Central Park, Sunday, 11:42 a.m.
The first warm day after weeks of rain.
The sky was stupidly blue. Children laughed. Dogs barked.
Leo ran ahead of me on the path, arms out like an airplane, yellow sneakers flashing.
"Mommy, look! Ducks!"
I smiled despite the knot in my stomach.
I had barely slept. All night I kept seeing Ryan on his knees in the rain, pressing that tiny wolf pendant to the glass.
Today I needed normal.
Today I needed my son happy.
I needed to forget ice-blue eyes and broken promises for five minutes.
We reached the ice-cream cart near Bethesda Fountain.
Leo bounced on his toes.
"Chocolate with sprinkles, please!"
I laughed and got in line.
There were six people ahead of me.
I turned my back for thirty seconds to pay.
Thirty seconds.
A black van shot out from the service road (no plates, windows tinted illegal-dark).
Tires screamed.
Leo's happy shout turned into a terrified scream.
"MOMMY!"
I spun.
Two huge men in black hoodies were already on him.
One grabbed Leo around the waist, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.
The second one raised a hand (syringe glinting).
Everything slowed.
My wolf roared awake, claws ripping through my fingertips.
I dropped the ice-cream money and ran.
"LEO!"
People froze, phones coming out.
I slammed into the first rogue shoulder-first, knocking him sideways.
My claws raked across his face (four bloody lines from eye to jaw).
He howled.
The second rogue backhanded me so hard the world flashed white.
I tasted blood, but I didn't fall.
I lunged again, teeth bared, going for his throat.
He blocked, grabbed my hair, slammed my head against the van.
Stars exploded.
Leo was screaming, kicking, biting.
"Mommy! Mommy help!"
The rogue with the syringe raised it toward Leo's neck.
I screamed something inhuman.
Then the air split open.
A black blur hit the rogue holding Leo like a freight train.
The man flew five yards and crashed into a tree, spine snapping on impact.
Ryan.
Human form, but barely.
Eyes fully black, fangs too long, claws out.
He looked like the devil had come to collect.
The second rogue dropped me and pulled a silver knife (long, curved, dripping green poison).
Ryan didn't slow.
He grabbed the man by the throat, lifted him clean off the ground, and crushed his windpipe with one hand.
Bone cracked like dry wood.
The rogue with the ruined face tried to crawl away.
Ryan stepped on his ankle (crunch), then kicked him in the ribs so hard the man folded in half.
Blood sprayed the grass.
People were screaming now, running.
Leo stood frozen beside the open van door, tears streaming.
The last rogue (the one with the syringe) saw he was losing.
He snarled and lunged at Leo with the silver knife.
Time stopped.
I couldn't reach them.
I screamed Ryan's name.
Ryan spun, saw the blade, and threw himself between the knife and our son.
The silver went straight into his chest (right under the collarbone).
Green-black poison spread instantly through his veins.
Ryan roared in agony but didn't stop.
He grabbed the rogue's wrist, twisted until bones shattered, then head-butted him so hard the man's nose exploded.
The rogue dropped, unconscious or dead (I didn't care).
Then silence.
Only Leo's sobs and the distant sound of sirens.
Ryan staggered.
Blood poured black down his white shirt, soaking fast.
He fell to his knees in the grass, one arm wrapped around the knife still buried in his flesh.
Leo ran to him.
"Daddy!"
The word tore out of our son like a prayer.
Ryan's head snapped up at the sound.
He smiled (weak, trembling, covered in blood), but it was the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.
He opened his arms.
Leo crashed into him, burying his face in Ryan's neck, careful not to touch the knife.
I fell beside them, hands shaking, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Ryan, don't you dare close your eyes!"
Silver poisoning.
I could smell it burning him from the inside.
His skin was already gray at the edges.
He looked at me, eyes fading but fierce.
"I told you…" His voice was barely a whisper, wet with blood. "I'd keep him safe."
His hand found Leo's curls, stroked once.
Then his body went limp.
He collapsed sideways into the grass, knife still in his chest, black blood pooling beneath him.
Leo screamed.
"DADDY! Wake up! Daddy please!"
I pressed both hands around the blade, trying to slow the poison.
"Somebody help!" I screamed at the gathering crowd. "Call 911! Now!"
A woman was already on the phone, sobbing.
Leo clung to Ryan's shirt, tears falling on his father's face.
"Daddy don't sleep, you promised you'd stay!"
Ryan's fingers twitched.
With the last of his strength, he lifted his hand and pressed the tiny silver wolf pendant into Leo's palm.
"For you… little wolf," he rasped.
Then his eyes rolled back.
He went still.
"NO!"
My scream ripped the sky open.
I bent over him, pressing my forehead to his, tears mixing with his blood.
"Ryan, stay with me. Please. I'm begging you. Don't leave us again."
Sirens got louder.
Leo was rocking back and forth, clutching the pendant, whispering over and over, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…"
I looked at the black van (doors still open, engine running).
Inside: a phone buzzing on the seat.
I crawled over, grabbed it with bloody fingers.
One new message.
Unknown number:
Did the brat scream pretty?
Tell the Alpha hello from Scarlett.
This is only the beginning.
I crushed the phone in my fist.
My wolf howled so loud the ground shook.
Paramedics swarmed, shouting, pushing me back.
They loaded Ryan onto a stretcher, cutting his shirt, pumping antivenom straight into his heart.
Leo clung to my leg, face buried in my hip.
I watched them wheel Ryan away, tubes and blood and frantic voices.
One paramedic looked at me, eyes grim.
"Silver poisoning this bad… we're losing him."
I looked down at Leo (my brave, broken little boy) holding his father's blood on his hands.
Then I looked at the sky.
And I made a promise to whatever goddess was listening.
Scarlett wanted war?
She just started one.
I knelt, wiped Leo's tears with my thumb, and kissed his forehead.
"Listen to me, baby. Daddy is strong. He's coming back to us."
Leo nodded, trusting me completely.
I stood up, blood on my clothes, murder in my eyes.
Then I took my son's hand and walked toward the ambulance.
This was not the end.
This was the moment the rejected mate became the hunter.
Scarlett had just signed her own death warrant.