That afternoon, Jack and Elise left again.

  They didn't announce it, they just moved quietly with purpose. Elise collected something from the laundry room, Jack grabbed his coat, and then they were gone, slipping through the yard toward the treeline with that unnatural, almost soundless efficiency and synchronicity that I now knew went beyond experience and partnership.

  I watched from the kitchen window as they disappeared between the tree trunks.

  Hailey sat on the floor with crayons scattered around her, drawing something that should have been a horse but looked more like a spider.

  "Grandma said we're going to bake brownies later," she chirped.

  "That's great," I said, but my thoughts were distant, floating toward faraway branches.

  ***

  Our grandparents returned as the light began to fade into night.

  They walked inside dragging along the smell of damp earth and pine. Elise's hair had small pieces of dry needles caught in it. Jack's boots left dark prints on the floorboards.

  "Did you find him?" I asked before the door fully closed.

  Jack's jaw clenched.

  "No," he said.

  I looked at the bundle in Elise's arms.

  It was Hailey's purple vest. One of my T-shirts. A small pair of socks with cartoon ducks.

  My stomach turned. Nausea crept up my throat. My brain had trouble processing what my eyes were undoubtedly seeing.

  "What are you doing with our clothes?"

  Elise set the bundle down carefully on the counter, as if it were something fragile and sacred.

  "Your scent is strongest on what you wear," she said, almost apologetically. "If he smells it, he might think you girls are in the forest in danger. If anything can pull him back, it's the instinct to protect you."

  I stared at her, appalled. Horrified.

  "Let me get this straight. You're using Hailey's and my clothes as bait," I asked, my throat suddenly dry, eyes wide in apprehension. "To lure our dad out of the woods."

  I thought I'd passed the threshold of being shocked. Now I knew I had no idea how far that boundary went.

  Elise's lips pressed together.

  "I wouldn't use the word 'bait'," she said. "More like a lighthouse." She corrected herself. "A beacon."

  I hated that the metaphor worked. Somehow it dulled the weirdness. It didn't obliterate it, though.

  Her gaze softened by a degree. "We won't stop searching," she added. "Not until we bring him back home."

  I wanted to scream that they should have done all of this ages ago, that they should have stayed in his life, our lives. That they should have found a way.

  Instead, I just nodded and wrapped my arms around myself so I wouldn't fall apart on the kitchen tiles.

  "I want to go with you next time," I said.

  Both their heads snapped up.

  "No," they said in unison.

  "I'm not a baby," I snapped back.

  "We've already explained why it's dangerous for you to go in there."

  "Well, wouldn't you keep me safe? Or was everything you said just bull—?"

  "Careful," Jack said, his tone low and sharp. "There's a difference between protecting our own and deliberately provoking a fight and jeopardizing your life. Both are non-negotiable."

  I pressed my lips together so tightly they hurt.

  ***

  All of a sudden, Jack went very still. The air itself seemed to coil around him.

  His head lifted, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowing toward the window.

  Elise froze a second later. She inhaled once, sharply, like someone catching the scent of smoke.

  "What are you—" I began, but the words came out too loud in the suddenly loaded quiet.

  They ignored me.

  Jack's voice was low when he spoke.

  "Why," he said, more to himself than anyone else, "is Greystone's boy sniffing around my house?"

  Ice slid down my spine.

  "Who?" I asked, even though I knew.

  Jack's gaze flicked to me, then to the window again.

  "Jason's son," he said. "The brother of your little school shadow."

  Ethan.

  My heart stuttered so violently I had to grab the table edge.

  Elise moved to the window and peered through the curtains, careful not to let the fabric shift too much.

  From where I stood, I could see only a sliver of the yard, the driveway, the beginning of the trees. Nothing else.

  "What is he doing?" Jack asked.

  "Pacing the boundary," Elise said quietly. "It seems."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  My gaze fell to my phone lying face down on the table. I swallowed.

  "You told us nothing about this," Jack said, turning back to me, his voice sharpening. "When did it start?"

  "He isn't doing anything," I said quickly. "Maybe he just, I don't know, takes walks."

  Jack's eyes did not blink. "Lupines don't pace other males' borders for fun."

  My cheeks burned.

  "He's probably just worried because I didn't answer Nell's texts," I blurted. "They're supposed to make sure I don't get mauled in a hallway or something, remember? Maybe he's just checking that I'm alive."

  "You didn't answer her?" Elise repeated slowly.

  "No," I snapped. "Excuse me if I didn't feel like texting my supernatural school handler after watching my dad glitch reality in the woods."

  They both ignored the jab.

  Jack pushed off the counter.

  "I will handle this," he said.

  "Wait," I said, standing so fast the chair protested. "He hasn't done anything wrong. He's just walking."

  For a split second, something flickered in Jack's eyes that might have been amusement. Or pity. Or both.

  "Walking," he said. "Pacing. Circling. You really don't see the difference yet."

  He headed for the door. Elise caught my arm as I moved to follow.

  "Stay inside," she murmured.

  "No way," I said, twisting out of her grip. "If you think I am staying upstairs while you guys have some weird staring contest in the yard, you're wrong."

  She hesitated for a heartbeat, then let go, frustration tightening her mouth.

  "Fine," she said. "But you stay behind Jack. If I tell you to move, you move."

  ***

  We stepped out onto the porch.

  The air hit me first. Cold. Thick. Charged.

  The yard looked normal. My eyes skimmed over wet grass, the tire swing, the barn, the line of trees.

  Then I saw him.

  He stood near the far edge of the property, just inside the invisible line where lawn melted into forest, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense under his jacket. He wasn't facing us exactly. He stood slightly angled, like he was just an accidental passerby. The picture was so wrong that tiny hairs along my arms bristled.

  Jack didn't seem surprised. He simply walked down the steps with firm, measured strides.

  Ethan's head turned slowly, eyes focusing on him. His gaze flicked to me for a heartbeat, and in that instant something in my chest tugged, like a wire snapping taut.

  Jack stopped a few yards away from him, close enough for conversation, far enough that neither could reach the other in a single step.

  "Long way from Greystone land, boy," Jack said. His tone was mild, but there was nothing soft in it.

  Ethan's posture shifted almost imperceptibly. His eyes didn't drop.

  "Mr. Blackwell," he said evenly. "Respectfully, I needed to make sure your granddaughter was alright."

  The way he said the word granddaughter made something in my stomach flip.

  "You needed," Jack repeated. "Needed enough to nearly violate the inner circle of my territory."

  Ethan's jaw tightened. "She hasn't been at school. She isn't answering Nell." He trailed off. His throat moved. "I thought something might have happened."

  His gaze flicked to me again, fast, like a reflex.

  My heart stuttered.

  Jack followed the glance. For a second, all three of us were caught in a triangle of attention that made my skin crawl. In another situation I would've stepped up, said something. But everything about their demeanor screamed this wasn't a normal situation, and every move I could possibly make was a potential landmine.

  "I appreciate your concern," Jack said, half-turning and nodding toward me. "As you can see, she's perfectly well. You can now go home."

  Muscles bunched in Ethan's neck.

  "With respect, sir," he said, and the sir dripped like something he was forcing past his teeth, "that doesn't explain why she didn't answer Nell's texts. And she…" He paused, eyes darkening as they glanced at me. "She sme—" He stuttered. "Seems upset."

  The words dropped into the yard like a stone in still water, sending ripples I couldn't see.

  Jack's eyes narrowed.

  "Bold of you to imply what you're implying," he said. "You think I don't sense what's going on, even from here?"

  The air around us went very, very still.

  Blood rushed in my ears so loudly I almost missed Ethan's flinch.

  "I don't know what you mean," he said, too fast, too flat.

  Jack's mouth curled, humorless.

  "Don't insult me, pup," he said. "My grandfather's grandfather had a bloodkin in his pack. You know the story. The effect was the same. Pacing. Watching. Circling. Testing boundaries. We all know how that ended."

  A muscle jumped in Ethan's cheek.

  "How?" I asked before I could stop myself.

  Jack didn't look at me. His eyes stayed focused on Ethan, but his shoulders eased half an inch.

  "I can only imagine the storm in your mind that drew you out here." Jack's tone remained stern, but softer around the edges. He spared me a quick side glance. In there, I thought I saw a strange mix of bitterness and pride. "You sense her, you sense both prey and power. Fragility of human. Power of the bond and the alpha line. It simultaneously draws upon instincts that cannot coexist and clash. Violently. Clouding your judgment." His focus resettled on Ethan, who stood there upright and taut, eyes flickering toward me even though he seemed to try to keep them away. "I'm telling you this so you understand what is happening to you, boy, so you can stop it before it rolls too far down the hill."

  Ethan's hands curled into fists in his pockets.

  "I'm not the only one," he said. It came out low, almost snarled. "Others feel it, too."

  Jack's expression did not soften.

  "But you're the only one standing on my front lawn."

  A muscle in Ethan's jaw twitched.

  "I just wanted to make sure she's okay," Ethan repeated, quieter.

  He looked at me then, and his gaze held, branding into my skin. The pull that hit me wasn't mine at all, it was something pushing against me, like pressure under my skin. It felt like being hit with a wave of heat that overwhelmed my nervous system.

  "Are you alright?" he asked, voice so low I barely even heard it, but somehow felt it in my bones.

  My breath stuttered. My toes curled inside my shoes. I hated every second of it. Because I had no control over it. It was like his body had reached for mine, and my body responded against my will.

  "Yes." I lied, because that's all I could do, and hated how the word rasped against my throat like sand.

  Something screeched from the dark branches, a crow, perhaps, and a flock of birds scattered away from the rustling treetops. Jack spared me a wry glance, then turned his attention back to Ethan.

  "Look at yourself," he snorted. "Pacing like a half-mad dog around another male's property because she left your sight for a couple of days."

  Color rose along Ethan's throat.

  "Go home, boy," Jack said again, not breaking the stare. "There is still time. You pull back now, maybe you manage to scrape by with something left. You keep circling my granddaughter like this, that choice will disappear. And if that happens, you know what will follow."

  Ethan's gaze dragged away from me like it hurt him to remove it.

  For a moment, I thought he would argue, that he would dig in his heels, throw all that supposed rationality away and yell something he couldn't take back.

  Instead, he took a slow breath, nostrils flaring. His shoulders dropped a fraction.

  "I appreciate your concern, sir. But if walking away is so simple," he said quietly, clenching his teeth, "then how come she stands here at all?"

  Something dark and painful flickered through Jack's eyes at that. A deep, resonating vibration spread from his chest. Ethan stood his ground, knowing he had landed a hit.

  They stared at each other, the old and the young, the air thick with history I didn't understand.

  Then Ethan stepped back.

  "Know this," he said, and this time when his gaze cut to me it was quick but clean, like he was afraid to linger. "School will hold. Everything is under control. You have my word on that."

  I almost laughed. If that was control, God help us if he lost it.

  Jack said nothing.

  Ethan took another step back, then another, retreating toward the trees, every muscle in his body stiff with resistance.

  He turned only when he stepped under the branches.

  For a heartbeat, his eyes met mine again through the dark.

  That pull, the one from before, hit me anew, raw and electric and wrong, and my heart answered with a traitorous lurch. I didn't know what to think of it.

  He disappeared between the trunks.

  The air eased by a fraction, like someone had loosened the knot around my ribs.

  Jack stood there a moment longer, staring at the place where the forest had swallowed him.

  "Elise," he called without turning. "He is halfway cooked already."

  She stepped out onto the porch beside me, arms folded tight.

  "I know," she said.

  My hands trembled at my sides.

  "What does that mean?" I asked, hating the shake in my voice.

  Elise looked at me, and for the first time since this began she didn't try to smooth her face.

  "It means," she said quietly, "that you need to stay away from him."

  "He's too far gone to heed my warning," Jack cut in. "So it will fall to you to stop it from going any further."

  My voice scraped my throat raw. "Or?"

  Jack sliced me with a look. "Or this will end in blood."

  A shiver crawled up my spine, cold and relentless.

  "Whose blood?" I whispered.

  Jack was silent for several moments. Just as I thought he wouldn't answer, he quietly said, "Everyone's."

  My fingers clenched at my sides. I couldn't listen to him, couldn't process more of this, this madness.

  My dad, my dad who was not human but other, was lost in the forest, in more ways than one.

  At the edge of our land, a boy who was not just a boy was circling, drawn by something neither of us could define.

  And somewhere in the middle of it all stood me.

  The one they called bloodkin.

  Herald of chaos.