CHAPTER 1

The rain in Echo Point didn't taste like water. Today, it tasted like licorice and disappointment, a slick, viscous drizzle that coated the windshield of my beat-up Jeep and refused to be wiped away.

I parked in front of The Rusty Spoon, the only diner in town that hadn’t partially phased into the fourth dimension yet. The neon sign buzzed with a sound that was less like electricity and more like a dying hornet.

"Welcome to the Blur," I muttered to myself, killing the engine. My inner wolf, a jagged, anxious creature that hated confinement, paced restlessly in my chest. She didn't like this place. The gravity felt wrong here, lighter in some spots, crushing in others. It was a town where shadows sometimes detached from their owners and walked away.

Perfect place for a Solo like me.

I checked the dossier on the passenger seat one last time. *Objective: Locate and neutralize the Source of the Phase-Shift. Client: Anonymous. Payout: Enough to keep me in whiskey and kibble for a year.*

I shoved the paper into my leather jacket and stepped out. The air smelled of ozone and burnt sugar. I kept my head down, boots crunching on gravel that felt suspiciously soft, like sponge cake, and pushed through the diner door.

I stopped dead.

The diner was empty, save for a waitress who was currently floating three inches off the ground while polishing a glass, and a man sitting in the back booth.

He didn't float. He didn't look like he belonged in a town where the laws of physics were merely suggestions. He was an anchor of infuriating perfection in a sea of chaos.

Silas Thorne.

He wore a charcoal suit that cost more than my car, tailored to hide the lethal density of the muscle beneath. His dark hair was swept back, not a strand out of place, and he was cutting a slice of cherry pie with the precision of a surgeon.

"You've got to be kidding me," I groaned.

Silas didn't look up. "You’re late, Vane. I expected you twenty minutes ago."

"And I expected you to be filing paperwork in some high-rise, Thorne. Did the High Pack run out of forms to stamp?"

I slid into the booth opposite him. The vinyl squeaked. My wolf bristled, her hackles raising not in fear, but in a strange, aggressive agitation. It was always like this with Silas. Every time we crossed paths on a job, the air between us got hot, pressurized, like a storm trapped in a bottle.

"This isn't a standard retrieval," Silas said, finally lifting his gaze. His eyes were the color of cold steel, sharp and assessing. "The anomaly here is critical. The Blur is expanding. If it isn't contained, Echo Point falls off the map. Literally."

"Which is why I'm here," I said, leaning back and putting my boots up on the seat next to him. I knew he hated bad manners. "I fix the weird stuff. You guys just arrest it."

"I am here to ensure the job is done correctly," Silas said, eyeing my muddy boots with disdain. "Your methods are... messy."

"My methods work. Unlike your 'Handbook for Good Little Wolves'."

Silas set his fork down. The metallic *clink* echoed too loudly in the quiet diner. "Let's make this interesting, then. Since you’re so confident."

I raised an eyebrow. "A wager?"

"Winner takes the bounty," Silas said smoothly. "And the loser leaves the territory. Permanently. No more poaching my contracts, Vane."

I felt a grin stretch across my face—the sharp, dangerous kind. "And if I win? You go back to the city and tell the High Alpha that a 'defective' Solo outran his best enforcer."

Silas’s jaw tightened. I’d hit a nerve. Good. "Deal."

"Deal."

We stared at each other. The lights in the diner flickered. The coffee in Silas’s mug suddenly started boiling, though there was no heat source. The waitress dropped her glass; it shattered, but the sound played backward, a sucking *crunch* instead of a crash.

"Weird," I muttered, rubbing my chest where my heart was hammering a frantic rhythm.

"Indeed," Silas said, watching me with an expression I couldn't read. "May the best wolf win."

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