Page 55 of Wolf of the Storm
I don't have an answer for that.
"No."
CHAPTER 14
DECLAN
"No" isn't an answer Eliza accepts.
She follows me through Clifftop House, her footsteps quick and determined behind mine. Her frustration bleeds through the mate bond—hot and sharp. My own fear answers it, cold and suffocating.
"You can't just say no and walk away," she says, her voice rising. "This isn't a dictatorship, Declan. We're supposed to be partners."
I spin to face her in the hallway outside the bedroom. "Partners don't throw themselves into situations that could kill them without knowing if it'll even work."
"Partners also don't make unilateral decisions about what the other person can and can't do." Her eyes flash with anger. "Three more people are going to die, Declan. Three more families are going to lose someone they love because Connor needs their blood for his ritual. And we have a way to stop it...”
"We have a theory." I run both hands through my hair, trying to contain the wolf that wants to pace, wants to snarl, wants to lock her somewhere safe where Connor and ancient rituals can never reach her. "We don't know if mate-bond storm blood works the same as inherited power. We don't know if thetransformation gave you enough of my bloodline to anchor the counter-ritual. We don't know...”
"We know people are...” Her voice breaks. She presses her fist against her mouth, eyes bright with unshed tears. "We know Connor is hunting three more bloodline carriers right now. We know he's coming for me after that—to kill me at the most powerful convergence point because my death breaks the last seal. So what's your plan, Declan? Lock me in this house and wait for him to murder his way to me? Hide while innocent people die and then face him alone?"
"My plan is to keep you alive." A growl rumbles up from my chest. "That's all that matters to me."
"Well, it's not all that matters to me." She steps closer, chin lifted in that stubborn way I've come to know too well. "I didn't transform into a shifter, didn't join your pack, didn't become your mate just to hide while people die. My aunt spent forty years protecting this island. I can do the same."
"Your aunt is dead." The words land between us like a physical blow. "Murdered by the same bastard who wants to sacrifice you. That's what happens when humans try to fight our battles."
Her hand connects with my cheek before I can stop her—not hard enough to hurt, but sharp enough to sting. The sound echoes in the hallway.
"I'm not human anymore." Her voice drops low and dangerous. "The transformation changed me. Your blood runs in my veins now. Your storm answers when I call it—I felt it during the hunt, felt lightning wanting to strike when Jax attacked me. I'm not some fragile thing that needs protecting. I'm your mate. I'm pack. Strong enough to do this."
The bond carries her certainty to me—absolute conviction that this is the right choice, the only choice. But underneath it, fear. She's terrified. She just hides it better than I do.
"You could die trying this." My voice cracks. "The counter-ritual requires pouring storm magic through your body at a convergence point—a place where reality is already thin. If the storm blood you carry isn't strong enough, if it fails...”
"Then I fail." She takes my hand, pressing it against her chest where her heart hammers. "But at least I tried. At least I did something instead of hiding while Connor murders his way through every bloodline on this island."
Her frustration spikes sharp enough to make me flinch. My fear answers it, the two emotions tangling until I lose track of which feelings are mine and which are hers.
"We're not doing nothing." But even as I say it, the words taste like ash. "We're gathering intelligence, coordinating with the other packs, tracking Connor's movements...”
"We're reacting." She pulls away, pacing now, and I see the journalist in her—the woman who spent a decade chasing dangerous stories, who walked into cartel territory and war zones without flinching. "Connor is three steps ahead because he's been planning this for years. We need to get ahead of him. The counter-ritual is how we do that."
"By risking your life."
"By using the gifts the bond gave me." She stops pacing, turns to face me. "Declan, listen to me. The mate bond didn't just connect us emotionally. It connected us magically. Your storm is my storm now. Your bloodline is my bloodline. That has to mean something. That has to be enough."
"And if it's not?" I close the distance between us in two strides. "If you're standing at a convergence point and the storm doesn't answer? If Connor and his loyalists close in while you're vulnerable and I can't protect you? What then?"
"Then you were right and I was wrong." Her voice softens. "But Declan, what if I'm right? What if this works? We couldsave lives. We could prevent Connor from completing his ritual. We could end this before it gets worse."
I want to argue. Want to command her as her alpha to stand down, to let me handle this, to stay safe behind wards and pack protection. But the mate bond won't let me lie to myself—she's not wrong. Every hour we wait, Connor gets closer to finishing what he started. And when he does, when all seven seals are broken, the Fomori will rise and everyone dies.
Including Eliza. Maybe especially Eliza.
"I can't lose you." The confession tears out of me. "I just found you. I just claimed you. The mate bond is barely settled and you want to throw yourself into danger that could rip you away from me permanently." My voice drops to barely a whisper. "I won't survive that."
She steps close enough that her scent—vanilla and citrus—wraps around me. Her hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with infinite gentleness.
