The old house was quiet except for the ticking clock on the mantel and the low hum of the ceiling fan overhead. The windows were cracked open to let just a hint of air pass through, thick with pine and the chill of approaching winter. Shadows stretched long across the floor, and the flickering fireplace cast a dull amber wash over everything, like the whole damn place was holding its breath.

  I sat on the armrest of the recliner, foot tapping a nervous rhythm against the floorboards. Clara stood near the front window, arms crossed, chewing the inside of her cheek like she was trying not to say something she’d regret. Wayland was pacing, slow, deliberate strides. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans, the same ones he wore many times on hunts.

  I had just told them about Frank, but kept the details pretty vague since I didn’t know all the specifics myself. I couldn’t let Frank realize we suspected anything, so I didn’t unload it on them until now.

  Clara broke the silence first, eyes never leaving the driveway. “How long’s he been using again?”

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Don’t know… hopefully just days, maybe. Maybe longer. He hid it well… I had suspicions… things he’d do, things he said over the phone. He was very vague… not like himself. I only found out because Sam told me.”

  Wayland stopped pacing. “Sam saw him use it?”

  I nodded. “He didn’t know what it was, but he knew it did something to Frank. He said Frank came to him and asked for his help. He said he wanted to ‘hurt some people.’ He went after Clive.”

  That name dropped in the room like a dead weight. Neither acknowledged the name instantly, but after a few seconds, it stuck.

  Clara turned sharply. “Clive? That Clive? The one who nearly…”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “That big bastard came back to town. He’s still breathing, though. He brought two others with him.”

  “Two others… like him?” Wayland asked.

  “As far as I know… yeah. Jane told me about the incident, wondered if Sam was doing things, and I might know about it. She said he has two others running around with him now,” I explained my quick conversation with Jane Talbot. “She didn’t even suspect it could be Frank. I don’t think she knows much about Hunter’s Breath, so she might not even think Frank could pull off what he did. Not directly.”

  “So, he went to Sam… not us…” Clara couldn’t believe it.

  “Frank didn't want us for backup… didn’t even tell us. Just went to Sam… popped a stalk of the Breath, then tore into him. He had Sam there to take care of the others… keep them off him while he did it.”

  Clara let out a shaky breath and backed away from the window, arms tightening around herself. “Fuck… what was he thinking?”

  “It’s all about Jane…,” I said bitterly. “He knew Clive was back in town, and he had to make a statement. That maybe if he could take Clive down, he’d prove something to Jane.” I was only speaking my suspicions, nothing I had actually heard.

  “Like Jane cares about that asshole anymore,” Clara huffed with exasperation. “Why would he think that?”

  Wayland ran a hand through his hair. “That drug messes with your head. We all remember what it did. The comedowns, the hallucinations, the way you stop caring about how far you’re pushing your body. Frank’s stronger than most, but… he’s not immune.” Wayland shook his head. “Couple that with Frank, Clive, and Jane’s history… It’s not hard to see how he landed here.”

  I stood up, pacing now myself. “That assumes he was using before Clive came back… but I’m not sure about that,” I voiced my opinion. “He told Sam not to tell us. Swore him to secrecy; he was ashamed. I’m hoping it was a one-time thing. But Sam…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “He told me what he saw… what Frank did. It’s serious, and we need to step in before it becomes something more. Before the feeling… that addiction grips his mind.”

  Wayland’s jaw clenched. “That’s how it starts. The high convinces you you’re in control. Then it slips into you… becomes everything to you until you think you can’t live without it.” Wayland remembered his own, shorter experience with it, shaking his head.

  Clara looked between us, voice low. “I hope he’s not hooked?”

  I didn’t answer right away. I stared at the dented wall where a picture frame had fallen years ago during one of my worst nights… back when I was using. Eleanor had tried to convince me that I didn’t need it, and I had to stop. I punched the wall so hard that I left a permanent mark and broke four bones in my hand. That was me at my lowest… right before Allen was born.

  We’d all danced with that demon. Hunter’s Breath made you feel like a god on hunts. Made your pain disappear, made the monsters smaller by closing the distance between us mortals and their level. But it always came back with interest.

  Finally, I said, “He’s hiding it. That’s enough to make me think he knows he’s slipping and doesn’t have an end in sight. And the way Sam described him… I’m scared it won’t end with that night. If Clive comes back at him… it’ll be a frenzy that drives him deeper into the addiction.”

  Clara rubbed her arms like the memory of it was cold. “Frank’s never been doubtful of Jane, not since they’ve been back together. There has to be a reason he thinks Clive is a threat.”

  Wayland’s voice turned bitter. “Yeah, well… jealousy’s a reason. Doubt’s a reason; resentment, unacknowledged rage… pick your poison.”

  We all knew what he meant. Frank had been the last to let go of Hunter’s Breath, and when he did, he didn’t have anyone close to hang onto. Not like I had with Eleanor, or Clara and Wayland had with each other. His recovery was a venture in solitude. Now that he had Jane, I hoped she would join in with his resolve to stay away from it… But it seemed like that was not the case.

  Clara moved to the coffee table and sat down, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to do if he’s using again. We just finished everything with Peter…” She shook her head as she ran her hands through her hair.

  Wayland comforted her by rubbing her back in quiet support.

  I walked over, leaning on the back of the chair across from her. “That’s why we talk to him tonight. No yelling, no accusations, just the truth about what we know happened. He needs to know we see him. That we’re not gonna let him vanish into this again… that none of us want that burden again.”

  Wayland crossed his arms, nodding grimly. “And if he doesn’t want to listen?”

  “Then we make him,” I said, meeting his eyes. “We burn all the stock. We wipe out any of the grow farms we have to take it all away.”

  Clara looked surprised, “Is that a good idea?”

  We all knew why we kept the plants growing. Just in case a threat came that allowed us time to prepare enough to use in a single strategic maneuver. It was never the first option, or the last. It was when the world was ending, and we had time to harvest and refine. We almost agreed when we were facing Peter. However, the fact that he couldn’t be killed made us realize that enhanced physical strength would do us no good. It was a resource that we kept alive for unusual circumstances, but were never to touch. It was a temptation we kept around, like a smoker who quit but always kept that one in their car or purse.

  “We have Sam now. He kind of makes the plant obsolete when he’s around. If it were to help Frank get clean again… fuck it. Burn it all,” I said. “Then… we tell Jane and bring her into this. I know that’s probably the last person he wants to find out… even more so than us.” I spoke my thoughts out loud. “He’ll be devastated if she thinks he is struggling with something like this, behind her back.”

  An engine snarled outside, too loud and too fast for the quiet stretch of land we lived on. That was Frank.

  His truck roared onto the curved driveway like it had something to prove, tires crunching the gravel as it zipped along the pavement. He swung the thing wide, then killed the engine in one motion. He parked his rust-eaten rat rod beside the garage, frame rattling as it settled. I barely had time to exchange a glance with Wayland before the side door near the kitchen creaked open and then slammed shut.

  Boots thudded inside. Then the man himself appeared; broad-shouldered, sweaty under his jacket, scuffed and dirt-streaked like he’d been wrestling trees or something worse. His jaw was set tight. One fist was bandaged, and his pupils were still a little too sharp.

  He scanned the room in one sweep. Clara by the table, Wayland stiff near the mantle, and me standing square in the living room with arms folded, waiting. His eyes lingered on me just a half-second too long.

  He knew something was up… that we were here to talk… bout him. He could see it in our eyes and our body language. It was all of us against him, and he recognized it.

  “Hell of a welcoming party,” Frank muttered, kicking off his boots without asking. He kept his tone light, but his posture was tense… ready.

  “Didn’t realize we had a problem until recently,” I said evenly. “Didn’t realize you were off in the woods getting high and beating the shit out of monsters without telling your own fuckin’ family.” The words slipped out of my mouth with a little too much anger.

  Frank’s smirk cracked. He straightened. “I don’t know what you're talking about…”

  “Enough,” Clara snapped. “Don’t play dumb. We know you used Hunter’s Breath, Frank. You went after Clive and two others with him on your own. What were you thinking?” Her tone was more level and controlled, like a mother disciplining her kid.

  His jaw flexed. Then, knowing he was caught, he tried not to take it seriously. “Technically, I wasn't alone.”

  “No,” I cut in, voice trembling with unbidden emotion. “You involved Sam. Sam… of all people! Are you trying to escalate things?” My voice was rising in volume. “Are you trying to make all of this worse? You know as well as we all do, he’s still an unknown! We don’t know what he’s tied to, and you lump him in with your bullshit.”

  I tried to redirect my words. This wasn't about Sam… no matter how much of a mystery his backer still was.

  “I think that your ego couldn’t stand the fact that Clive is back. You hid it from us… and made a choice that now affects us all. You went behind our backs and harvested the plant. You swore you’d never touch that shit again… just as we all did.”

  “Swore the same thing to Jane,” Wayland added, tone dark.

  Wayland's words caught me off guard. I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Maybe something that Frank had told Wayland at some point after he and Jane had gotten back together. He hadn’t told me.

  Frank’s expression cracked for just a second. A flicker of guilt, pain, something real. “She doesn’t know, and she doesn’t need to know.”

  The room went still. We could all feel the moment we got dead center in this quick confrontation.

  I said, stepping closer, “So she doesn’t know. You’re hiding this from her, too?”

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  Frank’s hand clenched at his side, shaking once. “She doesn’t need to know. It was one time.”

  Wayland scoffed. “That’s how it starts. You told me that, remember? When I was spiraling? You were trying to stop me from what you were actively going through… remember?” Wayland’s rare emotions slipped through.

  Clara’s voice was barely a whisper. “Why, Frank? Why now?” Her muscular frame was slumped in anguish, fearing what Frank might do if we couldn’t convince him to stop. The memories of her own struggles were plain on her face. “Jane’s not leaving you for that dumb, blockhead. Why would you think that?”

  He didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to the floor, then lifted back to us like he was daring himself to say it out loud.

  “Because Clive came back,” Frank said. “And he didn’t come for nothing.”

  I blinked, “What?”

  Frank’s voice dropped low and serious. “He came to me. Not in a fight… calm… like he owned the air we breathed… totally in control. He told me how it was going to be. Told me he’s building something. A pack… not just a few more werebears he’s met, but werewolves, skinwalkers, other things we haven’t even heard of… who knows what else.” Frank’s hands shook as he spoke. “He said the world’s changing, and monsters like them need to stick together. He’s leading a small group of them in the area, preparing for something.”

  “Jesus…” Clara murmured, backing toward the couch.

  The seriousness in Frank’s voice told us all that it was true. Even when he was using before… Frank couldn’t make shit like this up on the fly and sell it the way he did. This was real.

  “But that’s not why I went after him,” Frank admitted with an uncharacteristically sad look. A look that told me of real disappointment… in himself. Frank’s gaze darkened. “Then he said he wants Jane. Says she belongs at the center of it all; alpha of the Talbot bloodline… strongest werewolf in the region. He wants her at his side. His ‘bride’.”

  Wayland’s fists clenched. “She’d never do that! You know that, man!”

  Frank just shook his head, knowing Wayland was right… But somehow still doubting.

  “He doesn’t even see me as a threat,” Frank said bitterly. “Said I was in the way. That I’m just… what she settled for… a bump in the road.”

  “No wonder you went after him,” I muttered honestly. “But using? That was your solution?”

  “I needed to put him in his place,” Frank said, his voice rising. “Even if it was just for one night… I had to show him he wasn't the most powerful thing in the area. You think I could’ve taken all three of them clean? You think I wanted to? I had to show him he doesn’t get to come back here, make demands, and walk around untouched. That there are other things here that are above him. I didn’t know if I could do it… that’s why I asked Sam there. If I couldn’t take Clive while I used the Breath, I knew Sam wouldn’t let him kill me. He would have mangled that guy to protect me,” Frank openly admitted he could not have walked out of that scuffle.

  “And did it work?” Clara asked quietly.

  Frank’s face twisted. “They left… for now. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know it was me… I cloaked my scent, wore a mask… and having Sam would throw them off anyway. Jane told me he approached her initially, but after we hit them that night… she could sense he had left the area.”

  “But?” I asked.

  “But they’ll be back,” Frank admitted through gritted teeth.

  Silence lingered after that. No one moved. The sun had finally dipped below the trees, casting the room into flickering shadows from the active fireplace. Frank stood in it, shoulders heaving like he’d been carrying this alone for too long.

  I listened to my brother, but I shook my head in disappointment.

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” I asked, truly confused. “Haven’t we been through everything together? Haven't you been right here beside us when our world was falling apart… with El… with Allen, Bartley, and Zeke?” I was truly confused.

  Frank only waited about four seconds before belting out, “I WAS EMBARASSED, OKAY!” He took a moment before speaking again to calm himself. “I didn’t want any of you to see me like that. I was scared!” Frank admitted. “I was scared that…” he trailed off for a moment before continuing. “I was scared that… Jane would leave me.”

  We were all silent for a few minutes. None of us truly knew what to say. This was Frank at his most vulnerable. Something we never got to see.

  I could see it on Frank’s face. He was living in a world of stress built by his own creation; he just couldn’t see it. It didn’t matter what Clive said or did; Jane would never leave him again. She loved Frank more than he realized. It was his fear that was blinding him. Then he made a stupid decision by going back to Hunter’s Breath, manipulated by Clive, and not even realizing it.

  From what I remembered about Clive in our younger years, he appeared as a brute, a hulking mountain of muscle masked in the simple-minded nature of a bear. However, he was quiet… a watcher. I saw him manipulate behind the scenes as no one suspected him. We were young, and it was all tied to the immaturity of that youth, but it was there. My father told me what Jane’s dad had told him: that Clive got deep into the pack with multiple girls when we were younger. He played them against each other while he searched for the strongest, creating all kinds of strife that had to be dealt with on a pack level. This was years before Jane’s curse took hold, so when they got together, it was all ancient history. But he was the same… Dad made comments about him here and there when he was around back then; he said he was just the same, ‘a lone wanderer out for no one but himself.’

  “I’m sorry we are coming at you like this, Frank, but I need to know this is over. I can’t spend the time fighting you and the addiction when we have something else potentially on the table,” I said a little harshly.

  It garnered all three of their attention. They all stared at me, Wayland and Clara even more startled looking than Frank.

  “Sam told me something recently… and I need to bring it out more into the open.”

  Frank looked immediately clear-minded. “What is it?” He could sense my seriousness.

  I spoke slowly, carefully. “You’ve all seen Autumn recently, right?” I gauged their reactions, not knowing how much they knew about the split in the connection between her and Sam. They didn’t look too in the know. “Autumn told Sam that she didn’t want to be near him like she had been up to this point.”

  “What?” Clara said with shock. Her reaction told me that she understood how deeply Autumn had cared for Sam.

  “Autumn said that? That she doesn’t want to be with him anymore?” Frank asked.

  I nodded. “Something happened… something after he killed Peter. They spoke… about what exactly, I'm not sure. But one day… Patrick Wicklow started coming over. He’s been over a lot…” I said it without actually having to say it. They understood, but their eyes were wide, knowing that that didn’t make any sense.

  “Patrick?” Clara was aghast. “No! That’s not possible. We’ve spoken about him. She’s told me what she thinks about him… what she feels about…” Clara cut herself off before she said Sam’s name.

  It didn’t matter. UI already knew that Autumn had a very dangerous and close relationship with Sam. I wasn’t blind. But she knew that it was a hard reality that I had been facing… seeing your only daughter getting so close to something so… monstrous, yet so humane. His existence was hard to wrap my head around. So, it was hard to see Autumn tied so closely to that.

  “I know,” I said. “It was a shock to me when Patrick started coming around. I knew something had happened, but she won't talk about it. El’s tried to ask, but she’s very evasive. I didn’t really know for certain until Sam came by… when we first spoke about you,” I said, looking at Frank. “When he came by to talk, he knew that Patrick was inside with Autumn. He said that she… needed space from him. That she told him she wanted to distance herself from him. I could tell there was more that he wasn’t saying, but… you know Sam. He wasn't really an open book.”

  There was a brief moment of silence as I tried to redirect myself. Wayland beat me to it.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?” Wayland picked it up quickly, per usual.

  I nodded, slowly. “Sam told me something. You know how he gets the visions right?” I asked them all.

  They all nodded, and Wayland said, “Just what you all have told us, and the few sparse things we’ve heard from him.”

  “Well… when he got sent the vision for Peter Grimwood, when he finally came for him to put him down for good… he saw something. He saw Peter inside Autumn’s dorm room. He watched Peter kill her roommate.”

  I stopped there… waiting for the inevitable reaction.

  “Peter killed her?” Clara asked with a blank face.

  They were all connecting that dot to the shit we had been dealing with. There was a small police interview with Autumn about her roommate. She had gone missing, and the last place she was known to be was inside her dorm. She had been video chatting with her boyfriend the night Peter killed her. The police came to talk to Autumn to see what she knew, or if she could be tied to it. Thankfully, we avoided any trouble that could have brought her into a legal battle, because her cellphone records put her in locations away from the college on the night she went missing. It was a mystery to us at the time.

  “Yeah. Sam saw it all play out. But he didn’t kill her for nothing. Sam says that he saw Peter kill her brutally, not quickly like he stole the life from Bartley or Zeke, but painfully. He murdered her in cold blood, and then… he took something of Autumn’s. A hairbrush… he thinks that… that maybe Peter did something to it… to her. But then, he saw Patrick in the vision. He saw Peter meeting with Patrick and speaking to him. He gave Patrick the hairbrush.”

  I could almost feel the room drop a couple degrees as the words I spoke hit them. There was a visible reaction, a movement that they all made, like they could stand and walk out of the house to do something about it.

  “We have to…” Frank started, but I cut him off.

  “El’s working on something. She’s speaking with Shelta now. She’s feeling her out, to see if she can look into it to see if Sam is right, and something is wrong with Autumn.” I explained to them, “We’ve been watching them, keeping an eye on her, and it’s weird. She seems so happy. She is just spending time with him… but it reminds me of three years ago, when they were together in the good times, before she got tired of him.”

  “What about Kayla?” Clara asked with confusion.

  “She’s been around, but not much. I’ve asked Autumn what she’s doing, and why she would try to swoop in and get in the way of Kayla and Patrick like this, after they both lost a parent, and seemed to finally find each other…” I shook my head at the memory. “She didn’t care. She said that if Patrick wanted to be with her… she could try and take him.”

  Frank and Wayland were obviously aware of how out of character that was for Autumn to act about her cousin. Clara was vocal about it.

  “What the fuck?” She stood from her chair. “Something is wrong with her. She would never just cast Kayla to the side like that.”

  “I know… I know. That’s why Eleanor is looking into this with Shelta. I just needed you all to know what’s going on, so we can be here when it all comes to a head.” I looked at Frank. “All this shit with Clive is important… I know that. Don’t think that I'm trying to downplay the stuff you got going on, but we have to know that you’re going to be okay, so we can figure out what the fuck is going on with Patrick, Autumn, and that fucking hairbrush.”

  Frank centered himself quickly, almost casting off the look he had in his eyes about his personal situation. In a mere moment, he was the Frank I knew; selfless, ready to move, and… my big brother.

  “I’m here… and I'm ready. You don’t have to worry about me… or the plant. It was a stupid move… I know that now. If I had known what was going on, I…” he trailed off, angry with himself.

  “Thank you, Frank,” I cut off his words. “Just… talk to me next time. If you feel the need to do something like that, I want to be the first person to know what you’re going to do. Even if it’s to use the plant,” I said it meaning I wanted to know if he was struggling with the temptation, not as an approval to keep using.

  We lingered in conversation a while longer, trading fragments, small details Sam had given me, little things Eleanor and I had quietly observed in Autumn since hearing the truth. None of it felt like enough on its own. But together, the picture was starting to form, and it wasn’t one we wanted to look at.

  It was strange how quickly one crisis could bleed into another. We hadn’t even finished grieving the wreckage Peter left behind, hadn’t had a chance to breathe, and now we were already bracing ourselves for something new. Something closer and more personal.

  Peter’s death had offered a fragile sliver of hope that whatever force had twisted him, whatever ancient, corrupting power had taken root in him, would die with him. That maybe, just maybe, we could bury it in the past and leave it there. But hope like that was always a luxury in our world, and we’d long since learned not to expect it to stick. The only good hope I had in the moment was that Frank would leave the Hunter’s Breath behind him once he saw the seriousness of the situation we found ourselves in. That was a complication I didn’t need.

  If Peter had created a vessel for his power and tied it to Autumn somehow… then Autumn’s situation might be something else entirely. The decision to remove Sam from her life might not just be the decision of an emotionally drained young woman who had many strange and terrifying things in her world.

  We didn't speak that fear aloud… not yet. But it hung in the air like smoke, none of us wanting to acknowledge it aloud too much. It was thick, lingering, and impossible to ignore.

  As the night wore on, the house grew quiet around us. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting long shadows that swayed along the walls. We said no more after a while. There was nothing left to say. Only waiting to hear from Eleanor and Shelta… and what came next.

  It was late, not sure what time exactly, but my phone was ringing. I quickly searched in the darkness for my phone until I found it. I gripped it and ripped it from the charger, unable to see the name in the blur of vision my eyes were in.

  “Hello,” I said quickly, hoping it was Shelta with answers. El had left her house earlier after speaking with her about our daughter, and I hoped she had discovered something.

  A strange voice broke through the speaker. It was void of any inflection or emotion. It was just blank words, not the familiar voice.

  “Carter. It’s Sam,” was all he said initially.

  I shot up out of bed, the tiredness in me fading quickly at his announcement.

  “Sam, hey. What’s up… what’s going on?” I asked hurriedly.

  There was no nonsense, no bullshit. He called for a purpose.

  “I need to talk with Martin… he’s not at his bar, and he’s not answering my calls. Can you call him?”

  I felt the urge to help him in any way I could think of. “Sure… that’s not a problem. Let me reach out to him real quick, then I can call you right back.”

  There was just a brief pause before he responded, “Okay.”

  I countered him quickly after that, “Sam… are you okay? You sound different…” I tried to register what it was, or could be. “We’ve been looking into…” I was cut off by the sound of my cell phone dropping the call. No, not dropping, but the call ended by Sam himself.

  I sat there on the side of my bed, staring at the phone. His voice… he seemed so far away, so uncaring. Part of me wondered if it was tied to all this with Autumn, or was it something else? I glanced at the top of my phone to see a lot of notifications that had popped up. I pulled it down and saw a heap of missed calls. They were all from Sam. He had called me nine times before I finally woke up.

  I shook my head, and I called Martin quickly. As the phone rang through the speaker, I could feel Eleanor stirring behind me.

  "What is it, Carter?" she asked through a fog of sleep haze.