Mag-log inThe howls went on long enough for my bones to learn them. They rolled through Grimfang land in waves, rising from different places in the trees until I could almost picture the pack by sound alone. North border, western slope and somewhere near the creek. Voice answering voice, grief and fury threaded together, the forest carrying it all like a warning.
No one in the infirmary looked surprised by the noise. Evan lay unconscious on the exam bed, his skin damp with fever, one hand curlFor a moment, the hallway seemed to narrow around the word. Veterinarian. She was not a hunter, an elder or hidden wolf in some fortified compound. She was a vet.My hand tightened around the folder until the papers bent. I looked down at the scan again. Avery Hart a veterinary surgeon at Ravensmere Wildlife and Domestic Care.My eyes snagged on the license number, the clinic address, the date of registration. The details were painfully ordinary. The kind of thing I would have glanced over without interest in another life.“She’s alive,” I said.My voice sounded too small. James’s jaw flexed. “We don’t know that.”Bailey flinched. Mara glanced at him sharply. James did not soften the words, but his eyes moved to mine with something like apology. “We know someone with the right trail existed recently. We know she used Evelyn Hart’s surname. We know she’s the right age range and profession. That’s all.”The right age range. I looke
“Then we find her first.” Colton’s words settled over the porch like frost. No one answered immediately. A woman who had spent her entire life as a secret, if she was still alive. A daughter born of wolf and hunter blood. Colton’s half sister, Gideon’s child and Grace’s lie. And now, apparently, the centre of an old debt that had woken with a vengence. The bracelet lay in its square of worn cloth, small enough to fit in my palm. Faded blue thread, frayed with age. One tarnished silver bead threaded at the centre. Colton’s gaze stayed fixed on it. “You kept it,” he said. Gideon’s face was turned toward the trees. “Yes.” “Why?” The old Alpha’s jaw tightened. “Because grief makes fools sentimental.” Grace had come back to the lodge doorway at some point. Of course she had. Guards, exhaustion, and co
“Your daughter lived.”The words did not echo, they should have. In a clearing ringed by wet pines and silent wolves, in a place where every breath seemed held beneath the low grey sky, words like that should have bounced off timber walls and stone paths and come back changed.Instead, they sank. Straight into Gideon Blake. The old Alpha did not move. His cane stayed planted in the earth. His shoulders remained squared. His cold blue eyes stayed fixed on Colton’s face.But something in him broke. I saw it before he hid it. A flicker, a fracture, a flash of such naked grief that my own breath caught as if I had stumbled upon something private and wounded in the woods. Then it was gone.“What did you say?” Gideon asked again.Colton’s jaw flexed. “You heard me.”Gideon took one step forward. The clearing reacted instantly. James moved from near the lodge doors, Sophia turned sharply and Ben stopped halfway down the path from the in
The howls went on long enough for my bones to learn them. They rolled through Grimfang land in waves, rising from different places in the trees until I could almost picture the pack by sound alone. North border, western slope and somewhere near the creek. Voice answering voice, grief and fury threaded together, the forest carrying it all like a warning.No one in the infirmary looked surprised by the noise. Evan lay unconscious on the exam bed, his skin damp with fever, one hand curled against his chest as if still holding the strip of my cardigan. Mara had pried it loose gently after he passed out. It sat now sealed in plastic on the steel counter, purple fabric smeared with dirt and blood, the silver nail beside it in a separate tin.My cardigan and my scent. I stared at it until Mara snapped her fingers in front of my face.“Nora.”I blinked. “Sorry.”“Don’t be sorry. Be present.”Colton sat on the second exam bed because Mara
For one suspended second, all I could see was purple. Not the blood. Not the silver flashing near the young man’s shoulder. Not the way Colton’s face had gone empty with rage or how Mara was already moving with her medical bag banging against her hip. Purple.A torn strip of my cardigan, clenched in a shaking hand. I had worn it two mornings ago while drinking tea on my porch, barefoot despite the cold, pretending my world had not begun to fill with teeth and secrets. I had hung it over the back of the chair when the kettle whistled.And someone had taken it. Someone had stood close enough to my door to steal something that smelled like me.The clearing tipped sideways. Grace’s hand found my elbow. “Breathe, Nora Jane.” “I am.” “No, you’re not.”A sound left the injured young man, low and broken, and whatever panic had been dragging me under snapped clean in two.He was bleeding. Mara reached him as Ben and E
“Hello, Father.”Two words should not have been able to chill an entire clearing. But they did.The pack went quiet in a way that was different from fear. Older than fear. Habit, or maybe memory. The kind of silence a house kept after too many storms had rattled its windows.Gideon Blake stood at the edge of the path with one hand wrapped around the head of his cane, looking at his son as though Colton were just a disobedent pup.Colton stood in front of me. A wall made of flesh, bone, and warning.Gideon’s cold blue eyes flicked from him to me again. “You look like hell.”Colton’s voice stayed flat. “You came all this way to compliment me?”A few people in the clearing looked down very quickly. Gideon’s mouth moved, almost a smile and not nearly warm enough to be one. “I came because word travels fast when the Alpha brings a human woman into protected land after hunters mark the border.”“She has a name,” Colto
For a moment, no one spoke. The mist moved between the trees like a living thing, pale and thin, slipping around trunks and porch steps and the line of Colton’s shoulders. Somewhere deeper in Grimfang land, a bird called once and went silent. They know where we are. The
“If we’re going to have wolves bleeding in my granddaughter’s kitchen,” Grace said, “I suppose it’s time to stop pretending.”No one moved. Not Bailey, still damp and clutching her baseball bat like she had been born with it. Not James, who stood near the window with the kind of stillnes
Trap! For one suspended second, no one in my kitchen moved. Grace’s voice came through the phone small and steady, but there was something beneath it I had never heard from her before. Not fear exactly. Grace had always treated fear like an unwelcome guest she might offer tea to be
“I came because you left the porch light on.” For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. The kitchen was too warm. Too small and ordinary for what had just been laid bare between us. The kettle sat cooling on the stove. My mug of tea steamed weakly between my hands, untouched,







