Blood welled on my thumb. Another thorn sliced through my skin as I reached into the dense thicket.

"Add a new column to the spreadsheet," I muttered to myself, wiping the crimson drop on my jeans. "Column D. Emotional toll."

My body felt like a patchwork quilt of ownership. Kade's forced rhythm thumped against my collarbone. Leo’s purple bruise burned hot on my left wrist. Every inch of my skin hummed with foreign energy.

I snapped the stem of a large rose. White petals, bleeding into bright pink edges.

"Those flowers are for the dead."

I spun around, dropping the bloom.

Mason sat perched on the high stone wall of the garden. He kicked his legs back and forth, entirely unbothered by the sheer drop behind him.

"You sneak up on people just like your brothers," I said, rubbing my scarred wrist.

"I didn't sneak," Mason replied. "You were just too busy talking to yourself."

He hopped down from the masonry. He didn't land with a heavy thud. His sneakers barely made a sound on the gravel.

Cradled against his chest was a porcelain doll. Its painted face was mapped with spiderweb cracks. One glass eye stared straight ahead. The other seemed to swivel, locking directly onto my face.

"Stop pointing that thing at me," I demanded.

Mason tilted his head. "She likes you."

"It's a piece of ceramic."

"Everything here is alive, Ava." Mason stepped closer, gesturing to the sprawling hedge. "Even the roses. They grow from people."

I took a step back. "Excuse me?"

"The soil." He kicked a clump of dark dirt. "It feeds on what we bury. The old Luna planted the first seeds. Now, they bloom for the ones who never came back."

He closed the distance between us. I tried to retreat, but my spine hit the thorny bushes.

Mason reached out. His cold fingertips grazed my cheek. He smelled like attic dust and old lace.

"You aren't dead yet," he whispered, examining my face like a rare insect pinned to a board.

"I plan to keep it that way."

"But you will be someday." Mason smiled. A completely hollow, terrifyingly sweet curve of his lips. "That's why I keep them."

He held the cracked doll up to my eye level.

"They don't die," he explained. "They don't leave. They just stay forever."

"I'm not a doll, Mason."

"Not yet." He grabbed my uninjured right hand. His grip was iron. "Come on. I want to show you her garden."

"Let go of me!" I yanked my arm, but he dragged me effortlessly into the towering black maze.

The thorns didn't shift or attack him. They parted like obedient servants, clearing a direct path to the far edge of the estate.

We spilled out of the labyrinth onto a barren patch of earth. No grass. No flowers. Just three jagged slabs of black marble jutting from the frost-covered ground.

The family graveyard.

Mason dragged me to the center stone. He finally released my hand and dropped to his knees.

I rubbed my knuckles, reading the carved letters.

*ELARA BLACKWOOD.*

*BELOVED, FORGOTTEN.*

"Who puts 'forgotten' on a tombstone?" I asked, staring at the brutal inscription.

"Our father," Mason answered. He set the porcelain doll gently at the base of the marble block.

"Why?"

"Because she chose the moon over us." Mason traced the letters with a filthy fingernail. "That's what he told us. She ran into the woods and never came back."

"I'm sorry," I offered, unsure of what else to say to a volatile werewolf.

"I waited by the front door." Mason didn't look at me. "Every single day. For a whole year. I sat on the rug until my legs went numb."

"You were a kid."

"Do you know what I learned, Ava?"

He stood up. The sweet, hollow smile was gone. Tears spilled over his lower lashes, tracking through the dirt on his cheeks. He laughed, a broken, jagged sound that scraped against my eardrums.

"Only the people you keep are the ones who don't leave," Mason stated.

He lunged forward.

Both of his hands clamped onto my shoulders. His fingers dug painfully into my collarbones. He shoved me backward until my calves hit the cold marble of his mother's grave.

"Let me keep you," he begged, his voice cracking.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck. His hot breath washed over my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I braced for the agonizing pierce of teeth. I waited for him to claim his piece of the map, just like Kade and Leo.

The bite never came.

Above us, the thick morning clouds finally broke. A beam of pale, daytime moonlight sliced through the gray sky.

The silver light hit my face.

*SNAP.*

The metallic tether buried deep inside my ribs violently vibrated. It wasn't a forced rhythm like Kade's. It wasn't a cold numbing pressure like Leo's.

This was a massive, seismic shockwave erupting directly from my own blood.

My chest heaved. I gasped for air, but my lungs wouldn't expand.

Mason jerked his head up.

His chest collided with mine. A shock of static electricity arched between our shirts.

*Thump-thump.*

My heart hammered against my sternum.

*Thump-thump.*

Mason's chest echoed the exact same rhythm.

He didn't bite me. He didn't even break my skin. The moon simply reached down and touched me.

"What did you do?" Mason stammered.

He stumbled backward, dropping his hands from my shoulders as if my shirt had caught fire.

"I didn't do anything!" I yelled, clutching my chest.

The resonance hummed louder, vibrating through my veins. It felt like a locked door inside my DNA was being violently kicked open.

Mason's pupils dilated until his eyes were entirely black. He stared at my chest, tracking the impossible, synchronized drumming.

"What is that?" his voice trembled.

I stared down at my trembling hands. The veins under my skin glowed with a faint, terrifying silver tint.

I didn't have an answer for him. But the journal's vanishing words flashed through my mind.

*Anchor Bloodline.*

Tomorrow was the true full moon. The Pack would run. The brothers would hunt.

And whatever monster was currently waking up inside my blood was preparing to answer their call.

A low, guttural growl echoed from the edge of the graveyard.

I whipped my head toward the sound.

Silas stepped out of the black thorns. His red eyes locked onto me, burning with a lethal, unhinged fury.

And he was staring directly at the silver glow pulsing in my veins.

The bond refused to sleep. And it refused to let me close my eyes.

I stared at the ceiling of my heavily barred room. A low, vibrating hum buzzed beneath my skin. It felt like a physical wire, anchored dead center in my chest, stretching out through the cold walls.

"Quiet," I commanded the empty air.

The wire only hummed louder. It pulled in six different directions. Six pairs of unseen eyes, watching me from the dark corners of Blackwood Manor. Ever since the sunlight hit me in the graveyard, the connection had snapped fully awake.

"What are you going to do to me tomorrow?" I asked the shadows.

No answer. Just the terrifying, frantic energy of the impending full moon.

I threw the blankets off. Sitting still felt like waiting for an execution. I slipped out of bed, cracked my door open, and listened. Silence. The brothers were either asleep or out hunting.

I crept down the hallway, my bare feet silent on the wood, and headed straight for Griffin’s office.

The heavy oak door was unlocked. I pushed it open and shut it behind me. Moonlight spilled through the massive arched windows, illuminating a metal file box sitting squarely on his desk.

"You track everything, Griffin," I muttered, popping the unlatched lid. "Let's see what you keep off the spreadsheet."

I flipped through thick manila folders. Financials. Territory maps. Then, a black folder caught my eye.

*Elara Blackwood.*

"The forgotten Luna," I read aloud, pulling the file free.

I flipped the cover open. A yellowed photograph slid out and fluttered to the carpet. I knelt, picking it up by the edges.

Two young women grinned back at me. They stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing at whoever held the camera.

My chest seized. My throat instantly closed up.

"Mom?" I choked out.

I traced the laughing face on the right. I had never seen my mother smile like that. In my memories, she was always exhausted, always looking over her shoulder. Here, she looked radiant. Alive.

I grabbed the heavy desk chair and pulled myself up. I needed more. I dug into the folder and pulled out a folded piece of stationery.

"A letter," I whispered, unfolding the crisp paper. The handwriting was elegant, sharp, and frantic.

I read the words out loud, needing to hear them to believe they were real.

"They want the Anchor Bloodline," I read, my voice trembling in the quiet room. "They think it died with you. I pray it really did. Because once they find out it is alive, they will burn the entire world to get it."

The paper slipped from my hands. It hit the desk with a soft slap.

"Anchor Bloodline," I repeated.

The glowing red words from my father's dissolving journal flashed in my mind. It was me. It always lived inside me.

"He didn't owe them a debt," I said to the empty room. "He wasn't paying off a gambling loss. He was paying them to look the other way."

A bucket of ice water dumped straight down my spine. I gripped the edge of the mahogany desk to keep my knees from buckling. I wasn't collateral. I wasn't a hostage. I was the exact lock core this entire twisted Pack was going crazy trying to claim.

"You figured it out."

I spun around, knocking a pen cup off the desk. It clattered against the floorboards.

Kade stood in the doorway. He wore no shirt. Water dripped from his dark hair, trailing down his chest and soaking into the waistband of his sweatpants. His eyes weren't their usual cold whiskey color. Tonight, they glowed a piercing, unnatural gold.

"How long have you been standing there?" I demanded, pressing my back against the wood.

"Long enough," Kade answered. He stepped into the office.

"Who is she?" I pointed a shaking finger at the photograph.

Kade's glowing eyes flicked to the picture, then to Elara's name on the folder, and finally settled on my face. The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"Answer me, Kade," I pushed.

"She and your mother were pack sisters," he stated, his voice devoid of its usual sharp edge. "Sworn family. Not blood."

"And she was the Luna here."

"Briefly."

"Why did she die?" I asked, my voice rising. "Mason said she ran away. He said she chose the moon over her own kids."

Kade closed the distance between us in three long strides. I tried to slide away along the desk, but he planted his hands on the wood on either side of my hips, trapping me.

"Mason lives in a fantasy," Kade said, staring down at me. "She did not run away. She died to protect the very thing this Pack will take at any cost."

"Me," I challenged, refusing to look away from his golden stare. "You want the Anchor Bloodline."

"We need it," he corrected.

"What does the Anchor even do?" I demanded, my fingernails digging into the desk.

"It binds," Kade answered. "It grounds the madness. Without it, the wolves tear each other apart."

"So I'm supposed to fix your broken family? I am not a battery for your pack."

For the first time since I arrived at Blackwood Manor, Kade didn't sneer. He didn't issue a cold command.

He lifted his right hand. His thumb brushed against the side of my neck. He traced the swollen, scarred Mating Mark he had forced onto my skin in the clearing.

I flinched, but he didn't press hard. The touch was agonizingly gentle.

"Tomorrow the moon rises," Kade murmured, his thumb smoothing over my pulse point. "When it hits its peak, you will feel things you cannot understand."

"I already feel it," I argued, my heart hammering against my ribs. "It feels like a wire pulling me apart."

"It will get worse," he warned. "You will feel things you cannot control. The pack will hunt. The bond will demand an answer."

"I won't let it change me." I grabbed his wrist, trying to pry his hand away from my neck. "I will lock my door. I will hide."

His fingers curled, cupping the side of my jaw. He held my face firmly, forcing me to look directly into his glowing eyes.

"Do not fight it, Ava," Kade ordered.

"I fight everything in this house," I shot back.

"Not this." His voice dropped to a low, desperate rumble. "Fighting the moon is exactly what killed Elara. If you resist the Anchor tomorrow night, it will tear you apart from the inside out."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Give in, Ava," he murmured, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "Just yield."

He dropped his hand. The sudden absence of his touch left my skin burning.

Kade took a step back. He didn't say another word. He turned on his heel and walked out of the office, disappearing into the dark corridor.

I stood alone by the desk. I looked down at my trembling fingertips.

The low hum beneath my skin spiked. It vibrated against my bones, growing louder and more frantic by the second. Tomorrow was rushing at me like a massive tidal wave. I could hear the roar of the water approaching.

And I had a terrifying premonition.

When that wave finally crashed over us, Blackwood Manor would never be the same again.