Page 45 of Barely Breathing

Peter shifts uncomfortably. “Like I said, the Alpha’s been really secretive, but something’s got him scared. Really scared. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s always been ruthless, but this...” He swallows hard, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. “I don’t know. This is different. The other night, I overheard him talking about ancient debts coming due. I’m pretty sure he said something like even the moon herself can’t hold back what’s coming if they don’t complete the ritual.”

The amulet pulses, and I remember how Thane’s hands shook slightly when he reached for it, not from desire or bloodlust but from genuine fear. Whatever is driving this ritual is bigger than werewolf politics or power grabs. Even Draakmar seems unsettled by it.

“Conrad shot Paul and killed him before the amulet erased time. His mortality was affected when the timeline reset,” I say, slowly reasoning what we’re facing. “He remembers both versions of events. That makes him touched by death magic.”

“Draconic magic,” Anthony says, staring at my amulet. “That one is pretty obvious.”

“Thane offered a trade in three nights. Me for Paul.” I touch my necklace, disturbing Anthony’s focus on it.

“So that leaves forgotten magic,” Peter says. “I don’t know who that could be. No one will talk about it.”

The implication hits me like a ton of falling bricks.

“Diana,” I whisper. The amulet’s reaction is immediate. It forcefully vibrates at her name, as if Draakmar reacts to the threat against an innocent child. “They’re going after Paul’s daughter.”

“A child?” Lorelai stands abruptly. “They would sacrifice a child?”

“The full moon is in three nights,” Anthony says. “We don’t have much time.”

“That’s why Thane wanted you to come back. He’s trying to manipulate you to get all three sacrifices together,” Peter says. “You can’t do it. You can’t go.”

“He tried to get me to take off the amulet.” I grip my fist around the stone and think of Thane’s words about choices and Costin’s desperate attempts to keep me away. Had he known? Was he trying to protect me or control me?

“We need to get to Kansas City,” I say, standing. The room spins slightly, exhaustion hitting me hard. “We have to protect Diana. She’s with her grandparents.”

“You need to rest first,” Astrid states firmly. “You’re no good to anyone in this state.”

“I’ll make arrangements,” Anthony offers. “Give me a few hours to set things up safely. Peter can?—”

The elevator dings, interrupting him. We all freeze, looking at each other.

“Are we expecting anyone else?” Lorelai asks.

“No,” Astrid answers, her tone sharp. “We are not.”

“Shit,” Peter whispers, already backing toward the kitchen. “I can’t be seen here.”

Anthony quickly moves to shield his friend’s retreat. “Go. Use the service elevator. I’ll call you later.”

The way Anthony protects Peter reminds me of how much my brother sacrifices to meet family expectations. Being the magical heir means living the life they want, not the one he dreams of. I wish I could make him realize it’s okay to be his true self, but I know the weight of duty too well. His path is not mine to dictate. It’s too bad our parents don’t feel the same way.

Anthony’s expression reminds me of how he looked after he broke up with Louis, that same forced smile hiding real pain. He’s always been toogood at pretending everything’s fine. Since discovering that he had erased Louis’ memories to make his human boyfriend forget their relationship, I worry my brother will never let himself be happy.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft hiss that somehow feels louder than it should. My heart pounds, and I feel Draakmar stir restlessly within the amulet. After the night I’ve had with Costin, after learning about the ritual, I’m not sure I can handle another supernatural crisis.

“Why don’t you have a front door?” Lorelai asks, her hand drifting to the butterfly tattoo on her chest. “In California, I have three locks and protection charms on every entrance. Here, anyone can walk right in.”

“We have magic,” Astrid says with the kind of certainty that comes from centuries of power. Her posture somehow becomes even straighter. “The doors don’t open to those who mean us immediate harm. I had the hallway removed because it was an eyesore. Besides,” her lip curls slightly, “no one would dare attack the Devines in our own home.”

I hear the distinct click of heels before Mabel Freemont emerges from the elevator. Her perfectly coiffed hair and designer suit look out of place this early in the morning, considering where I’d seen her hours before. But her expression of perpetualdisdain is precisely as I remember it. Francis follows. His face is already red with self-importance.

“Lady Astrid.” Mabel’s gaze sweeps the room, lingering judgmentally on Lorelai’s bohemian dress. “How quaint to find you entertaining at this hour.”

I see the calculation in Mabel’s eyes, the same look she had when trying to force me to marry Chester. Now that plan failed, they’re trying a different approach to gain control.

Astrid rises with practiced grace. “Mabel. What an unexpected intrusion.”

Francis comes in behind her and puffs up his chest, visibly dismissing the women and Anthony. “Where is your husband? I want to speak to the man of the house.”

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