The street ahead split at an intersection. I rounded the corner just in time to see a little boy-couldn’t have been more than seven-stranded in the middle of the road.
He stood frozen, a crumpled soccer ball by his foot-staring wide-eyed at the delivery van barreling toward him.
The driver was honking and swerving, but it was too fast-too close.
Without thinking, I ran.
My sneakers pounded the pavement, bag forgotten somewhere on the curb. The world narrowed to the sound of my breath and the boy’s wide, terrified eyes-dark, just like
Daniel’s.
Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move faster, and I did, letting the spike of adrenaline overrun the fear.
I reached him just as the van skidded.
Arms around his tiny torso, I twisted, hauling him to the side. I didn’t have time to gauge the momentum-I just reacted, pivoting on instinct to shield his body with mine.
We hit the ground hard, my shoulder taking the brunt of the fall as I curled around him.
The van missed us by inches. I heard the tires screech again, the frantic slam of brakes.
Then a second noise-heavier, faster, nearer.
A flash of movement above me.
Someone else had leapt between us and the van.
The impact didn’t come from the vehicle but from a body, broad and solid, planting itself like a barrier. The van clipped him on the arm as he pivoted, using his body to shield mine.
Kieran.
He hit the ground beside me with a low grunt, grimacing in pain.
For a moment, none of us moved.
The boy sobbed against my chest, limbs trembling. I was breathing so hard it hurt.
Then I heard Kieran curse under his breath. “Shit. That arm’s going to bruise like hell.”
I looked at him, still cradling the boy, too stunned to speak. His chest was rising fast, jaw clenched, the sleeve of his jacket torn and darkened with blood.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snapped, eyes blazing as he sat up, wincing.
I blinked. “What-?”
“You don’t have a wolf!” he spat. “What if that van hit you? What if you broke something?
What were you thinking, throwing yourself out like that?”
I pulled the boy tighter, shielding him from Kieran’s raised voice. “I was thinking he was going to die if I didn’t do anything.”
“There are other people, Sera!” he thundered.
“Where?!” I snapped, glancing around the now-empty street. “Where the fuck are they?”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to play hero every damn time. You’re not indestructible”
“And you are?” I shot back, gesturing to his bleeding arm. “You didn’t hesitate either.”
His expression twisted, like the words physically offended him.
“I am an Alpha,” he growled, his eyes flashing. “I have a wolf. You don’t.”
“I have training.”
“Oh yeah?” He scoffed. “They train you to run into fucking vans at OTS?”
“No,” I clapped back, “it seems that pleasure is only reserved for training in NightFang.”
“Ben!” a shrill voice echoed down the street.
“Mommy,” the boy sobbed.
I slowly rose to my feet, helping the boy up with me. “Go,” I said gently, nudging him toward the sidewalk where a woman-his mother, from the way she was crying and sprinting-was running over. “Go on, hon. You’re fine.”
The boy bolted. I watched until he was in her arms, wrapped tight as she sobbed and kissed his hair over and over again. Relief bloomed in my chest.
Then I turned back to Kieran.
He was standing now, arm cradled against his side, his expression caught between fury and disbelief.
“You really think this is about training?” he asked, voice low.
“Yes,” I said, rising too. “OTS has taught me how to assess risk, how to move under pressure, how to protect people. I knew I could reach him. I trusted myself.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “That van would have pancaked you two if I hadn’t gotten here in time. So maybe you reached him, but you better tell Maya to open the curriculum on getting out of the fucking way afterward.”
Anger, hot and sharp, raced through me. “Fuck you.”
He arched a brow. “Is that how the kids are doing gratitude these days?”
I rolled my eyes. “What are you even doing here?”
My gaze darted to the parked black car, and I scoffed. “Of course.”
“Why were you fucking walking?” he snapped. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you went for a walk?”
My eyes widened mockingly. “Why? What happened last time I went for a walk?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Ditto.”
I walked past him, crossing the empty street. When he didn’t follow me, I turned and glared pointedly at his arm.
“You coming or are you content to bleed all over the curb?”
He finally looked down at his arm. “Shit,” he muttered again, wincing as he pulled his sleeve back.
“It’s a ten-minute walk,” I muttered, leaning down to grab my bag, wincing when my bruised shoulder protested. “Come on.”
Kieran was blissfully quiet as we walked back to my house, but I could feel the anger and indignation oozing off him as sure as I could feel the warmth of the sun.
Whatever.
I unlocked the door and walked inside, not looking back to watch him cross the threshold.
“Sit,” I said, pointing to one of the chairs in the foyer.
I was upstairs and back down with a first aid kit in less than five minutes.
“Let me see,” I said, crouching down before Kieran.
He hesitated, then held still as I gently peeled back the fabric.
The scrape was bad but not deep. Already bruising. “I need to clean this and bandage it.”
“I’ll live,” he said. “Wolf healing, remember?”
I shot him a glare. “Good for you,” I said as I tugged out an antiseptic wipe and dabbed gently at the scrape.
He hissed, recoiling slightly, and I snorted. “What’s the matter, big bad Alpha?”
He glared and said nothing.
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