Chapter 80

At first, Jack's words did not make sense. They entered my ears, struck my skull, and broke apart there without being shaped into meaning.

Greystone marked you.

The evening breeze toyed with a stray lock of my hair almost mockingly. Jack's arm was locked around my waist from behind, not hurting me, but holding me with the kind of force that made it very clear he would rather physically carry me back into the house than let me take another step toward the woods.

I stared at the dark gap between the trees where Dad had disappeared.

"No," I said. The word sounded small, almost calm.

Jack did not answer.

"No," I repeated, and this time my voice gained footing. "No, that's not what happened. Ethan wouldn't. He said he would never."

Elise stood on the porch behind us, one hand braced against the doorframe, her face pale in the light spilling from the kitchen. Her eyes were not on me. They were on the woods.

Jack's grip tightened by one careful fraction when I tried to twist toward him.

"Intent is not what matters most to us," he said. "Not in this situation."

"Us," I echoed, and the words came out ugly because I hated them suddenly, hated all of them, hated their noses, their rules, their secret meanings built into skin and breath and probably some glands I didn't even have. "Well, I'm not us ." I spat, pouring all the pain and venom into it. "So explain. Right now."

Jack's breath moved hard against the back of my head. For a moment I thought he would soften. Instead, he let go of me slowly, as if releasing a wire under tension, and stepped around until I could see his face. I expected him to be angry. Surprisingly, he wasn't. And that was somehow worse because he was so serious it scared me.

"The Greystone heir put his scent on you in a way that reads as a claim," he said, each word chosen with terrible care. "Not just any claim, because a claim isn't necessarily a personal act. It can also be declarative, political, or territorial." He paused, taking a breath. "This one, however, is as personal as it can get. By marking you with his scent, he has exposed your relationship to the whole pack. That means us, that means his family, the alpha, and everyone else in the valley, including all those who might oppose." Jack paused, his expression grim as his gaze followed Elise's to the trees. "That brings consequences, Kelsey. Your beau should have known that." What he didn't say, and what I could read on his face, was disappointment.

He had believed Ethan wouldn't do it. I had believed it, too.

"But he didn't," I said desperately. "He just held me. I was upset, and he held me. That's all. We washed. We washed everything."

Jack's eyes flicked, not to my face, but to my throat, then away again so quickly it might have been mercy.

"You cannot wash this."

The cold went straight through me, like a gust of northern wind.

Behind us, inside the house, Hailey called my name once from upstairs, soft and uncertain. Elise flinched as if the sound had touched an open wound.

I turned toward the house. My bag lay where I had dropped it near the door, one strap twisted under itself. My phone was inside it. I remembered that it had buzzed.

I broke away from Jack so fast he almost caught me again on instinct. This time he did not stop me. I stumbled up the porch steps, pushed past Elise, and grabbed the bag with shaking hands. The zipper snagged, then gave up. I reached inside until my fingers found the phone.

The screen lit. Ethan. Kelse, don't go inside yet.

The message had been sent minutes ago. Too late.

My breath vanished. I typed before thought could form.

What happened? Are you okay?

I stared at the screen. No dots appeared. I sent another.

Ethan, please answer.

Nothing.

The porch door hung half open behind Jack, letting cold air spill over the floor. The broken pieces of the remote were scattered across the living room floor near the couch, tiny black fragments on a moss green carpet. Everything was too ordinary and too ruined at once.

I looked down at my phone again and opened Nell's thread.

Nell, is Ethan with you?

I waited. No answer.

Nell, please. Tell me if everything's okay.

Still nothing. My fingers were so cold I mistyped the third message twice.

Is Ethan okay?

The word sat on the screen like a hole. I sent it anyway.

Jack said my name. I looked up. He had moved between me and the porch door again without making a sound. Elise had moved too and now stood nearer the hall, angled toward the stairs, not blocking me exactly, but close enough that if I tried to run through the house, she would reach me first.

The realization came slowly. "You're trapping me."

"No," Jack said. "We are keeping you alive."

My phone stayed silent in my hand. A pressure began building in my chest, a panic. My father was in the woods, Ethan was not answering, Nell was not answering, and everyone in this house was looking at me as if I had once again become an event instead of a person.

A howl rose from the woods, both close and far, cutting through my every thought until only one remained.

"Is Dad going to hurt him?" I asked. "Is he going to hurt Ethan?"

Elise closed her eyes. Jack did not move, but something crossed his face. So small. So fast. I caught it anyway.

The kitchen tilted.

"Oh my God."

I grabbed my coat from the hook by the door. Another howl rose, further away. Jack stepped in front of me before I got my arm through the sleeve.

"No."

"Move."

"No."

"Please, move."

His shoulders squared, filling the space between me and the door. "You are not going after them."

"I have to warn him."

"It is already too late for warning."

The sentence struck harder than a shout. I stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means whatever was going to happen has already begun or already ended, and you running into the woods now will not change it, except by giving Gabriel one more thing to lose control over."

I shook my head. "No. You don't know that."

"You think I like not knowing?" His voice roughened. "You think I enjoy standing here while my son is lost somewhere between rage and grief and I cannot follow because the granddaughter he might die or kill to protect is standing in my kitchen wearing a mark that acts as a target on her back?"

The words silenced me. Only for a second. Then the panic came back worse.

"But Ethan... He didn't mean to. If it happened, it must have happened accidentally. He wouldn't do it on purpose."

Jack's gaze softened for the first time. "I believe you."

The relief lasted no longer than a breath. "But, like I said, it does not change what Gabriel smelled or what it means in Cold Creek."

I pressed the phone so hard between my fingers that the edges bit into my palm. "What do we do now?"

No one answered immediately. The house seemed to stand still around us. The grandfather clock quietly ticked in the hallway. Somewhere upstairs, floorboards creaked under Hailey's small, nervous steps. Outside, the woods were silent.

Elise was the one who spoke. "Now we wait."

The words made something inside me collapse. Wait . No. Not again. I didn't have it in me to go through that again.

Hailey appeared halfway down the stairs, Mr. Winkle clutched tightly against her chest. His hat was missing. Her face was pale and too awake.

"Is Daddy sick again?"

No one moved. The question found every adult in the room and left none of them standing safely.

Elise turned first, her expression softening so quickly it almost hurt to watch. "Sweetheart," she said, climbing the stairs toward her. "Come back up. I'll make you a nice bath..."

Hailey looked past her, straight at me. "Is he?"

My mouth opened. Nothing came out. Jack looked away. That was the closest thing to an answer she got.

Hailey's lower lip trembled. Elise reached her and gathered her close, one arm around her shoulders, the other hand smoothing over her hair.

"We don't know yet," she said gently. "But we are here. You are safe in the house. Come upstairs with me."

Hailey let herself be led away, but her eyes stayed on me until the hallway swallowed her.

***

After that, the night became a room with no doors.

Jack stood near the porch door like a guard. Elise came down much later, after Hailey finally fell into a shallow, restless sleep, and she moved through the kitchen without purpose, wiping counters that were already clean, picking up broken plastic from the living room carpet, folding the dish towel once, then unfolding it again. Old routine, the one I remembered when Dad broke the first time, now replayed anew.

I sat at the table with my phone in both hands. Every few minutes, I sent another message.

Ethan? Please. Just tell me you're okay. Nell, I know you're there. Please answer. Just one word. I don't know what happened. Please.

The messages stacked under each other, bright and useless. No reply came.

At some point, Elise put tea in front of me. At some point later, Jack told me to go upstairs. I did not move. Nobody forced me.

I stared into the golden brown liquid in front of me and listened to the house settle into night. In my mind I kept seeing Ethan at the spring, mud on his hands, breath a little too fast, body too hot against mine. I kept seeing his face when I asked whether this pull I felt could be a bond, that cold shock before he gathered himself enough to answer. I kept seeing Dad through the barn wall, hearing the broken shape of my name in his mouth, the way he had said he was trying as if trying were a rope he could hold to keep from breaking himself apart.

By the time the sky outside the kitchen window began to pale, I had stopped expecting my phone to buzz and started fearing it would.