Stacy leaped toward the window and onto the sill. He was less than two feet away. Too affected by the impact to move, he simply gaped at her.

“I’d also prefer you not to bleed to death on my carpet, motherfucker.” Stacy plunged her knife into his neck.

She heard footsteps behind her and whirled to find Kiera entering the room. Stacy was breathing hard, body coated in sweat. Somehow, Kiera wasn’t. The only evidence of her involvement in the fight was the blood coating her blades and clothing.

“You got the alpha? Good,” she remarked.

Commotion from outside distracted Stacy from responding. “We should help them.”

Kiera nodded. “I’m going to the roof. You can go out on foot.”

With that, Swiftshadow vanished into darkness.

Stacy spied the back door and the pandemonium, which seemed to have moved to the back of the estate. She ran toward it, knives gleaming in the moonlight that streamed through her hallway. I’m coming, Rowan.

More werewolves poured through the gate.

“Fucking hell,” Kiera muttered into the wind as she emerged on the roof and crouched low in the shadows. She evened her breathing, her heartrate a steady pace. A whole pack had come in before. This must be the leftovers. Five of the beasts prowled through the gate, searching for those they wished to feast upon.

Yes, she thought. Leftovers. I’ll take what I can get.

She extended her hand, and shadows rippled around it. She tensed with the strain of using such magic as she turned the shadows into something solid and sharp. The length of it was smooth, and she notched the arrow into a bow also made of shadows. She aimed at the grounds below, intent on not allowing the five newcomers to reach the back of the estate where Rowan and Miles were fighting those who had pursued them.

This is what you hired me to do, Rowan, she thought as she let her first arrow fly.

A wolf yelped as the arrow made contact in the center of his chest. She loosed another. This one stuck into the side of another wolf’s neck. A third hit one above the knee. The fourth missed, but her fifth hit dead center in the same one she’d injured in the knee. Two wolves remained. One managed to escape toward the back of the estate. Shit. Nothing Miles and Rowan couldn’t handle, though.

Kiera released a sixth. The wolf went down. The shadows folded and ebbed around her. Voices in the wind whispered to her, and Kiera realized the grounds were alive with more than Miles’ magic calling nature to their aid.

Rowan had summoned the guardian spirits. She frowned. Spirits could be such pesky things.

Kiera moved toward the other side of the roof, notching a seventh arrow, intent on hitting the wolf who’d gotten away. The shadows welcomed her into a cold embrace, exactly as she liked it. Almost finished, she thought.

Stacy emerged into the gardens to find them awash in silvery moonlight. Gone were the sprites, probably hiding from the chaos. Stacy didn’t blame them, especially since she spotted another garden gnome, much larger than the first, leaping from the top of a fountain toward one of the werewolves. The creature swung its fists, and the wolf responded with a bellowing snarl.

Stacy surged forward, her rage freshly kindled, and blasted the wolf with her magic. The wolf howled at the force and staggered into a wall of thorns Miles had raised. The blast of magic had backed the wolf off, but Stacy had also hit the gnome.

She winced as it shattered. For a heartbeat, she wondered if she had killed an ally, but how was that possible? It was a fucking gnome! Even so, a sudden piercing guilt filled her chest.

Then, to her amazement, the garden statue reanimated, slowly forming into what it had been a moment ago. It turned to her, scowling with flaming red cheeks. It seemed not only angered but embarrassed. Should I apologize to it? Stacy wondered, but the gnome hopped farther into the garden, following the sounds of struggle.

All around her, Miles had raised natural mayhem to fend off the wolves. Stacy spotted two more, the only ones left. Rowan engaged one, his sword flashing in the moonlight. The wolf evaded his strikes, coming at the dryad with long, gleaming claws.

Stacy was at Rowan’s side in seconds, golden eyes flashing. She dipped into her well of magic and allowed it to surge through her skin, meeting the sigils that glowed along her blade. She twisted the knife and plunged, hitting the wolf in his heart. If he had one.

Rowan spun, striking another across the throat. The beast fell with a heavy thud. Stacy panted. Rowan seemed less winded, though he was coated in wolf blood. He met her eyes, his glowing green in the darkness. “That gnome you shattered…”

Stacy winced. “I didn’t mean to.”

“He won’t be happy. He came back from an extended holiday to help us sort this shit out.”

“He’s a gnome, Rowan. I didn’t realize⁠—”

“He’s one of several guardian spirits on the estate, who happens to enjoy a gnome form for whatever reason.”

“Several?” Stacy asked in a smaller voice.

Rowan nodded. “You’ve yet to meet them because many of them are prickly, ancient, and enjoy their alone time.”

Stacy glanced at her blood-coated blade. “I think that one will want a lot more alone time after what I did tonight.”

Rowan’s lips tugged into a smile as he gestured at their surroundings. “The spirits need some excitement from time to time. You’ve given them something to gossip about for a few weeks.”

The howling wind had died down, and the trees returned to their normal stillness. Miles approached them, looking agitated. “Damn gnome got in my way. Almost broke him. I had the wolf handled!”

Stacy was about to voice her agreement when Rowan shot her a look, then gestured for the pair to follow him inside. “We should talk about what happened and what to do next. We should find Kiera, too.”

Stacy groaned when she remembered the state of her home. A fresh wave of fury came over her. I will make Victor pay for this, she promised, and the dragon part of her magic simmered in response.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kiera was the last to come into the house. She appeared from the shadows as Rowan, Miles, and Stacy stood in the front hall, looking around and noting the damage. Rowan’s face was a mask of pale, white fury. Stacy had been in this home for a few weeks and was angered at the state it was in now. She couldn’t imagine how Rowan, who’d been here for decades, felt.

Stacy turned to Kiera and Miles to ask if they were all right despite knowing she was the least experienced. “No injuries to speak of,” Kiera replied. “Though I would love to get this wolf blood off me.” She wrinkled her nose. In the heat of the fight, Stacy hadn’t paid much attention to the odor of wolf blood. She did now. It was on her list of things she hated smelling.

Rowan gestured for Miles to follow him, his face still grim. “We should reinforce the estate’s defenses and see what we can do to repair the gate.” His green eyes went to Stacy last, his voice lowering, almost breaking. “I’m sorry this happened. I will find a way to restore the previous defenses and build better ones for the future.”

“Don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. I don’t think anyone could have. Victor would have come after me regardless.” Stacy’s hands bunched into fists as she mentioned the billionaire businessman.

Rowan opened his mouth as if to object, then thought better of it. Miles squeezed the dryad’s shoulder with a broad hand. “Come on, bud. Let’s fix them damn wards.”

Kiera had already slipped away, and Stacy heard the distant running of water coming from upstairs. She wanted a shower, too. She watched Rowan and Miles leave, deciding she would ask Rowan about the wards later. She wanted the longest hot shower of her life. But first, she turned to observe the state of her home.

Her heart nearly broke at the sight. Debris littered the hallway. Doorframes had splintered, and several framed photos and paintings had fallen from the walls, glass broken everywhere. Her anger simmered. Fucking werewolves. Would she ever be done fighting them?

Her business registration tasks would need to take a back seat while she repaired her home. She clutched the locket around her neck that belonged to Catherine Thorn and whispered as if her mother could hear. “I’m sorry. I should have defended the home better.” She remembered what she’d said to Rowan and repeated the words to herself. This isn’t your fault.

Still, she couldn’t fight off the pressing sensation of guilt. She left her shattered hallway behind and climbed to the second floor. At least nothing up here had been touched. She sought her bathroom and turned on a stream of hot water. She didn’t want to think about how many werewolf corpses were bleeding out on the grounds.

After she was under the water and scrubbing the blood, grime, and dirt from her skin, she started to plan. I will find a way to make Victor pay for what he’s done. The billionaire had to run out of werewolf packs eventually, right? As steam filled the shower, she muttered, “He’s going to regret ever sending them here.”

Victor turned from the windows as the door to his office opened, and a figure stumbled in. He glared for a few reasons. One, it was the middle of the night, and he expected to be left alone. Two, normally, when people wanted an audience with him, they fucking knocked instead of hurtling into his office. Three, the werewolf was bleeding all over his damn carpet.