Chapter 23
Cora
I found Ethan by the vending machines, surveying an array of werewolf snacks. He was squinting at the labels with great interest until I walked in.
"Hey," I said.
“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, flashing a grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be glued to a spreadsheet right now?”
“Not today. I was looking for Kingston, actually. Do you know where he went?”
Ethan looked up, blinking in surprise. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
He cocked his head. “Wait… you don’t have a mindlink, do you?”
I frowned. “A what?”
“A mindlink,” he repeated, as if that explained anything. “It’s like… a telepathic group chat for werewolves. Pack members only.”
“Oh,” I said slowly. “No, I’m not exactly on that list.”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair and let out a soft whistle. “Wow. Okay. That explains it. Yesterday, Kingston sent out a message to everyone and said he was going to the Full Moon Gathering.”
“The Full Moon Gathering?” I echoed.
“It’s the Silverfang Pack’s biggest annual event. Normally, I go in his place. I hate it, but it’s part of the job of being his second. This year though, he told everyone—very dramatically, I might add—that I haven’t taken a single day of annual leave in three years.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You haven’t?”
He looked sheepish. “Well, no. But I don’t need a break. I like working.”
“Apparently Kingston thinks you need one still.”
“Yeah, he said something about ‘setting an example for employee welfare’ and then literally ordered me to go sit on a beach for a week. Guess I’m going to take the next few days off.”
Ethan rolled his eyes but smiled. “So he’s going to the Gathering himself. He left for it this morning.”
My chest tightened unexpectedly. He’d left? Without telling me? I mean—I wasn’t expecting some grand goodbye, but… nothing?
It wasn’t just the silence—it was the deliberate silence. He was clearly avoiding me.
And I had no idea why.
Back at my desk, I stared at the folder on my screen—the one containing the files Ethan had recovered. In front of me was my proof, all the evidence I’d spent weeks chasing down.
No matter how Kingston felt about me right now, I had a responsibility to send this over and show him the truth.
So I composed a short, professional email. No emotion or questions. Just the facts.
Attached is the recovered data from the Sales Department, my message stated. Please see highlighted sections for tampering records and surveillance timestamps. I trust this will clarify recent events, but I can go over these in-person if necessary.
I attached the folder and hit send. The message status flickered to read almost immediately.
Then nothing. No reply or thank you. If he hadn’t had his read notifications on, I wouldn’t have even been sure he received it.
I stared at the blinking cursor in my inbox until the screen blurred. Then I shut my laptop with a little more force than necessary.
With Kingston gone and the office unusually quiet, I decided to take advantage of the lull. I left early to pick up Riley from daycare, a small joy I rarely got to indulge in. He greeted me with a huge grin and a smear of paint across his cheek.
“Mom! We made paper dragons!”
“Does yours breathe fire?” I asked, taking his hand.
“Mine eats hot dogs,” he said seriously.
I smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth. A normal day, for once.
But the peace was short-lived.
I remembered that Kingston’s schedule had said that he would be in the lab that afternoon, before he was meant to return to the office and instead went to the Full Moon event. Foolishly, I found myself being drawn in the direction of the lab.
I had been looking for his car, some evidence that he was around, but instead I saw five blaring firetrucks and a sky painted black with smoke.
At first I thought it was someone unsuccessfully burning leaves behind the fence, which in itself seemed foolish. Then I saw the crowd.
The lab was on fire.
I froze, heart lurching.
The drug research lab—Kingston’s main project. The one we’d toured together. The one that held months of work, was the future of Kingston’s Alpha King campaign, and represented the future for hybrid werewolves.
“Mom?” Riley tugged at my sleeve. “Why are there so many fire trucks?”
I rolled down the window as I drove up onto the curb. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air. One of the lab researchers spotted me and rushed over, panting and frantic.
“Cora! Zone A—our backup data, the core project—it’s all still in there!”
“What?!”
“It’s in a black hard-shell briefcase. It was in the data server room. If we lose that—” He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.
My chest tightened.
“Here,” I said, dropping to one knee. “Take Riley. Get him somewhere safe.”
“Mom—?”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll be right back.”
I handed him off before I could think too hard and sprinted toward the fire.
Inside, the air was thick and choking. I pulled the collar of my blouse up over my mouth and nose and moved low to the ground, navigating through the smoke with my memory of the layout.
Thank God for that tour with Kingston when I’d meticulously studied the building map in preparation. Now every turn was burned into my mind with perfect clarity.
I found Zone A. The servers were already half-melted, some of the wiring sparking. But the briefcase was there, sitting in the corner and miraculously intact.
I grabbed it and turned to leave…
Just as part of the ceiling gave out with a deafening crash.
A steel beam collapsed, blocking the hallway.
My exit was gone. I was completely and utterly trapped.
Smoke poured in from somewhere behind me, hot and dizzying. I backed up, trying not to panic, trying not to think about the heat licking at my ankles or the way my lungs screamed for air.
I clutched the briefcase to my chest and staggered toward the emergency exit. It was stuck.
The smoke thickened, turning everything into a blur of orange and gray.
I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe.
My knees buckled. My head spun. I dropped to the floor, the briefcase clutched under one arm, the other stretched toward nothing.
I heard a low growl.
A thud.
Then—
Him.
A huge wolf burst through the flames like a ghost out of legend. His eyes locked on mine.
Kingston.
I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. My lips moved uselessly.
He didn’t need words. He was already there. Kingston ducked his massive head under my arm, nudging the briefcase into my grip, then gently but firmly pulled me across the floor.
Flames roared above us. My vision narrowed. I clung to his fur and followed through the fire and the pain and the suffocating haze.
And then—air. Sweet, cool air. I gasped like I had just emerged from water, filling my lungs.
We collapsed just outside the building, and I rolled onto my back, coughing until my chest burned.
Kingston shifted back beside me, his body trembling from the exertion.
He was shirtless, bruised, soot-streaked, and he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
“You idiot,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “What were you thinking?”
I tried to smile. “Had to save the research.”
“Of course you did,” he grumbled.
We sat there for a long moment in the silence between sirens, my heart pounding loud enough to drown them all out. It was a wonder I had survived. It was a wonder Kingston, of all people, had saved me. Again.
I couldn’t tell if this was the beginning of our reconciliation or something even bigger.
