Shattered Peace, Stirring Wolf

Heat. Blinding light. A deafening roar that seemed to swallow everything.

One moment I was lying in bed, listening to my bonds discuss my condition, and the next—chaos. The world exploded around me in a haze of smoke and debris. My ears rang painfully as pieces of ceiling collapsed nearby. I tried to move, but my body wouldn't cooperate.

"Hazel!" Someone was screaming my name, but it sounded distant, underwater.

Pain lanced through my side. I glanced down and saw blood soaking through my shirt. The sight made my head swim, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision.

Strong arms lifted me. Through the smoke, I glimpsed Jaxon's face, contorted with rage and fear. His mouth moved, but I couldn't hear his words over the ringing in my ears.

"The baby!" I tried to say, panic surging through me as I remembered our unborn child. My hands fumbled toward my belly.

"Get her out!" That was Rhys, his voice breaking through the fog. Blood streaked down his face from a cut on his forehead. "Jax, move!"

Jaxon ran with me cradled against his chest, navigating through what remained of our apartment. I caught fragmented glimpses—splintered furniture, shattered windows, flames licking at the curtains.

"Lyr!" Rhys shouted. "We need you to heal her, now!"

My vision blurred. Faces swam in and out of focus. Lyra's panicked expression. Silas's glasses cracked, his eyes wide with terror. Ronan pushing people aside to clear a path.

"Stay with us," Jaxon growled in my ear. "Don't you dare fade out."

I wanted to answer, to reassure him that I was fighting, but my mouth wouldn't form the words. The darkness was too inviting, pulling me under like a gentle current.

The last thing I heard was Jaxon's voice, broken and desperate: "Please... not her."

Then nothing.

* * *

I woke to softness. My body felt weightless, like I was floating on a cloud. For several moments, I simply existed in this peaceful state, before the memory of the explosion came crashing back.

My eyes flew open, but everything remained dark.

"Hello?" I called, panic rising in my throat. "Is anyone there?"

"Shhh," a gentle female voice soothed. "You're safe, Hazel. Your sight will return soon."

Cool fingers touched my forehead, and I flinched.

"Who are you?" I demanded, trying to sound strong despite the fear coursing through me.

"I'm Isolde Warner, Rhys's mother." Her voice was calm, steady. "You're in our home. You've been unconscious for about twelve hours."

Rhys's mother? I remembered him mentioning her—a healer with four bonds of her own.

"The baby?" I whispered, terrified of the answer.

"Is perfectly fine," she assured me. "I've been monitoring both of you. The little one is quite resilient."

Relief flooded through me, so powerful I nearly sobbed. "My bonds—are they—?"

"All safe," Isolde said. "Some minor injuries, nothing serious. They've been taking turns sitting with you."

I sensed movement nearby, then footsteps approaching rapidly.

"She's awake?" A familiar voice—Rhys.

"Yes, just now," his mother confirmed.

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. Multiple sets of footsteps, the creak of the door, whispered exclamations. I turned my head toward the sounds, frustrated by my temporary blindness.

"Hazel." Silas's voice was close, his hand finding mine and squeezing gently. "Thank God."

"Can't see," I managed to say, my voice raspy.

"That's normal," Isolde explained. "The blast temporarily affected your optic nerves. Your healing abilities are repairing the damage as we speak."

As if on cue, the darkness began to recede, shapes and shadows gradually taking form. I blinked rapidly, and the world slowly came into focus. I was in an enormous bedroom, lying in a four-poster bed draped with rich burgundy fabric. Golden morning light streamed through tall windows.

And surrounding me were the concerned faces of my bonds.

Rhys sat on the edge of the bed, his blue eyes rimmed with red as though he'd been crying. Silas stood beside him, his glasses repaired but a healing cut visible on his cheek. Ronan hovered nearby, his expression a mixture of relief and lingering worry.

And Jaxon—my fierce, terrifying Jaxon—paced at the foot of the bed like a caged animal, his dark gaze fixated on me as though I might disappear if he looked away.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice stronger now.

They exchanged glances.

"Someone tried to kill you," Jaxon said bluntly, stopping his pacing. "They blew up our fucking apartment."

I struggled to sit up, and immediately four pairs of hands moved to help me. Once upright, I noticed I was wearing an unfamiliar silk nightgown.

"How?" I asked. "Who?"

"We don't know for certain," Silas answered, pushing his glasses up. "But we have theories."

"Magnus," I guessed.

Rhys nodded grimly. "Most likely. The explosion was caused by a bomb planted in the air vent of your bedroom. Whoever did it knew exactly where you slept."

"A Grey did this?" I asked, horrified at the thought of someone like us causing such destruction.

"Not directly," Ronan spoke up. "They used a human. Someone who was compelled."

The implications sank in slowly. "You mean, like mind control? Someone made a human plant a bomb in our home?"

"Yes," Silas confirmed, his expression grim. "The human was found wandering nearby, completely disoriented. He had no memory of what he'd done."

"That's..." I trailed off, unable to find words for how violated I felt.

"That's why we brought you here," Rhys said, gesturing around the grand bedroom. "My family's estate has security measures against that kind of intrusion. Ancient wards, magical protections. You'll be safe here."

I took a deep breath, trying to process everything. "And everyone else from the building? Were there any...casualties?"

"No," Silas assured me quickly. "The explosion was contained to our apartment. Lyra helped evacuate everyone else as a precaution."

Relief washed over me. At least no innocent people had been hurt in this attack meant for me.

"The timing was deliberate," Jaxon spoke up, his voice hard. "They waited until after you bonded with Silas. They're watching us, tracking your bond progression."

A chill ran down my spine. "Why would they care about my bonds?"

"Because each bond makes you stronger," Isolde explained, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "And clearly, someone sees you as a threat."

My mind raced with questions, but before I could voice them, the bedroom door opened. Everyone turned as Kaelen Vance strode in, looking as immaculate as always in a charcoal suit despite the circumstances.

"Miss Thorne," he said formally. "I'm relieved to see you awake."

The moment I heard his voice, something strange happened inside me. My heart skipped erratically, and my wolf—that primal part of me I was still getting used to—whined loudly in my head. Not with fear or pain, but with something like...longing? Recognition?

I stared at him, confused by my own reaction. Our eyes met across the room, and for a fraction of a second, I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze—something raw and unguarded. But it vanished so quickly I might have imagined it.

What was happening to me? Why did my wolf react so strongly to his mere presence, especially now, in this moment of crisis?