Slow Shift by Nazarea Andrews (best summer reads of all time txt) 📕

attacks and giant tree sprouting in the forest, the still-weak shaking in his limbs and the man they killed? Nothing strange at all.

She huffs. “Chase, just—we’re hearing a lot of rumors coming from New York, and the Cahil Pack is pissed.”

“Tripp came here a few months ago.  We weren’t very welcoming.”

“You should have told us,” she snaps, furious.

“The alliance doesn’t cover inner-pack problems, Liss,” Chase says gently, “And the Cahils are only a problem because of our Alpha.”

“They could destroy you. Chase, they—their Pack is over a hundred strong, and half of those are born wolves. You have five wolves—three with less than six moons under their belt, and a Medusa.”

“Liss,” Chase says, “They have to reach us to do any damage, and right now, my wards are doing their job.”

“For how long?” she demands. Chase doesn’t answer, and she sighs. “Just...be careful. You’re playing with fire, and someone is going to get burned. I don’t want it to be you or your Pack.”

~*~

He’s in the bookstore. He’s only been back at work for a week, and he’s shaking with exhaustion, slumped over a cup of tea, when the door jangles. He doesn't move. They haven’t had a customer for an hour, and whoever is here—he’ll give them time to browse before he approaches.

He hums agreeably to himself.

Then something slams his head down on the wooden counter. His teacup shatters and he feels the glass slicing into his cheek, dangerously close to his eye. He feels claws at his neck and he has a hot moment of panic, when he thinks his wards have failed, because no one outside the Pack should be able to touch him, no one—

“You little shit,” a familiar voice hisses, “This is all your fault.”

Oh.

Oh, he is an idiot.

“Don’t,” he gasps out, and her claws dig in deeper. “Chelsea, don’t.”

She snarls and slams his head against the counter again. Black rushes up to yank him under.

Chapter 27

Tyler frowns at his phone as he listens to Jessica chattering. She’s painting Ezra’s nails again, the sharp chemical scent of it almost familiar in the house now, seeping into the mix of the den the longer she’s here.

“What’s wrong?” Joseph asks, and Tyler glances at him. He’s the quietest of the three, but startlingly observant. It’s not at all surprising that he’s the one to notice that Tyler is anxious.

The sun is setting, his phone is silent, and the driveway is empty.

Jessica and Ezra are quiet, watching them, and Tyler shakes his head. He could be with John. There’s no need to worry, absolutely nothing to be afraid of, not yet.

It’s when Lucas comes home, smelling faintly of police station, paper, and ink, that Tyler feels his heart begin to pound, that insistent worry slamming in his gut.

“Where’s Chase?” Lucas asks.

Tyler feels his fangs drop.

~*~

It’s cold when he wakes up, a slow swim to the surface that hurts, makes him want to sink right back into the depth of black.

He’s propped up in a wooden chair, hands and feet bound with duct tape, chains and a thin wire around him, making no sense until he notices the sharp edge pressing against his skin.

He remembers the glass in his face, the claws at his throat, Chelsea’s voice—

Fuck.

“Chelsea,” he croaks. He looks around but the room is empty, just the chain and the quiet dripping of a leaky faucet in the next room. It makes him need to piss, and he squirms, shivering.

It was stupid to overlook her, but Chelsea had always been content to ignore them, and he’d never considered she’d actually strike against her own Pack. He'd been so sure he could protect them, he’d forgotten to calculate her as a risk.

And now, someone will die. It isn't a question anymore.

“Lucas will kill you for this,” he whispers to the empty room, “I won’t be able to stop him.”

~*~

The next time he finds consciousness, the room is blindingly bright and he wakes screaming, body convulsing in the chair he’s still chained to.

Distantly, he can hear someone talking, but he can’t comprehend anything except the agony searing through him, shaking him apart. His magic is burning in his veins, fighting the pain, but it’s so fucking weak, still exhausted and—

The pain cuts off abruptly and he sags in his bonds, panting.

“I don’t know much about hurting humans,” Chelsea says, and he blinks at her. “But I know witches like electricity. Thought it might hurt, so,” she shrugs, “here we are.”

“Wha—why are you doing this?” Chase grits out.

She snarls and twists the little knob, and he screams as the current rips through him again. His magic surges, a weak wave. It’s echoed distantly, so fucking distantly, that he realizes—he can’t feel the Standing Stones.

For the first time, he feels a sharp stab of true fear.

~*~

He finds the Cahil mutts twelve hours after they realize Chase is missing. He thinks if Tyler had been calm and he'd been able to leave, to hunt, he'd have found them sooner.

But Tyler fell apart when he realized Chase was missing, terror and fury turning him almost feral. The pups had no idea how to deal with that, and Chase wasn't there—the whole problem—so Lucas found himself soothing his brother, calming him and dragging him back to sanity in the dark of Chase’s room, while Tyler shook and shivered.

Tyler had cared for him for so long, had given up their sister to come and care for him, and even with the knowledge that Chase is missing burning in him, he can’t leave Tyler like this.

Chase would never forgive him for it if he did.

Still, the delay grates on him, and he breaks the nose of the first ‘wolf before he even enters the room, snarling as he yanks him around, slams him into the door. He snaps his leg, and the ‘wolf goes to his knees with a bitten off howl before Lucas is pushing him down with a foot at his throat and smiling through a mouthful of fangs. He twists to look at