Page 73 of Echoes From the Void

I sit up fully, the sheet pooling at my waist. Leo’s eyes darken, hunger of a different sort flickering in their depths. Behind me, Matteo stiffens, his possessive energy pulsing through our bond.

The air thickens with possibility, shadows dancing between us.

“Hey now,” Leo protests, though his voice has gone rough. He reaches for the breakfast tray, movements deliberately casual. “I didn’t slave over a hot stove just for these pancakes to get cold while you two get distracted.”

I snag a piece of bacon, trying to break the building tension. “Your sisters helped with breakfast, didn’t they?”

“Lucia did the bacon,” he admits without shame, arranging himself beside me with calculated grace. “But I did the pancakes all by myself like a big boy.”

Matteo snorts, his chest rumbling against my back. “Is that why some of them are burnt on one side?”

“They’re not burnt, they’re artistically caramelized.” Leo’s shadows flick playfully at Matteo’s.

The normalcy of it all hits like a physical blow—sharing breakfast in bed with my mates, trading lazy touches and teasing words, feeling genuinely safe. Everything I never dared want, laid out before me like an offering.

Leo’s expression softens as he reads my mood through our bond. “Hey,” he says quietly, reaching to brush my cheek with shadow-warmed fingers. “You’re allowed to have this, Firefly. The burnt pancakes, the lazy mornings, all of it.”

“They’re not burnt,” Matteo mimics, but his shadows wrap around us both protectively.

We settle into a comfortable rhythm, passing coffee and sharing bites of food. Everything feels perfect, peaceful, until?—

The window explodes inward.

Glass shards rain across the bed as Matteo moves with inhuman speed, rolling me beneath him. Leo launches to hisfeet, shadows rising in defensive waves. But what crashes through isn’t Valerie or her corrupted children.

It’s Leo’s father.

My shadow wolves howl a warning inside my mind as wrong essence floods the room. His shadows don’t flow naturally—they writhe and twist with sickly purple veins, moving like puppet strings pulled by unseen hands. The corruption pulses through him in nauseating waves.

“Dad?” Leo’s voice cracks, his shadows faltering for one crucial moment.

That hesitation is all it takes.

Corrupted shadows lash out, wrapping around Leo’s throat. Matteo’s rage floods our bond as he launches himself forward, but more twisted essence erupts from Leo’s father, slamming him against the wall.

“The Martinez line.” The voice that emerges isn’t human. It resonates with void energy that makes my teeth ache. “Such power. Such potential.”

“Pretty sure that’s what restraining orders are for,” Leo wheezes, still trying to joke even as the corrupted shadows constrict.

I reach for my power, but something’s wrong. The room’s shadows aren’t responding properly—they’re being pulled, twisted, corrupted by whatever entity wears Leo’s father’s skin.

Footsteps thunder up the stairs—Leo’s sisters, drawn by the chaos.

“Stay back!” Real fear enters Leo’s voice, not for himself, but for them.

His father’s head jerks at an unnatural angle, purple essence pulsing stronger. “The youngest ones,” that wrong voice purrs. “Their power is still pure. Untainted. Perfect for?—”

The door bursts open.

“Lyra, Liliana—RUN!” Leo’s command carries shadow-power, but his father’s laughter—that terrible, void-touched sound—cuts through it.

I roll off the bed, yanking Matteo’s shirt over my head as my shadow wolves materialize. Through our bond, I feel Matteo break free from the corrupted essence holding him, his fangs lengthening with rage.

Leo’s sisters’ screams echo from the hallway until Luna’s voice rises above the chaos—sharp and precise even now. “Barrier formation! Just like Mom taught us!”

The sickly shadows around Leo’s father pulse brighter. “Your mother,” that twisted voice says, each word dripping corruption, “always thought she could protect you. Always thought her little tricks would be enough.”

Leo breaks free with a snarl, his shadows striking fast and hard—but they pass right through his father’s form like smoke. The realization hits me as my wolves’ teeth find nothing solid to grip.

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