The next morning started wrong even before school began.

  I knew it even before I pulled into the school parking lot, as my eyes scanned the familiar perimeter expecting to find the familiar duo waiting, yet finding only Ethan.

  He stood alone near the middle of the lot like a fixed point, hands in his pockets, shoulders too straight.

  Lara was a few paces off, talking to Tess, but her attention kept snapping back to him in tight little glances, like a leash yanking.

  Nell, with her dark ponytail and sharp eyes, was nowhere to be seen.

  A tight knot formed in my throat. For a split second I wanted to turn the wheel and just drive back home, but then decided against it. It wouldn't do any good. God only knew how Ethan would react, and what it would cause.

  So I did what I did best these days, gritted my teeth and pushed through.

  The instant my car turned in, Ethan's head lifted. His pupils jumped, big and dark, then flexed back a fraction as his eyes settled on me.

  I parked, killed the engine, sat for half a second longer than necessary. Because he was here and Nell wasn't and some lunatic part of me was excited to see him, even while the rest of me was drenched in anxiety.

  When I finally stepped out into the cold air and met his gaze, my lips tipped up before I could stop them. His pupils pulsed once, the corner of his mouth twitching so fast I would have missed it if I wasn't so terribly focused.

  "Morning," I said, forcing the treacherous smile down, voice aiming for neutral.

  "Morning," he answered in the exact same tone.

  Lara stepped in on his left, fluid as an eel. "Oh. You're late today. I thought you might not come," she said, all polite brightness with a razor underneath.

  "Why wouldn't I?" I asked.

  "Of course, forgive me," she smiled. "Didn't mean to imply anything. We all know the Blackwells have always been very… reliable." Her gaze switched from me to Ethan.

  The jab struck right between my ribs. Fire burned hot in my veins, spreading through my cheeks. I kept my teeth clenched to keep myself from snapping back.

  Ethan moved faster than my eyes registered, placing himself between me and Lara. He didn't speak, just stood there, his presence rolling like aftershocks following an earthquake.

  I couldn't see her, but I didn't miss the hitch in her breath.

  "Ethan!" she hissed, taking a step back. Her shoe clicked on the asphalt.

  My peripheral vision caught the immediate shift in the lot. Voices paused, attention focused directly on Ethan. I didn't understand all the intricacies of lupine behavior, but I knew this had to be bad.

  "Where's Nell?" I asked, loud enough to cut through the tension.

  It worked. Ethan turned toward me, pupils blown once again. The attention of the courtyard eased into something manageable.

  "She had some errands to do. Downtown. She'll be back tomorrow."

  With him angled out of the way, I could see Lara's narrowed eyes, her gaze weighing on Ethan.

  I swallowed.

  That was when I realized how much of this whole stupid system had been balanced on Nell just standing there and existing.

  Now she was gone, and the gap she left was loud. Without her, the formation defaulted.

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  Ethan moved, shoulders straight, posture impeccable, as if he were reasserting something.

  He took one step forward, then shifted just enough that both Lara and I ended up a half pace back.

  Lara on his left. Me on his right. A triangle.

  It felt wrong, like using a chair with one leg too short, but it also felt inevitable.

  He couldn't be seen walking only with me. He couldn't abandon me in plain view either. This was the compromise, him in the center, both flanks under his watch.

  The ring around us widened.

  Students parted. Some of them were probably too far away to know what they were sensing. They still moved.

  We crossed the lot in that weird three-point shape, Lara sharp and contained, Ethan controlled in a way that looked like it physically hurt him, me trying to take up as little space as possible.

  Matt turned his head as we passed his group.

  His nose twitched, pupils blowing wide. For half a second they locked on me, then flicked to Ethan, quick and assessing. There it was again, that recurring evaluation that looked like something straight out of Nat Geo Wild.

  Ethan's head turned just a fraction, eyes narrowing. Matt blinked, ducked his eyes, fingers clenching on his backpack strap. It was becoming a ritual now, and not a comforting one.

  We went on.

  "So," Lara murmured as we passed a trophy case, voice sugar-soft, "you said Nell went on some errands?"

  The way she said errands made it sound like a shooting target.

  "Downtown," Ethan answered. "Yes."

  "I see," Lara repeated. "Of course."

  She didn't press. She didn't have to. Her eyes said enough.

  ***

  On the opposite side of town, in a red brick building with peeling white trim and a pair of stone wolves flanking the front steps, Nell Greystone walked into the public library and pretended to be exactly what everyone there expected her to be.

  A Greystone's daughter on official business. Nothing more, nothing less.

  The night before, she and Ethan had sat on his bedroom floor with the door shut, his hair damp from the shower. He had told her about the boar. About the way the killing high hadn't stopped when it should have. About the snarl that had snapped out of him when Lara pulled him off, more reflex than intention. About the way the wind kept turning his body toward Blackwell land like a magnet he could not shut off. About the thought of needing Kelsey there, and the terror of what he might've unintentionally done to her if she was.

  They had both known it already, but saying it out loud nailed it to the wall.

  An inversion so powerful it could only be a form of a nascent bond wasn't fading. It was growing worse.

  Their current plan, the careful dance of proximity and distance, was not a full solution. It was, just like Kelsey had said, a band-aid.

  So Nell had decided, quietly and absolutely, that if the adults were too wary of the word bloodkin to give them full answers, she was going to steal some from the past.

  Now she crossed the library foyer with that decision sitting cold and resolute in her chest.

  The librarian at the front desk looked up as she approached.

  "Nell," he said, his face creasing into something between a smile and a wince, like he was not sure whether to be grandfatherly or deferential. "Out of school early today, are we?"

  "Study block," she lied smoothly. "Father wants me to get a head start on some… pack governance things."

  The mention of Jason Greystone did what it always did. It made everyone's backs straighten a fraction. It meant everything was as it should be.

  "Ah," the old lupine said. "Of course. How can we help today?"

  "I need access to the town archives," she said. "Old records on alliances, mating contracts, that sort of thing."

  The librarian's eyebrows went up. "Of course," he murmured, already reaching for the set of keys hanging from his belt. "You know where it is?"

  "I do," she said.

  The door at the rear of the library creaked when Nell opened it. It always had.

  Inside, the temperature dropped a notch. The air carried the scents of old paper and ink and dust and leather.

  Shelves lined the walls, sturdy wood sagging gently under the weight of books and thick files.

  She took a slow breath.

  The keeper of the archive, Ms. Harper, looked up from a desk in the corner.

  "Nell," she said, green eyes widening a bit. "To what do we owe the honor?"

  "I need access to the archives," Nell replied smoothly. "For a comparative essay cross-referencing historical arrangements and current practice."

  It was precisely the kind of sentence Jason Greystone would have put in her mouth himself. Harper immediately nodded, then gestured toward the shelf.

  "There's everything you might need, I believe. Wait a moment," Harper said as she reached for the books, then handed them to Nell. "Be careful with these. They're old, the paper more fragile than you're used to."

  Nell nodded and carried the books to a table near the back.

  It was perfect. No one was watching. No one knew why she was really here.

  At least, that was what she thought, until she caught a familiar scent.

  Irene.

  Very carefully, she turned and saw the redhead sitting two rows back with an open notebook and her phone half-hidden under the table.

  Irene's gaze flicked up just long enough to meet her gaze, then fell down to her notebook. Nell said nothing. She simply turned, feeling Irene's gaze at the back of her head as she passed the main shelves, the local history section, the door marked Staff Only.

  She never saw Irene's thumb moving silently as she typed a message.

  She's entered the archives.