Page 120 of Shifters Reckoning

Me for her.

Cheap at the price, but I’d have paid it a thousand times.

Come on, Cold Moon. We’re ready. All of us.

Race ya, love.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

emma

Six-Mile

Beneath the Cold Moon

The night of the end of the world came up white, frost on every blade of grass like the earth had been salted.

The Cold Moon confrontation was imminent. Under it, I’d build a dome and prepare for an end. Acheron’s or mine. But that was hours off yet. First, I had rounds to make.

I grabbed my phone from the office and left the manor.

I’d spent months learning how to feel every shifter in Six-Mile as a frequency, a thread of the universe. Whatever happened with Acheron, I was going to know exactly who and what I was fighting for, down to the last squirrel arguing with the last raccoon over the last strip of bacon. Name by name.

I began with Olivia. She would have never forgiven me if I had started with anyone else.

She was upright against her pillows, braced chest and all, with a map of Acheron’s camp spread over her knees and a tight expression on her face.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Fucking Logan,” I quipped. “What else?”

She snorted. “We don’t have time for that.”

“Yeah, maybe, but we like doing it. Have you ever tried it? Maybe with Jasper.”

She blanched. “What?”

“You’ve got a good relationship with Jasper. Maybe you two should make it official.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she snapped.

“Yeah, well, I’m the multimorph, so maybe it is my business.”

“You cannot use that for anything and everything,” she growled.

I put my hands on my hips. “Watch me.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Sit,” she said. “You’ve got a duel in a few hours, and you’re going in as blind as Marcus. I didn’t get my chest opened up dragging intel out of that place to have you waste it.”

I took a seat beside her recovery bed. “Fine, but promise me that you’ll take Jasper seriously. Maybe you two are fated.”

“We’ll talk about it after you beat Acheron.”

“Good. Tell me about him.”

Logan’s loyal beta gripped my hand. “He’s old,” she said, “and he believes he’s foretold a win, so he’s gotten lazy. He telegraphs. Watch his left hand. When he’s about to throw balefire, the left comes up half a beat before the right.” She traced a line on the map. “He fights like he’s already won.”

“Because in his head, he has. He’s seen the ending. He showed it to Logan. He’s been rehearsing it for years.”