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Adam
“Where the hell have you been?”
Killian’s voice cuts through the morning air the second I park my car. He’s leaning against the hood of his Jeep like he owns the place.
“F* off.”**
I brush past him and head straight for the house. I’m in no mood for his games—not after last night.
“Whoa, chill, cousin. I can tell you haven’t slept.”
He says it like he gives a damn where i slept or didn't sleep. But in truth, he is my cousin and I am sure as hell that he doesn’t.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and down half of it. My throat’s dry, and my head’s pounding. Everything else? Noise.
“What do you want here this early?”
“The Council sent me.”
I raise an eyebrow, already irritated.
“To what? Babysit me?” I scoff.
“Nope,” he grins. “Though I would kill to babysit you, baby Adam. But no, they sent me because you’ve made it a habit to ignore their calls. Congratulations—now I’m your messenger.”
I let out a sharp breath. “I’ll talk to them later. I’ve got something more pressing to handle.”
Something—or someone—with a name that starts with W. A wolfless woman who’s now carved into my memory like a scar.
“Oh?” Killian’s eyes light up like he’s found his new favorite chew toy. “And what would that be?”
“None of your bu—” I stop mid-sentence.
Actually...
“There’s something I need you to do.”
His expression shifts instantly. “Which is?”
“Did you clean up the body?”
Killian grins like a cat with blood still on its whiskers. “Of course. I’m the master. I’m good at what I do. Even returned the pup you mentioned to his family. They were grateful. I told them you'd visit soon to offer comfort.”
My grip tightens on the bottle. “You did what?” I growl.
He backs up a little, raising both hands. “Relax. Just being thoughtful.”
I sigh, pressing a hand to my temple. “Forget it. I need something else from you now.”
“Which is...?”
“Find me everything you can about the woman from the alley.”
He blinks. “Huh?”
“You heard me. From the day she was born to now—I want it all.”
Killian stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Wait—what? I thought we were leaving her for dead in the alley.”
“Were. Past tense.” I say flatly, finishing the last of my water.
“Alpha…” he says, cautiously.
I ignore him.
“Adam, come on—”
Ignored again. That’s two.
He sighs, exasperated. “And how the hell am I supposed to find out anything about her when I don’t even know her name? Or what she looks like? It was dark, remember?”
Fine.
“She lives at 12 Wendy Avenue. Near Newark Hospital. Start there.” I say, deadpan.
His jaw practically hits the floor. “How do you know where she lives?”
Because she’s my mate.
Unfortunately.
“Not answering that. Now tell me—what does the Council want?”
He squints at me like he’s trying to read between the lines.
“Urgent matters, apparently. No details. Just that you need to show up.” His tone’s clipped. He’s sulking.
He’s mad I’m keeping secrets. About her.
Too bad.
I check the time on my phone. “Fine. I’ll see them at half-past two. I need sleep first.”
“Whatever. Just—keep your damn phone on and actually answer when they call, okay?”
I don’t respond. My eyes are already on the couch. That thing is calling my name like a siren song.
I collapse onto it, head sinking into the cushions.
Just as I’m about to drift off—
You left her.
Malcolm. My wolf. Ever the sentimental fool.
Shut up, Malcolm.
I sever the mind-link. I don’t need this. Not now. Not her again.
I don’t know how long I sleep. But it's not long enough because I'm still cranky. Anyway the next time I stir, it’s because something buzzes under my cheek.
My phone.
I blink. Groan. And grab it.
1 New Message.
From: Council Member 1
"Your Majesty,
In light of your continued single status, the Council has taken the initiative to assist you in securing a suitable chosen mate to ensure the stability of your reign. Arrangements are already underway. We trust you will understand the urgency of this matter and honor our decision accordingly
Your Loyal Council."
I stare.
The world tips sideways.
Are they serious?
No.
They’re absolutely serious.
And just like that, the moon goddess decides to f*** with me—twice in a row.
- Writer
