Nell had known something was wrong with Ethan long before he finally succumbed to the bloodkin in the dead-end hallway.

  The change had started quietly, in small ways. The way his jaw stayed locked a second too long when Kelsey spoke. The way his gaze cut to her every time she entered his line of vision. How he scanned the space around her, eyes narrowing at every male that passed too close or looked for too long. How his nostrils flared without him noticing. He was breathing the poison like a perfume, and he wasn't even aware of it.

  At first, he fiercely denied that he was affected. He had justification for everything.

  His interference was prevention of escalation.

  Claiming her in the courtyard was "setting boundaries".

  But beneath all that, something else was stirring.

  It took one idiotic decision, isolating himself with her in the forest, for things to finally click into place.

  That evening he'd confessed to Nell, and her alone, that he'd been affected, that he felt part of him acted faster than his mind when Kelsey was near.

  And he was upset.

  Nell had never seen her older brother upset.

  It became their secret. No one could know.

  Ethan could lose authority at school, their family's standing could be questioned.

  Others, like Gary Winters, Lara's father, could challenge their father for the position. Their family had wanted to climb the ranks in the hierarchy ever since the fall of the Blackwells and saw their chance through marriage.

  The realization sobered Ethan, and he kept his distance from the bloodkin girl.

  Until that day in the transitional corridor.

  After the blood on Kelsey's hand, after the dead end and the way he came back from it, all pupils and shredded control, everything slid into another gear.

  ***

  He did not sleep that weekend.

  Nell knew because she didn't either, and the walls in their house were thin enough for lupine hearing. She heard him pacing his room, back and forth, floorboards sighing under the same steps until the rhythm etched itself into her nerves.

  Sometimes he stopped. At first she thought he had finally crashed, that instinct had dragged him into exhausted unconsciousness. Then she heard the creak of the floorboards near the window, and she knew he was there, staring toward Blackwell land.

  Toward the house that held a bloodkin girl who had no idea what she was doing to him.

  ***

  Their mother, Natalie, watched him, eyes often narrowed in silence. Their father, Jason, didn't simply watch. He observed. Every move Ethan made, every word that came out of his mouth, the way he carried the strain in his shoulders, his jaw. Jason's gaze felt like an instrument detecting weaknesses.

  "So," their father had said one evening at dinner, voice light in the way that meant it was not. "I hear the Blackwell girls have settled in. Any trouble at school so far?"

  Nell went very still, all attention snapping onto her brother who kept looking at his plate.

  "No, nothing beyond normal," he replied. "You know how it is with a new scent. Dynamics shift a bit. But nothing the pack can't get accustomed to in time."

  "A new scent," Jason said. His mouth twisted. "Jack must be thrilled with what his heir had done with their lineage."

  Natalie gave him a look Nell knew well. A warning. Not in front of the kids.

  Jason ignored it. "You've been near that bloodkin enough," he went on. "The older one. Tell me honestly, how bad is it?"

  Ethan's hand, the one holding a fork, froze. Nell noticed how he forced his shoulders to stay loose.

  "It is manageable," he said, lying through his teeth. "I'm not some half-trained pup. I can function around one girl who smells a bit strange."

  Nell stabbed a piece of meat too hard. The blood oozed on the plate, staining it red.

  "A bit strange," Jason repeated. His gaze sharpened. "The last time there was a bloodkin within the pack, over half of the young males went crazy. It caused bloodshed of such magnitude that the whole pack was decimated. The bloodkin, with whom everything had started, was among the first to be torn apart when things got out of hand. The pack barely recovered. You know the stories."

  "Yes," Ethan said. "I also know I have better control than most. I'm your son, after all."

  Jason's eyes held his for a long second. Searching. Testing.

  At last, Jason leaned back. "You are." he said. "But also bear in mind that you're spoken for. We have invested years in that contract. After Blackwell downfall Gary Winters was the alpha pretendent. It was either this or challenge," he said. "You have obligations beyond the containment of the bloodkin girl." Jason snorted. "Don't mix them up. I don't want to be forced to condone another disciplinary measure against our allies."

  Natalie suddenly bristled. "It was a female thing, and it was necessary for the maintenance of our authority. Or do you want your daughter to lose respect?"

  Nell felt a rise of discomfort wash over her. She focused on her plate, biting her tongue.

  Jason straightened, frame growing wider until he seemed to fill up space.

  "That is why I let you handle it." He cut off. "But it cannot become a recurring thing."

  Natalie leaned back. "Perhaps you should've thought about it before you allowed damn bloodkin into the pack in the first place."

  Jason froze. The air thickened, charged. He and Natalie stared at one another across the table.

  "Everything is fine." Nell said, voice thin as a blade. "Ethan and I have it under control. Lara's back in school. Everything is as it should be."

  Ethan glanced at her, eyes widening a fraction in something akin to surprise.

  The air slowly loosened. Their father, then their mother silently resumed the meal.

  However, the tension remained.

  ***

  By Saturday afternoon Natalie had had enough of his restless pacing and insisted they go hunting.

  "We'll go for a run," she told Ethan, her voice clipped, the way she spoke when she was nudging them toward sanity. "You'll clear your head. And we'll use the opportunity to smooth things over with the Winterses." She added, landing a wary glance on Nell. She meant the disciplinary measure, necessary but politically inconvenient, exactly the sort of thing Lara's family would use as leverage.

  They went deep into the woods. Lara and her family joined them. The shift rolled through the group like a dark tide, seamless and smooth as the forest welcomed them home.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Nell watched Ethan run.

  There was power in it, there always was. He'd been born to this, his body made for speed and impact, for reading wind and ground in the same breath. For a while, paws flying over moss and needles, she hoped the freedom of the wilderness and the ancient comfort of the hunt would chew some of the madness out of him.

  It didn't.

  He ran too fast, overshooting the others, snapping back, circling with a restless agitation that put everyone on edge. When Lara bumped his shoulder too hard and gave him a look that was half challenge and half invitation, he snarled without thinking, a sound that made even her ears flatten.

  Lara's eyes narrowed, just briefly, like she'd sensed something she wasn't meant to.

  Ethan apologized later. Adrenaline from the hunt, he said, but Nell knew better.

  He wasn't right.

  And he was getting worse.

  ***

  By Monday morning, he was coming apart at the seams.

  "She isn't here, Nell. Something must've happened." He stood rigid, hands clenched at his hips.

  "She's probably sick," Nell replied, rolling her eyes. "Bloodkin are practically human, and humans get sick. It happens."

  Ethan's nostrils flared. The faint, lingering echo of Kelsey's scent from previous days still haunted the school grounds.

  "Has she answered you yet?" he asked, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

  "I texted her once," Nell replied. "It's been less than half an hour. Get a grip."

  His jaw clenched. "Nell."

  She knew that tone, alpha-to-be, voice sharpening into command without conscious intent. She rolled her eyes to drag him back down.

  "Fine," she muttered, pulling out her phone. "I'll send one more, and then you're going to act normal for the rest of the day. Or at least try."

  She typed quickly and hit send.

  "There. She'll answer when she wants to," she said. "You hovering won't help."

  He didn't respond. His shoulders stayed tight. In math, he didn't last five minutes.

  He took one look at the empty seat Kelsey usually sat in, inhaled once, then grabbed his bag and walked out.

  Mr. Varga called his name once, a question, not a reprimand. Ethan kept walking.

  ***

  Nell found him during lunch break, outside behind the building, leaning against the wall like he was trying to hold it up with his spine, fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose.

  "Seriously, Ethan? You can't even stay in class?" she asked.

  He dropped his hand and glared. "I'm fine."

  "You're a shit liar," she snapped. "You barely eat or sleep anymore. You almost picked a fight with Lara in the forest. With Lara, while her parents were there. And now you're skipping classes because some human girl missed one day of school."

  "You know damn right she's not just a human girl," he said.

  The words hung there, too heavy, too true.

  Nell exhaled slowly. "I know that. I walk next to her every day. I have eyes and ears and a nose. But I'm not the one pacing my room like a caged tiger at two in the morning."

  He looked away, jaw flexing.

  "It's not the same and you know it." His voice dropped to a low vibration.

  "I know," Nell began, but he cut her off.

  "I can still smell her," he said. "Even now." He shut his mouth like the words themselves were dangerous.

  Nell waited.

  "It's like when the wind shifts before a storm," he said. "You can't see anything yet, but your whole body knows. It's like that. All the time."

  Nell's stomach tightened.

  "This is exactly why Dad didn't want them back here," she said. "He knew it was a bad idea, but the alternative was worse. Imagine a lone alpha with broken-bond sickness loose among humans." She rubbed her arms. "That's why he gave me the order to babysit. We've never had a bloodkin in the pack. He thought we could contain it."

  Ethan's jaw tightened. "We all did."

  The bell rang in the distance.

  "Go back inside," she said. "People will notice. And then it's only a matter of time before someone challenges you. You know this."

  No response.

  "Ethan."

  He didn't move, eyes glazed and distant.

  "I keep thinking about that day at the dead end," he said softly. "About the blood. How everything about her spiked, burned through me." He paused. "It was like falling off a cliff. One second I was trying to hold the line, the next…" He swallowed.

  "If you keep spiraling," Nell said quietly, "they'll send her back to the city. Her father isn't stable. He won't tolerate it. There will be bloodshed. You know it."

  The threat landed hard. She saw it in the way his face shut down, in the way his shoulders squared.

  "No," he said. "No, I can't let that happen."

  Nell straightened. "Then pull yourself together."

  ***

  He tried. For the rest of the day, he truly tried. But the strain was visible in every movement, every word, every look.

  "She'll answer," she told him again as they walked toward the parking lot.

  "She should've answered already."

  "You're not her superior," Nell said sharply. "You're not anything to her, legally or officially. She isn't pack. To her, you're just a boy from school. You don't get to decide how fast she texts."

  He stopped. His gaze drifted toward the other side of town, toward Blackwell land.

  "Nell," he said, and this time it wasn't command. "Can't you smell it?"

  She reached out. The wind blew from the east, from where Blackwell land lay, carrying something faint but unmistakable.

  So sweet it hurt. Human, yet more. Bloodkin.

  "Yes," she whispered. "I can smell it."

  He started walking east.

  "Ethan," she warned. "Don't."

  He didn't look back.

  She cursed and followed.

  By the time they reached the lower ridge, his stride bordered on a run.

  "If Dad finds out you've crossed into Jack Blackwell's inner ring," she hissed, grabbing his sleeve, "he'll tear your head off before Jack even gets the chance."

  He halted.

  "I'm not crossing," he said.

  "You're headed straight for their house."

  "She's there."

  Nell closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course she is. It's her grandfather's house."

  "I just need to know she's alright."

  "You don't need," Nell said. "You want. Those aren't the same."

  He pulled free, gentle but firm. "Go home, Nell. Cover for me."

  "Absolutely not."

  "The cliff is already behind me," he said quietly. "I fell days ago."

  And he walked on.

  Nell cursed and followed, because there was nothing else she could do.

  ***

  Nell stood hidden among the trees as her brother paced both Jack's border and her nerves.

  Of course the old Blackwell sensed him right away.

  The door opened and Jack Blackwell stepped into the yard, the former alpha moving with the slow certainty of someone who had watched too many young lupines test too many lines.

  Kelsey appeared behind him, still and pale as a ghost.

  Something Jack said made Ethan flinch. After a long, taut silence, Ethan stepped back.

  Relief hit her so hard her knees shook.

  They retreated separately. Nell took a slightly longer path. She reached the house just as Ethan came around from the side, his expression shuttered.

  "Nell," he said.

  She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him behind the garage.

  "You're out of your mind," she hissed. "Do you have any idea what he could've done to you?"

  "He didn't do anything," he said. "And I haven't breached the line."

  Nell gaped at him. "Yeah, barely. And that's beside the point."

  Ethan closed his eyes as silence pooled between them.

  "It's quieter," he said suddenly. He tapped his temple once, then his chest. "In here. Since I saw her." His face relaxed. "Finally. Like a storm passed and I can breathe again."

  Nell went still.

  "Quieter," she repeated.

  He nodded, jaw tight. "All weekend I couldn't breathe. Everywhere I went, it was like she was there anyway. Her scent. Her voice. Like I was dragging her shadow behind me. The further away she was, the worse it got." He swallowed. "And now," he went on, slower, more careful, "I know she's still here, safe." His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "It doesn't fix anything. It just keeps my thoughts clearer. For now."

  A void opened inside her gut.

  That pattern. She knew it from the stories. The irritability, the heightened sensitivity, then inversion as the bond began to take root. But the stories had never described it this strong, this volatile.

  "Ethan," she said slowly, "do you realize what you're describing?"

  He frowned. "I'm describing a problem. A big one."

  "Do you know what bonds feel like?"

  He blinked. "No. That's impossible."

  "You just stood on another alpha's line," Nell said. "You nearly picked a fight over a bloodkin girl you barely know."

  He went quiet.

  The wind shifted, carrying the faintest echo of Blackwell land.

  "Ethan," she said, "you can't muscle your way through this. You can't discipline it away and pretend it'll burn out."

  His jaw clenched. "What do you want me to say? You want me to admit that this freaks me out? That I don't know what to do?" He looked at her, eyes bright and wrong. "If you're so smart, tell me what you'd do in my place. I'll listen. Because ever since that day in the dead end, I feel like I'm in a dream I can't wake up from."

  She pressed her lips together.

  "If this really is the start of a bond," she said carefully, "there is no right thing to do. I don't know how these things work with humans. Or worse, bloodkin."

  He stared at her. "Stop saying that word," he whispered, then spat it like it hurt. "Bond. It's not. It can't be. It doesn't feel like it should."

  "Because she isn't lupine," Nell said through clenched teeth. "It's not a normal bond, it's… only God knows what."

  "I didn't choose this," he said, barely audible. "It just happened. I know it's messed up." He ran a hand through his hair. "And I know what it means. If Dad gets a whiff of it, there won't be talking. He'll act." He looked at her. "And you know what that means."

  Nell nodded. "The Winterses won't stay silent either. The Blackwells will retaliate." She paused. "Full pack war."

  Ethan nodded. "You have to help me find a way to fix this before somebody gets killed. It's non-negotiable."

  Nell watched him, breathing slowly, trying to contain her own racing thoughts.

  "Alright," she said finally. "Normally I'd tell you to stay away. But the inversion makes it impossible."

  "So what should we do?" he asked, voice raw.

  She touched his arm. "Okay. Listen to me."

  He looked up, amber eyes stripped bare.

  The answer formed in her mind, insane and dangerous and catastrophic. But it was the only one that didn't immediately lead to disaster.

  "If you can't stay away, if you need her near," Nell said quietly, "then we do the opposite. We keep Kelsey close to you."

  Ethan's breath hitched. "What?"

  "You heard me." She squeezed his arm. "She stabilizes you. That's the only thing keeping you from a full spiral. So we keep her close and buy time until we can figure this out."

  He shut his eyes as a tremor ran through him.

  For a moment, he looked younger. Almost like a kid drowning in something too big.

  "We'll get through this," Nell said. "But we do it smart. Quiet. Fast."

  He nodded once.

  "Come on," she said. "Let's get home before Mom and Dad start asking questions."

  They walked side by side through the trees.

  Above them, the wind shifted, carrying a faint scent. Once sizzling, now comforting.

  Kelsey.

  Ethan inhaled sharply.

  Nell shot him a warning look.

  "Control it."

  His jaw clenched as he forced the breath out.

  But he obeyed.

  For now.