My fingers felt glued to Mitchell’s fur as I forced myself down the path.

  Taro would finish his tantrum eventually and come hunting.

  He’d knock over the cabinets, find the tunnel, and—

  Don’t think about that.

  You okay? Chaos asked softly.

  No, I said. But like before… Jack needs me to survive.

  There’s more to life than just surviving, Chaos murmured.

  A weary, ragged breath slipped out of me.

  Yeah. Well, that’s gonna take time to figure out.

  Is that progress? Dragoon asked.

  I snorted.

  Then the trees thinned—too abruptly—and the narrow path widened into a dirt road.

  Magic brushed over my skin like a static shock, and a sharp gasp tore out of me.

  My knees buckled.

  I dropped, burying my face in Mitchell’s fur.

  Soft.

  Warm.

  Real.

  My breath synced with his without me trying—his slow, steady inhale dragging my frantic one back under control.

  Mitchell pressed closer, his massive wolf body braced around me like a shield.

  I knelt there, trying to convince myself to move.

  Chaos and Dragoon murmured encouragement, but I couldn’t seem to unglue myself from Mitchell’s fur.

  Then human voices drifted toward us.

  “Dad, I do not need to help you hunt mushrooms for your apothecary,” a stern voice said—using the exact tone I’d used on troops in basic.

  “But as the sheriff of the town, you have to look after the elderly, Arthur,” the older man cackled.

  “I do!” Arthur groaned. “I get old man Marvin to stop dancing naked on his roof at least once a week. Would you quit telling him it helps cure warts?”

  “He needs the exercise,” the old man said cheerfully. “Miss Viola enjoys it.”

  “You are the Merlin!” Arthur huffed. “Why can’t you act a little more mature?!”

  “I did,” Merlin sniffed. “It was terrible. The only fun I had was with the spiders in libraries. Besides—if I wasn’t like this, you’d never have been born.”

  I like them, Chaos said.

  Of course he did.

  Footsteps stopped just ahead of us.

  “What th—” Arthur froze. “Couldn’t you have just told me a new paranormal was having a panic attack?!”

  “This was more fun,” Merlin said cheerfully.

  “By the Forces,” Arthur muttered, coming closer. “I’m telling Mom about this.”

  I shoved my face harder into Mitchell’s side.

  Carl, Chaos said gently, you need to let Mitchell shift.

  I knew Mitchell needed to shift.

  I knew it.

  But physically, I couldn’t let go.

  My hands were locked in his fur like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

  Footsteps stopped beside me.

  Knees hit dirt.

  “It’s okay,” Arthur said softly. “If anyone means you harm, they can’t enter a haven town.”

  I hate how I am, I whispered to Chaos.

  You’re fine, Chaos murmured. Look how far you’ve come in just a few days.

  “Son,” Merlin said, for once sounding serious, “he needs to stay in contact with the wolf shifter.”

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  “Yeah,” Arthur sighed. “And I need to know what the hell is going on.”

  He shifted his weight.

  “Listen, shifter—mind if I cast a spell—”

  “No magic!”

  The words tore out of my throat, raw and panicked.

  Silence.

  “Well,” Merlin said mildly, “that’s a new one.”

  Arthur didn’t speak for a long moment.

  “…Dad?”

  “Yes, sonny boy?”

  Arthur groaned under his breath.

  “You need to head back to town and tell Deputy Blaine he’s in charge for the rest of the day.”

  A long, baffled pause.

  “Why though?” Merlin asked.

  “Just go do it,” Arthur grumbled. “Or I’ll have Mom sic old lady Wilson on you.”

  Magic rippled through the air as Merlin teleported—

  and every nerve in my body lit up in terror.

  My grip on Mitchell tightened until my knuckles ached.

  My heart slammed hard against my ribs.

  Arthur swore softly.

  “I wanted him to walk there,” he muttered. “I am so, so sorry about my father.”

  I had to talk.

  I swallowed hard.

  It wasn’t their fault.

  “Scared.”

  Yep. Big word.

  Why couldn’t I be normal?

  “Yeah…” Arthur said quietly. “I gathered that.”

  His voice softened when he really looked at me—saw the shaking, the way I was barely holding myself together.

  “Mind looking at me for a minute?”

  I shook my head.

  “Jonathan, I know what you’re going through,” he said, his voice strained. “I watched what you did that night.”

  I froze.

  The mage who shared my cell.

  The one who tried to talk me out of it.

  He’d been imprisoned because his father was powerful.

  Arthur Ambrosious. Son of Merlin.

  “Hey,” he murmured. “John… is it okay if I touch your shoulder?”

  I swallowed hard.

  Then I looked at him.

  Looking wasn’t talking.

  But my body remembered him—

  the only calm thing in that cell

  before everything shattered.

  Slowly, I nodded.

  Arthur moved carefully, like someone approaching a wounded animal.

  He kept his hand low, visible. No sudden movements.

  Then he rested it on my shoulder—warm, steady, real.

  Nothing like the cold hands that had held me down.

  Nothing like the magic that had torn me apart.

  I sucked in a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  “You’re safe,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

  My throat worked, but words refused to come.

  Arthur exhaled softly, understanding.

  “I remember you,” he continued. “Not the broken bits—those weren’t you. I mean you. The man trying to keep the rest of us sane. The one who talked to me when I panicked. The one who tried to help everyone else even when he was falling apart.”

  That hit harder than any magic ever had.

  He saw me.

  Back then.

  Now.

  Not as a failure.

  Not as a meltdown.

  Not as a cage of routines.

  But as a person.

  My breath hitched—sharp, unfamiliar.

  “You don’t have to hide from me,” Arthur added softly.

  “Not then. Not now.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “John is dead,” I whispered. “Carl now.”

  “Because of how you escaped?” Arthur asked quietly.

  I swallowed hard and nodded.

  His hand shifted to my back—slow, steady circles meant to ground, not crowd.

  “Do you know what happened because you escaped?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Your bravery—and the spell shattering—helped everyone else get out,” Arthur said. “Damian found out. He freed me so I could help kill Barton Carmichael.”

  My breath stalled.

  “My unit,” I whispered. “They didn’t escape.”

  Arthur’s expression tightened.

  “I know,” he said gently. “He tried changing them. None survived. Except you.”

  Injection after injection.

  Nothing took.

  Only pain.

  Like trying to force a glove onto a hand it wasn’t made for.

  “Taro injected me,” I said numbly, fingers curling deeper into Mitchell’s fur. He heard everything, but stayed steady for me.

  “Taro is insane,” Arthur growled, eyes flashing.

  “Shadow dragon venom,” I whispered. “It took.”

  Dragged my unit’s location out of me.

  Killed them trying to improve them.

  Shifter venom after shifter venom.

  Failure after failure.

  Death after death.

  Why did I survive?

  Behind me, Mitchell shifted—bones reshaping, fur withdrawing, mass settling back into the familiar shape of a man.

  He didn’t speak.

  Just reached out and laid a steady hand on my arm.

  Slow. Warm. Circles.

  Grounding.

  Present.

  Not demanding answers.

  Not questioning.

  Just there.

  “Carl,” Arthur said, his tone firm but gentle, “they didn’t die because of the venom. Barton wanted them to die. He wanted you to suffer. He was a messed-up bastard.”

  Mitchell’s hand stayed steady on my arm.

  “None of this is your fault,” he said quietly. “You survived so you could be there for Jack.”

  A tiny sound slipped out of me.

  Not a sob.

  Just… a crack.

  “Why me?”

  “He didn’t know,” Arthur said. “I heard him rant about it. It infuriated him. For some reason, you just wouldn’t die. Then you escaped—and that made him slip up. Damian noticed.”

  I looked up at him.

  “You,” Arthur said, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth, “a mere human, survived a powerful magical dragon. So thoroughly that it led to his downfall.”

  His hand stilled on my back.

  Then he moved it, rubbing absently at his wrist instead.

  Heavy scars flashed across his skin before he tugged his sleeve back down.

  “It was the first and only time I unleashed the full force of my magic,” he said softly. The grin stayed, but his eyes turned haunted. “It scared me. I had to relearn that using it wasn’t evil.”

  I stared at the place where he’d hidden his scars.

  “You hid too,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah…” Arthur chuckled. “But having a crazy old Merlin for a father didn’t exactly let me keep hiding. He’s a bully when he wants to be.”

  “We all have scars, Lieutenant,” Mitchell said gently.

  “I’m not—”

  “Who came out barking orders when Taro attacked the bunker?” Mitchell cut in, a very wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Carl wasn’t the one yelling at a dumb private to move.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I said move,” I grumbled.

  “Carl…” Arthur said, then hesitated. “Let me show you how normal paranormals live.”

  He winced slightly.

  “Assuming our older, bored ones aren’t currently causing mischief that’s about to backfire.”

  Mitchell chuckled—then paused.

  “Is there another pack here?” he asked carefully. “I don’t want to intrude on anyone’s territory.”

  “Yes…” Arthur said slowly. “But they drove out their Alpha about six months ago.”

  Mitchell frowned. “Drove him out? Why?”

  “Because he was trying to convince them to join Taro in his little crusade to turn every human into a shifter.”

  That settled heavy in my chest.

  Arthur rose to his feet and held a hand out to me.

  ‘Small steps,’ Dragoon whispered. ‘Can’t wait until we can go on a proper deer hunt.’

  I… liked hunting.

  I took Arthur’s offered hand and pushed myself up—shaky, unsteady, but standing.

  “As long as I don’t see any naked old men,” I muttered.

  Arthur let out a long-suffering sigh.

  “I really wish I could promise that.”