Chapter 24 Traitor #2
“Lucky and skilled are two different things.” He moved closer, and I fought the urge to shift away. “Taking down that many corrupted wolves alone? That's impressive. Most humans wouldn't have survived.”
“I'm not most humans anymore,” I said carefully.
“No. You're really not.” His eyes tracked to the token still visible in my hand, and something flickered in his expression too fast to read. “Nature-warlock bloodline, right? Gideon mentioned it. Must be strange, learning you've got magic running through your veins.”
“Strange is one word for it.”
“Well, if you ever need someone to practice with, someone who understands what it's like to not quite fit the normal pack mold—” He smiled again, all helpful concern. “I'm around.”
“Thanks,” I said, even though every instinct screamed not to trust him. “I'll keep that in mind.”
Rafe nodded, raised his coffee in casual salute, and left. The bell chimed behind him, and slowly the café felt like it could breathe again.
“Okay,” Nate said quietly. “That was deeply creepy.”
“Yeah.”
“We should tell Daniel—”
“We will. But right now, I just want to have coffee with my son and pretend the world isn't actively trying to kill us.” I forced a smile. “Tell me about the renovation. How's the house coming?”
Nate launched into a description of drywall disasters and Evan's surprisingly good carpentry skills, and I let myself relax into the normalcy of it.
Let myself have this moment of father and son sharing coffee and conversation, of warmth and laughter and the kind of ordinary that felt precious because I knew how quickly it could be taken away.
Martha refilled our coffee without being asked. The café hummed with small-town comfort, locals greeting each other, tourists planning their day. Outside, frost painted patterns on windows that might have been ward marks or might have been just ice.
It was perfect.
Which should have been my first warning that something was about to go catastrophically wrong.
Daniel and Evan got the call just after lunch—one of the younger wolves injured during patrol, needed immediate attention. They'd left in a rush of authority and concern, Daniel pressing a quick kiss to my forehead and telling me to stay at the pack house where it was safe.
I'd agreed because arguing with an Alpha in crisis mode was pointless.
Nate had come with me, unwilling to go back to the renovation house alone, and we'd settled in the common area with Gideon's research journal.
Gideon had left it with instructions to study ward patterns, to start learning the geometry that would let me control moon magic instead of just surviving it.
“This is impossible,” Nate said, staring at a page covered in symbols that looked like they were moving. “How is anyone supposed to memorize this?”
“You don't memorize it. You feel it.” I traced one of the ward marks, felt power pulse under my fingertips. “It's like music. Once you understand the rhythm, the individual notes make sense.”
“That's the worst explanation I've ever heard.”
“Yeah, well, I'm making this up as I go.”
He grinned, started to respond, then froze. His head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring, and I saw his eyes shift—human to wolf and back in a blink. “Dad. Something's wrong.”
I felt it too. Pressure building in the air, cold creeping in despite the heating, and the token in my pocket suddenly burning hot enough to make me gasp.
The lights flickered.
“Nate—”
The temperature dropped twenty degrees in seconds. Our breath came out in visible puffs, and frost spread across the windows with unnatural speed. Through the glass I saw shadows moving in the tree line, too many to count, pouring toward the pack house with deliberate intent.
“We need to leave,” I said. “Now.”
We bolted for the front door, but it slammed shut before we reached it. Not from wind. From corruption magic thick enough to taste, forcing wards to bend and break under pressure that shouldn't exist.
The back door crashed open.
Corrupted wolves poured through in a wave of wrong movement and empty eyes. Too many. Too coordinated. Moving with military precision that spoke of someone directing them from outside.
I grabbed Nate's arm, pulled him toward the stairs, but more corrupted wolves blocked that exit. We were surrounded, trapped in the common area with death closing in from all sides.
“Dad!” Nate's hands lit up with green druid light, wild and uncontrolled. “What do we—”
A corrupted wolf lunged. Nate threw power at it, sent it flying backward into the wall where it dissolved into shadow and rot. But there were too many, and his magic was too new, too raw to hold them all back.
I reached for my own power, tried to summon the ward burst that had saved me in the clearing.
Silver-green light flickered at my fingertips, weak and stuttering, because I didn't know how to wield it yet.
Didn't understand the cost or the control or how to make magic answer when terror made my hands shake.
The corrupted wolves circled closer, and I knew—knew with terrible certainty—that we weren't getting out of this.
Then Rafe stepped into the common area, perfectly calm despite the chaos, and his smile shifted.
Went from pleasant to predatory in a heartbeat.
“Finally,” he said quietly. “I was wondering how long I'd have to wait.”
“You. You brought them here.” I growled at him.
“Of course I did.” He moved toward us with liquid grace, corrupted wolves parting around him like smoke.
“Did you really think that the attacks were random? That you surviving was luck?” His laugh was sharp, bitter.
“Silas doesn't leave loose ends, Michael. And you were supposed to die in that clearing.”
“Why? What does Silas want?”
“Everything.” Rafe's eyes tracked to Nate, and his expression went cold with purpose. “The forest's chosen. The druid who shouldn't exist. Silas has been searching for someone like him for decades, and you just handed him over by bringing him here.”
“No—”
I threw myself between Rafe and Nate, channeling every ounce of desperate fury into the token.
Rafe caught it. Just absorbed the magic like it was water and he was parched, drew it into himself and smiled wider.
“Blood magic,” he said conversationally. “Silas taught me how to feed on nature craft. Your power just makes me stronger, Michael. Did you really think a newly awakened warlock could stand against decades of training?”
He backhanded me with enough force to send me flying into the wall. I felt ribs crack, felt my already-damaged leg buckle, and went down in a tangle of pain and failing magic.
Through blurred vision I saw Nate throw everything he had at Rafe—green light so bright it hurt to look at, druid magic pulled straight from the forest's heart. But Rafe had wards, corruption magic woven so deep it turned Nate's own power against him.
“Impressive,” Rafe said, catching Nate by the throat. “But not enough. Not nearly enough.”
“Let him go!” I tried to stand, couldn't make my body obey. “Please—take me—”
“Can't do that. Silas wants the druid specifically.” Rafe's hand tightened, and smoke rose where corruption magic burned through Nate's skin. “You were just convenient bait to make sure he came here willingly.”
“Dad—” Nate's voice came out strangled, terrified. “Run—get help—”
“I'm not leaving you—”
Rafe moved toward the back door where corrupted wolves waited, Nate struggling weakly in his grip. And as the pleasant mask finally fell away completely, I saw rage there. Old and burning. Someone who'd been playing a part so long he'd almost forgotten what real emotions felt like.
“Tell Daniel,” Rafe said quietly, “that if he wants the boy back, he'll come to the Moon Clearing at moonrise.”
Shadows erupted around him, corruption magic thick enough to choke on. I lunged forward, ignoring broken ribs and shattered leg, trying to reach Nate before—
Rafe's foot caught me in the chest. Air rushed from my lungs, and I went down hard. By the time I could breathe again, they were gone.
Nate. The corrupted wolves. Rafe.
All of it dissolved into smoke and rot-stench, leaving nothing behind but blood on the floor and my son's terrified scream still echoing in my ears.
I lay there trying to make my body work, trying to stand despite injuries that should have kept me down. The pack house was silent now, corrupted wolves retreating the same way they'd come.