Page 4 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Maxwell’s face went carefully blank. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Theo, please,” I whispered as he grabbed my wrists. “You can’t lock us up—”
“You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence—” The cuffs clicked shut. Cold metal bit into my skin.
“Not tonight!” Panic clawed up my throat. “The moon—I won’t be able to fight the change!”
“You’re going to have to.”
“Please! Just call Seb!”
His fingers squeezed my arm. I caught the slight tremor in his jaw, the way his eyes flickered to the window where moonlight streamed through. But he kept moving, steering me toward the stairs, before marching us outside. They guided us to two different cars. Through the window, I watched them push Dev’s head down as he ducked into the back seat. The full moon hung above us, impossibly bright, promising violence.
“Please,” I begged Maxwell, one last time, but to no avail. The guy barely even looked at me. Didn’t give a shit what he was doing to me.
My father’s face flashed through my mind—an image of him standing underneath the apple tree near the manor house, regarding me from afar. The very last time I’d seen him alive before the police gunned him down. And here I was, being hauled away by another cop. But this one was supposed to be on my side.
I slumped against the cold leather as Maxwell shut the door. Metal mesh separated me from the front seats. The engine roared to life. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching London blur past. The handcuffs scraped into my wrists, the silver-plated metal making my skin crawl.
Maxwell’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. For a split second, something like guilt flickered across his face. Good. Let him feel guilty. Let him understand exactly what he was doing to me.
My wolf clawed at my insides, howling for release. The shift wasn’t just awant—it was a biological imperative. Like trying to hold your breath underwater. Eventually, your body would force you to surface whether you wanted to or not.
And I had hours to go before moonset. Hours, locked in a cell, fighting with all my might against the shift.
The fluorescent streetlights strobed across my face, each flash making my head pound harder. Every cell in my body screamed for transformation. Even my eyesight kept shifting between human and wolf’s vision, the world alternating between sharp focus and blurred colours.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to concentrate on breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like Kit taught me. But my brother wasn’t here. Wasn’t here to save me this time.
And when he next saw me, he’d probably strangle me to death.
Another wave of moon-fever crashed through me. My spine arched involuntarily, a whimper escaping my throat as the shift rippled under my skin like lightning searching for ground.
Again, Maxwell met my gaze in the mirror, his eyes flicking between me and the officer in the passenger seat. It was only a matter of timebefore they noticed my increasingly violent spasms. I could only pray they presumed I was in drug withdrawal, or something.
This is torture. Pure torture.Torture, and a betrayal that would leave scars deeper than any physical wound. Fighting the shift for an entire night would be like trying to stop my heart from beating through sheer willpower alone. And he knew it. The bastardknewwhat this would do to me.
Fuck you, traitor,I snarled at him in my mind, channelling every bit of my rage into the words.
This was going to be a long, long night.
1
Rory
Present Day
The guide to being a supernatural investigator has exactly one rule about breaking and entering: don’t get caught.
Eighteen months ago, I learned the consequences of that the hard way.
But this time was different. This time I was being super careful. Professional.
At least, that had been the plan. Instead, I was failing spectacularly at rule zero—actually getting through the door.
The lock pick slipped for the hundredth time, and I swore under my breath. If only Issac were still alive, he’d be here to help me, and we’d be inside by now. Instead, my knees ached from crouching, and the hallway’s motion sensor light had clicked off twice, leaving me fumbling in the dark like the world’s worst cat burglar.
“Come on, you stupid thing.” I jiggled the pick again, my tongue sticking out in concentration.
