Chapter 35
It all happened in a blur. Kaldrek and his strongest packmates shifted, their bodies rippling and reshaping into towering wolves. The transformation was swift and deadly.
He had told her to stay back, to keep hidden. But Evelyne couldn’t obey. She had to see for herself. What kind of visitors would drive the Ironwolf pack to reveal their most dangerous forms?
A charged tension filled the clearing, making her pulse race. Moving carefully, Evelyne slipped behind the nearest tent, keeping low in the shadows as the pack assembled into a wall of snarling wolves.
The energy shifted.
Three men stepped out from the treeline, calm and unhurried. Every movement radiated quiet confidence. They didn’t flinch or pause as they walked straight toward Kaldrek and his fiercest warriors, who met them with bared teeth and lethal intent.
They didn’t show a hint of fear. If anything, they looked bored.
Then one of them laughed, deep and easy, as if the whole scene were some joke.
The sound made Evelyne stiffen. That wasn’t normal.
Any sane man would hesitate under the weight of so many unblinking crimson eyes locked onto them, and would at least recognize the raw power standing between them and death.
But these men? They looked entertained.
The tallest of the three, a man with long golden hair, tilted his head and gave a playful grin. His shoulders were loose, hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. He didn’t look like someone facing danger. He looked like someone who knew he had no reason to be afraid.
A snarl cut through the air, low and menacing, as Holden began to circle them. His massive wolf form moved with a quiet, predatory focus. Claws scraped the earth. Each breath was a warning.
Still, the men didn’t flinch.
Evelyne nervously played with her fingers, fear tangling with curiosity. Who the hell were they, and why had they strolled into a pack of wolves like they were stepping into a tavern? She was supposed to stay hidden and wait, but her mind was already made up.
A few more steps. That was all she needed. Pressing herself against the tent’s fabric, she crept forward, barely daring to breathe. She wanted only a brief look, enough to see their faces and hear what they had to say. She paused. Was speech even possible in their wolf form?
Before she could dwell on the thought, the blond shifted slightly, his head turning as if he sensed her. His smirk curled into something darker—cruel, and curious enough to jolt her.
She had made a mistake.
Kaldrek’s dark eyes locked onto hers, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl as fury radiated from him. She had disobeyed him, and he was livid, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. She’d already been seen.
“Well, well,” the man in the center drawled. “Who is that?”
A surge of fear climbed up her throat, threatening to choke her. But she forced herself to stand tall, lifting her chin to mask the nerves thrumming beneath her skin. The man’s striking hazel eyes gleamed as he studied her.
“I’ve never seen this beauty before.” He stepped closer and inhaled deeply. “And she’s… human.” He paused and turned to look at Kaldrek. “But with a hint of the alpha’s scent. How interesting.” His voice was a purr, smooth and dripping with intrigue.
Evelyne’s cheeks burned as she wondered if he was a wolf too.
How else could he scent her? Damn wolves and their heightened senses.
Now the whole pack would know that Kaldrek had been…
Well, she wasn’t exactly sure what he’d been about to do, but it had come dangerously close to a kiss. Could they scent that, too?
In a flash, the Ironwolf pack shifted back into human form, the women quickly stepping in to drape cloaks over them.
The two men standing beside the blond stranger said nothing, their faces unreadable, but Evelyne barely noticed them.
Her attention was locked on the blond, who was still staring at her, his eyes following the way her damp leathers clung to her curves.
She met his gaze head-on, refusing to look away.
If he was trying to make her squirm, he’d have to do better than that.
His grin curled into something wicked as he turned to Kaldrek. “Come on, now. At least tell me her name before I start begging.”
He was clearly enjoying himself, but Kaldrek wasn’t laughing. Not even close. His black eyes burned with barely restrained fury that she could only guess came right before blood was spilled. Whatever patience he had left was hanging by a thread.
“She’s—” Kaldrek started, voice taut, but Evelyne stepped forward, cutting him off without hesitation.
“I’m Evelyne,” she said, voice smooth and cool.
“And yes, I’m human. However, I find it difficult to understand why I apparently smell like the alpha.
Maybe the rain makes everyone smell like wet dogs.
” She folded her arms across her chest, masking the slight tremble in her fingers, and arched a brow at the stranger. “And you are?”
Her words seethed with intent, testing like a viper ready to strike. She might’ve been nervous, but she’d be damned if she let either of them see it.
The man’s eyes lit up, not with surprise, but with something darker, like her boldness was a gift he hadn’t expected but was more than willing to unwrap. “Evelyne,” he repeated, dragging out the word like it tasted good. “Lovely.”
Kaldrek snapped. “My tent. Now.”
The blond looked at him, clearly unfazed, and Kaldrek’s voice dropped lower.
“Obren.”
So that was his name.
The smug gleam in Obren’s eyes didn’t dim, but he inclined his head slightly, finally tearing his gaze away from Evelyne.
Whatever business they had to discuss was significant enough that Kaldrek would let these men walk freely into his camp.
They wouldn’t have made it this far if they posed an actual threat.
Evelyne said nothing, watching as Kaldrek led them away. Obren was the last to turn, his eyes resting on her for a moment longer before he followed.
***
The rain continued past midday, its steady rhythm drumming against the tents and pooling in muddy patches across the camp.
The world outside was soaked and gray, but inside her tent, Evelyne felt oddly detached from it all.
She had expected the pack to be traveling by now, but Kaldrek, Obren, and the other two men were still in his tent, locked in whatever conversation had stalled their plans.
Heidara had explained earlier that the men were from the Glaciermaw pack, a shifter group that usually kept to the north, just beyond the mountain range.
According to her, they weren’t exactly well-liked by her people, which probably explained why Kaldrek and several of his men had shifted the moment they arrived.
The camp had grown restless, people lingering outside their tents, waiting.
But Evelyne had stopped waiting. She knelt beside the washbasin and let the cool water rinse away the grime of the day.
Mud and sweat ran from her skin, along with the warmth that still lingered from the touch of Kaldrek’s mouth on her neck.
She pressed her lips together, scrubbing her arms as if she could wash the memory away. But she didn’t want to. Not really. She hadn’t hated it. If anything, it had been the most intimate, electrifying moment of her life, and he hadn’t even kissed her.
He had grabbed her like something inside him had finally snapped. Like the war he fought within himself had spilled over. The thought of his mouth on her jaw, his breath at her ear, sent warmth curling low in her belly, and she shifted, thighs pressing together.
His tongue against her throat.
His hands gripping her waist.
His thumb brushing her bottom lip.
She could still feel every moment, like her body had memorized him.
What was it that she wanted? Did she truly want him, or was this just another reckless moment? Another impulsive decision waiting to go wrong?
And then there were the words he’d murmured. You drive me mad.
Had he meant them? Because he had looked and acted like a man barely holding himself together. Like whatever he felt had been locked away for too long, and only sheer will was keeping it contained.
Evelyne took a sharp breath and dragged the damp cloth over her neck one final time before tossing it aside. It did nothing to cool the fire smoldering beneath her skin.
She pulled a brush through her hair and left it to dry in loose waves before settling onto her cot with Cillian’s book.
Her fingers traced the worn cover before she opened it and scanned the familiar pages.
She was getting closer to unraveling the prophecy.
She could feel it. This book wasn’t just the ramblings of an old scholar or some forgotten fairytale.
It was a clue, a puzzle waiting to be solved.
And somehow, it had ended up in her hands—the hands of someone who had seen the darkness for herself, who had already watched it take someone she cared about.
No. Cillian wasn’t lost. Not yet. He had to still be in there.
The words blurred slightly as she stared at them. A keeper of light to smother the darkness. But who, or what, held this light? Was it light at all, or something hidden beneath the surface? What did it all mean?
At least the symbols were beginning to make sense, piece by piece.
The tree, she now recognized, was the Solwyn Tree—the sacred place where the Great Rite was performed back in Velenshire.
The eyes had taken longer to figure out.
She had pieced that together in the stillness of night, lying on her cot and going over every detail of Cillian’s sketches.
She knew those eyes. Predatory. Horrifying. The eyes of a wolf that brought death.
But the moon—she still couldn’t make sense of that part.
Maybe it was connected to the celestial event Kaya and Vaelora had been born under.
It seemed possible. Still, why had Cillian been seeing these symbols at all?
Evelyne frowned at the page and turned to the next as if the truth might finally rise from the paper and speak for itself.
A distant voice cut through her thoughts, and she shut the book.
Kaldrek had gathered the pack.
Evelyne dressed quickly, pulling on a set of dry leathers before stepping into the muted light of late afternoon.
The rain had settled into a light mist, and heavy clouds loomed overhead.
At the center of the clearing, Kaldrek stood tall.
Beside him, Obren lingered with his two men, looking far too satisfied for a moment so tense.
Evelyne folded her arms and turned her attention to the pack gathering around them, all eyes fixed on their alpha.
At last, he spoke.
“We’ve received word from the Glaciermaw pack that the northern mountain ranges outside of Nerathar have been overrun by a Noskari army,” Kaldrek announced.
His expression was calm, though his words stirred through the wolves around him.
Murmurs rippled through the Ironwolf pack, and hushed gasps slipped between them.
Evelyne’s heart pounded. An army? She didn’t fully grasp the implications, but an army of Noskari could only mean one thing: death.
“Half of the Glaciermaw pack has been murdered or corrupted by Vaelora’s Noskari. The survivors have abandoned their homeland and are seeking allies.”
A sick feeling settled in Evelyne’s stomach. Half the pack was gone. Families torn apart, children and mates either lost or twisted into something monstrous. And yet, despite the devastating news, the Ironwolf pack remained composed. Why weren’t they panicking?
Her eyes landed on Kaldrek. He looked calm and steady, like someone they could all count on. She wondered if he was why the pack stayed strong, holding together like iron. How could anyone be afraid when their alpha looked like that?
Beside her, Alaric’s frame was tense, and she knew him well enough to sense the fear hidden underneath.What chance did their home have if Vaelora could destroy a northern pack?
“And you trust his word, Alpha?” one of the elders asked, distaste evident in his tone.
Kaldrek gave a firm nod in response just as Obren stepped forward. His arrogant smirk from before was now replaced by a far more serious expression.
“We all know there’s been… history between my pack and the Ironwolf members,” Obren said. “But I swear to you, this is not a lie. Now is the time to put aside our past. If we don’t fight back together, we’ll all be slaughtered separately.”
Silence fell over the camp.
“How?” One of the Ironwolf warriors stepped forward, gaze locked on Kaldrek. “How do we defeat an army of Noskari?”
Kaldrek’s shoulders tensed, but his face remained impassive. When he spoke, it was with lethal certainty.
“We train. We find other shifters. And we fight.” His eyes swept across the pack. “The worst thing we can do is hide. Because if we don’t stop them, they will eventually come for us. And then what? What happens to our families? To our pups?”
A shudder ran through Evelyne. The pups. The children of their packs. Would they be drained of blood to fuel Vaelora’s growing army? Or worse—would they become Noskari? The idea made bile rise in her throat.
“I say we rip the fuckers to pieces,” Holden growled.
A surge of fierce agreement erupted through the pack, their voices rising in battle-hungry approval.
Even Obren and the two men flanking him, likely his second and third in command, smiled at the sound.
But Evelyne couldn’t share in their bloodthirsty excitement.
All she could think about were the wolves Glaciermaw had lost—the ones twisted by corruption, the ones who had become the monsters they were now being called to fight.
Why had Vaelora targeted Cillian, a southern boy without connection to the wolves, the mountain packs, or anything linked to the Noskari? None of it added up.
“Good,” Kaldrek said, his voice cutting through the rising energy in the crowd. “Sounds like my pack agrees.” He turned to Obren. “We move at first light. If we push hard, we’ll reach Cindermoor in three or four days. Stay alert.”
Evelyne barely registered the rest. Cindermoor.
The name sparked recognition. Alaric had told her it was the first settlement beyond the wilds.
After weeks of travel, she would finally set foot in civilization again.
And despite everything—the danger, the loss—a tiny flicker of excitement stirred inside her.
She would finally see normalcy again, something that felt long lost. If such a thing even existed anymore.