ISLA'S POV
"Hello, little sister. I think it's time we had a family reunion."
Celeste's voice through Maya's phone makes my blood turn to ice.
"Where is she?" I demand, my hand gripping the phone so hard it might crack. "If you hurt her—"
"Relax. Your precious human friend is fine. For now." I hear shuffling, then Maya's voice, muffled and scared: "Grey, don't come! It's a trap—" A slap. Maya cries out.
Rage floods through me, hot and sharp. My wolf surges forward, wanting to shift, to hunt, to tear Celeste apart.
"I'll kill you," I whisper.
Celeste laughs. "No, you won't. Because if you want to see Maya alive again, you'll come alone. No Rowan. No bodyguards. No police. Just you and me, settling old business."
"Where?"
"The old Grey family house. You remember it, don't you? Where we grew up? Where you learned your place?" Her voice drips with venom. "Midnight. Come alone, or Maya dies. And Isla? If I even smell Rowan's scent nearby, I'll slit her throat before you make it through the door."
The line goes dead.
I stand frozen in my hotel room, phone still pressed to my ear, mind racing. Maya is in danger because of me. Because I came back here. Because I couldn't just stay away.
I should call Rowan. He has resources, pack members, and power. He could—
"If I even smell Rowan's scent nearby, I'll slit her throat."
I can't risk it. Maya took a chance on me when I had nothing. Invested her savings in our firm. Became the sister I never had. I won't let her die because of my past.
I look at the clock: 9:47 PM. Two hours and thirteen minutes until midnight.
I'm going in alone.
The Grey family house sits on the edge of Blackwood Pack territory, exactly where I remember it. A large two-story home that looks perfect from the outside—all neat lawn and fresh paint. Nobody would guess the ugliness that lived inside these walls.
I park three blocks away and approach on foot, keeping to the shadows. My wolf is on high alert, every sense straining. I smell werewolves—at least three, maybe four. Celeste isn't alone.
The front door is unlocked. Of course it is. This is a trap, and Celeste wants me to walk right into it.
I push the door open and step inside.
The house looks the same. Same furniture. Same family photos on the walls—photos that include Celeste and my parents, but never me. Like I was erased from the family history.
"Hello?" I call out.
"Living room," Celeste's voice answers.
I walk through the familiar hallway, each step bringing back memories I've tried to bury. The closet where they locked me during pack runs. The dining room where I ate alone while my family laughed together. The stairs I climbed every night to my attic room, invisible and unwanted.
The living room is lit by a single lamp. Celeste sits in my father's old chair like a queen on a throne. Maya is tied to a chair across from her, gagged, with a bruise blooming on her cheek. Her eyes go wide when she sees me, shaking her head frantically.
Two large werewolves stand behind Maya. Pack members I recognize—Marcus Thorne and David Chen, both loyal to my father.
"You came," Celeste says, smiling. "I wasn't sure you would. Thought maybe you'd gotten too comfortable playing architect in your fancy human world."
"Let her go," I say. "This is between us."
"Oh, it absolutely is." Celeste stands, and I notice she's holding something—a vial of dark red liquid. Wolfsbane. "But your friend makes such good insurance. Sit down, Isla."
I don't move. "I said let her go."
Marcus moves faster than I expect, grabbing my arm and forcing me into a chair. David produces rope, tying my wrists behind my back.
"There," Celeste says pleasantly. "Now we can talk. Like family."
"We're not family," I spit.
"You're right. Family would imply you belong somewhere. But you never did, did you?" Celeste circles me slowly. "The defective Grey daughter. The embarrassment. The one who couldn't shift, couldn't find her place, couldn't do anything right."
Each word is a knife, hitting old scars. But I've had five years to heal. Five years to become someone stronger.
"Is that why you're doing this?" I ask. "Because I left? Because I rejected your precious fiancé?"
Celeste's smile vanishes. "You RUINED everything! Rowan was mine! The Luna position was MINE! My entire future was planned, and then you—you, the worthless wolfless failure—turned out to be his mate!" She's shaking with rage. "Do you know what that did to me? The humiliation? Everyone pitying me because my own sister stole my fiancé?"
"I didn't steal anything. I rejected him, remember? You could have had him."
"He won't even LOOK at me now!" Celeste screams. "Five years, Isla! Five years he's been searching for you like a lovesick puppy! He won't accept anyone else! Won't complete the bond with anyone else! He's useless because of you!"
I suddenly understand. This isn't just about jealousy or revenge. This is about Celeste's broken future. Her lost status. Her damaged pride.
"So what's your plan?" I ask. "Kill me? That won't make Rowan want you."
"No. But it will free him." Celeste holds up the wolfsbane vial. "You're going to reject him again. Properly this time. Completely sever the bond. And then you're going to disappear—back to your human city, back to playing pretend architect. You're going to leave and never come back."
"And if I refuse?"
Celeste nods to Marcus, who pulls out a knife and presses it to Maya's throat. Maya whimpers behind her gag.
"Then your friend dies. And I'll make sure the body is found in such a way that it looks like you did it. Self-defense gone wrong. Tragic accident. Either way, you go to jail and I still win."
My mind races. I need to stall. Need to think. Need to—
The front door explodes inward.
Rowan storms in like a hurricane, his eyes blazing gold, Alpha power rolling off him in waves that make everyone in the room flinch. Behind him are at least ten pack warriors.
"NO!" Celeste shrieks. "I told you to come alone!"
"You really think I'd let her walk into a trap?" Rowan's voice is deadly calm. His eyes find mine across the room. "Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, but my heart is pounding. I didn't call him. How did he—
"Tracking app on your phone," Rowan says, like reading my mind. "I installed it after the shooting. Did you really think I'd let you face danger alone?"
Part of me wants to be angry about the invasion of privacy. The other part is just grateful to still be alive.
Celeste backs away, still holding the wolfsbane. "Stay back! I'll use this! I'll—"
"You'll do nothing." Rowan's Alpha command hits everyone except me. Marcus and David immediately drop to their knees, unable to resist. Even Celeste staggers.
Two warriors cut Maya free while two more untie me. Maya throws herself into my arms, sobbing.
"I'm sorry," she gasps. "I'm so sorry, they grabbed me outside my apartment and I tried to fight but—"
"Shh. It's okay. You're safe now." I hold her tight, relief flooding through me.
Rowan walks toward Celeste, who's now backed against the wall. "Kidnapping. Assault. Threatening murder. That's enough for banishment from every pack territory in the country."
"You can't!" Celeste's voice rises desperately. "I'm the Beta's daughter!"
"Your father was stripped of his Beta position two years ago for his treatment of pack members," Rowan says coldly. "You have no protection, Celeste. And after what you did to Isla five years ago with the wolfsbane, after what you just did tonight, you're done."
He signals to his warriors. "Take her. Lock her up until we can arrange transport."
As they drag Celeste away, she screams at me: "This isn't over! You hear me? You can't just come back and take everything that's mine! I'll make you pay! I'LL MAKE YOU—"
Her voice cuts off as they pull her outside.
The house falls silent except for Maya's quiet crying against my shoulder.
Rowan approaches slowly, carefully, like I'm a wild animal that might bolt. "Isla—"
"How did you know?" I interrupt. "I didn't tell anyone. I was alone in my hotel room."
"The bodyguard outside your door heard you on the phone. Heard the panic in your voice. He called me immediately." Rowan stops a few feet away. "Did you really think I'd let you face this alone?"
"I had to! She said if you came, she'd kill Maya!"
"And you believed her?" Rowan's voice is gentle. "Isla, she was never going to let either of you leave alive. She was going to kill you both and blame it on a break-in or rogues or something. You walking in alone just made her job easier."
The truth of his words hits me. I was so focused on saving Maya that I didn't see the bigger picture. Celeste wanted me dead, and I almost gave her exactly what she wanted.
"I'm an idiot," I whisper.
"You're brave," Rowan corrects. "Stupid, but brave. There's a difference."
Despite everything, I almost smile.
Maya pulls back, wiping her eyes. "Can we please leave this creepy house? It smells like bad memories and psychotic sisters."
"Already arranged," Rowan says. "I'm having both of you moved to pack house guest quarters. Security. Safety. No arguments," he adds when I open my mouth to protest.
He's right. I know he's right. But accepting his help feels like surrendering something I'm not ready to give up.
"Just for tonight," I finally agree.
We walk outside into the cool night air. Pack warriors are everywhere, securing the property, taking statements. It's overwhelming and comforting at the same time.
Rowan walks beside me to his car. "I know you're angry about the tracking app—"
"We'll discuss that later," I interrupt. "After I know Maya's safe. After I can think straight."
He nods and opens the car door for us.
As we drive toward the pack house, I stare out the window at the familiar territory I swore I'd never return to. Everything has gone wrong since I came back. My business was attacked. Someone tried to shoot me. My sister kidnapped my best friend.
But I'm also starting to realize something terrifying: I'm not alone anymore. For the first time in my life, someone is actually fighting for me. Protecting me. Seeing me as worth saving.
And that person is Rowan Blackwood.
The boy who destroyed me is becoming the man who might save me.
I don't know if that's beautiful or tragic.
Maybe it's both.
We pull up to the pack house—a massive building that used to intimidate me. Now it just looks like another cage.
As we're walking inside, Rowan's phone rings. He answers, his expression going dark.
"When?" he demands. "How many?" A pause. "I'll be right there."
He hangs up and looks at me, his face grim.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"That was pack security. They found something at your hotel room." He hesitates. "Someone broke in while you were gone. Trashed the place. And they left a message on your mirror, written in something that looks like blood."
My stomach drops. "What did it say?"
Rowan's eyes meet mine, and I see fear in them—real fear.
"'The sister was just a distraction. The real trap hasn't sprung yet.'"