in them that made my stomach churn.

"Afternoon." I forced a tight-lipped smile.

"Callista, dear. You look exhausted." Mrs. Severson's voice was soft, her eyes filled with concern.

My grip tightened on the handle of my basket. "I'm fine. Just tired."

She reached out, her fingers brushing against my arm. "I know you've been through a lot?—"

I nodded. "I'm fine, Mrs. Severson."

Her brow furrowed, and she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Bob and I are worried about you, Callista. When your brother told us about your accident?—"

"It's just taking some time to get back into the swing of things." I took a step back. My accident. That's what Blake told the mundanes. That I'd gotten in a car accident driving over the pass. It explained why I was gone for a bit and why I looked like absolute shit. I had to give it to him.

Mrs. Severson opened her mouth to say something, but I turned away before she could. I didn't need her pity. I didn't need anyone's pity. I gave a small wave and escaped to the end of the aisle to find tomato sauce.

I couldn't even find solace in these small tasks anymore. Everything felt like a chore, a burden. I longed to be out in the forest, to feel the earth beneath my paws and the wind in my fur. To hunt, to run, to be free. But the idea of shifting made me queasy. This wound wasn't healing for a reason. I'd felt the dark magic in the dagger just by touching the hilt. What if it affected my wolf? What if it got stronger in my shift?

I grabbed zucchini, fresh corn on the cob, and croutons and then headed to the checkout, avoiding the cashier's gaze as I handed over my items.

"I haven't had spaghetti in forever." He scanned the boxes of pasta.

"It's not really..." I trailed off. I didn't have the energy to explain the difference between a ragu and bolognese. I paid for the groceries, grabbed my bag, and pushed open the door, the bell tinkling behind me.

As I stepped onto the sidewalk, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the town, but I couldn't enjoy it. I was too aware of the ache in my arm. Too aware of the pull, even now, when I was supposed to be safe inside the borders of our new hybrid Kootenay Pack.

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself back up the hill, then climbed the steps to the house I'd grown up in. I shoved open the door and tossed my bags onto the kitchen counter. I'd only been gone for half an hour, yet my body was so exhausted it felt like I'd been gone for days.

I slumped into a chair and leaned my head against the cool wood of the table. A deep breath calmed my racing heart. A heart that beat too fast. That was my first clue. The pull had been there in the store but weak, like an echo of an echo. Now it was dragging against me in full force. As if the wound were still fresh. As if the dagger were right next to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the edge of the table, the wood digging into my fingers. I was stronger than this. I'd been fighting for the last three weeks. I would keep fighting. I wouldn't let it win. Another breath, and I forced myself to my feet, shuffling to the counter to put away the groceries. Once everything was stowed away, I pulled out a pound of ground beef from the freezer and set it in the sink to thaw, then made my way to the washroom. I needed to change the bandages.

I closed the door behind me and locked it, then pulled off my shirt and stared at the wound. I peeled off the bandage, wincing as it pulled at my skin. The wound was open and raw, the edges blackened and cracked. I gritted my teeth and cleaned it as best I could, then applied a fresh bandage. I finished and stood, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were hollow, my skin pale. I looked like a ghost. Like a shell of the person I'd once been.

I stalked to my bedroom and pulled on a fresh shirt, then went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, my hands shaking. Cooking. I could do cooking.

I turned on my favorite bluegrass group, Arcadian Wild, and pulled a frying pan from the cupboard. The beef wasn't thawed, so I popped it in the microwave for a few minutes on defrost. When I dropped it in the pan, there was still a solid ice core, but at least it was workable.

Though every step seemed to take twice as long as it was supposed to, and I forgot to boil the water for the pasta while I was cooking down the red wine, I eventually ended up with a gorgeous ragu.

I filled a small bowl for myself and covered the rest for Blake and Celeste when they got back, then escaped to my room. I curled onto my bed, burrowed into the pillows, and took my first bite. It was heaven. The savory herbs and smooth sauce made me want to cry.

I glanced at the bottle of sleep aid on the nightstand next to me. This was what I'd been reduced to. Caffeine to keep me up during the day and a pill to force my head to go quiet. I'd tried everything I could think of. Meditation, herbal remedies, even acupuncture. Nothing worked. The pain was always there, a constant throbbing that never let up. And the dreams. The dreams were the worst.

I finished my food, took a drink from my water bottle, and changed into a tank top and sweats. I swiped a make-up wipe over my face and reached for the bottle. I took a deep breath and swallowed the pill, then climbed into bed, pulling the comforter over my shoulders.

The pain was always worse at night, but after fifteen minutes, when the drug took effect, everything disappeared for eight to ten hours. It was glorious. I'd tried taking the pill earlier to avoid the pain, but then I woke up before the sun rose. Not worth it for my day to be longer.

The ache in my arm started as a dull throb, then grew sharper, more insistent. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out. It was like a knife twisting in my side, tearing through flesh and muscle.

And then there were the images.

A shadow loomed in front of me, its edges blurred and indistinct. My thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, disjointed and fragmented. I clutched my side, my fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt. The wound burned, a searing heat that radiated through my body. I gritted my teeth, a bead of sweat rolling down my temple.

Ten more minutes. I tried to force my eyes open, but they stayed closed, heavy as lead. Panic clawed at my throat. I was trapped, caught between the waking world and the dream, unable to escape.

The shadow grew darker, its edges sharpening until the dagger lay on the grass in front of me. It pulsed with a sinister energy. I tried to pull away, but my hand wouldn't obey. I watched in horror as my fingers closed over the hilt, the blade glowing a sickly green, the runes etched into the metal writhing like snakes.

This wasn't real.

I took a deep breath and tried to push the dagger away, to banish it from my mind. But it was no use. It was like trying to move a mountain with my bare hands. The light grew brighter, and I cried out, my back arching. The pain was unbearable, like molten lava coursing through my veins. I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to scream. I wouldn't give it the satisfaction.

You can't control me. The words echoed in my head, a desperate mantra. I repeated them, trying to drown out the voice that whispered in my ear.

You are mine.

I shook my head, my vision blurring. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real?—

Light suddenly erupted in front of me, and an image of a clearing in the woods appeared. Even in my feverish state, I could smell the sharp tang of pine and hear the whisper of the wind through the branches. It was a place of peace and beauty, a place I knew well. Cotton Creek Campground. I'd recognize that wooden bridge anywhere.

My mind transported me back to my childhood, to the feeling of the sun on my skin and birds chirping in the trees. I could see the giant tree I used to climb, its gnarled branches stretching like arms. Or the brook where I used to catch frogs, its water clear and cool.

But as I focused on the memory, there was a shift. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and the air grew colder. The creek's water turned murky, and the shadows lengthened. The redwoods swayed in the wind, their branches creaking like old bones.

I scanned the clearing, my eyes searching for any sign of movement, but there was nothing. Just the trees and the water and the shadows. I wanted to run, to turn and flee, but my feet were rooted to the ground.

And then the darkness closed in, and I began slipping away. The trees and the creek faded as I sank into the mattress.

Finally. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.