Chapter 5
Hours had passed since Evelyne had last spoken to Kaldrek, and she still could not sense the faintest trace of what he felt.
If he had found a way to wall himself off, he was doing it flawlessly.
Or perhaps there was nothing left to hide—no more anger, only the clear, steady focus of an alpha.
I have a pack to lead. The words still echoed in her mind.
She tugged her wool-lined leathers tighter as they crossed the final valley, moving at a brisk pace between lesser peaks.
They had passed the mountain with the snowless crown earlier that morning, yet the eastern grasslands remained out of sight.
One range after another still stood between them and the edge of the north.
Maybe she should leave Kaldrek be for the rest of the day and let him keep his distance until nightfall.
The last thing she wanted was to hurt him again with clumsy words.
But there was still so much she needed to say—about her fears, the nightmares, Alaric, and the question of her true pack.
For now, though, it would have to wait. Perhaps until they reached level ground.
The sound of quick footsteps broke through her thoughts. Evelyne looked up as Holden jogged back from the front of the line, breath misting in the cold. He stopped before Heidara, chest heaving as though he had been sent sprinting the length of the pack.
“How does it look ahead?” Heidara asked, slowing before she collided with his broad frame.
“Good news, little sister.” Holden broke into a wide grin, emerald eyes alight with excitement. “We’ve finally spotted the last stretch of trail.”
“Thank the gods,” Heidara groaned, though a smile tugged at her mouth as she glanced at Evelyne.
Evelyne returned it, but unease tightened low in her stomach. Kaldrek could have told her himself. He could have reached for her through the bond with barely a thought. Instead, he had sent Holden.
The message was plain enough.
He was still angry.
“So, what’s the plan?” Heidara asked.
“We’ll stop soon,” Holden said, as if to reassure her.
“Make camp and give the packs a chance to rest. It may not be home, but it’s near enough, and I think everyone wants Nerathar at their backs.
” He tossed his head, flicking a few golden strands from his eyes, and glanced over Heidara’s shoulder as though looking for someone.
Both he and Kaldrek had let their hair grow since Evelyne first met them; the extra length softened their features and lent them a younger, almost roguish air.
She bit back her reply, though the thought would not leave her: these lands held danger too. Everyone knew that. But here, the wolves were stronger for it. They fought harder, ate better, and trained until every edge in them was honed.
“Do you need us to pass the word?” Evelyne asked.
“Nah.” Holden’s grin spread as he arched his brows. “I’d rather stroll to the back and visit one of the Glaciermaw females I’ve had my eye on.”
Heidara groaned. “Really, Holden? Who in Glaciermaw could you possibly—”
Holden’s smirk gave him away.
“Don’t tell me it’s Sasha.”
“None of your business, little sis.” He winked and brushed past them.
Evelyne snorted.
“Gross.” Heidara rolled her eyes. “Sasha’s a total bore and catty as hell. If that’s who he’s chasing for a passing amusement, I’ll gag.”
Evelyne tried to put names to the Glaciermaw wolves, but most of them blurred together in her mind.
She had neither the time nor much reason to know them beyond courtesy.
Civility had been enough. Her attention had belonged elsewhere—to the Ironwolves, to her brother, to Alaric…
and now, inevitably, to Kaldrek. At least Obren, the alpha of Glaciermaw, had ceased to be a problem.
Since the bond sealed, he had kept to his own pack and treated her with a wary sort of respect, as though he understood exactly what Kaldrek’s jealousy might make of anything more.
Still, one Glaciermaw female stood out in Evelyne’s memory: tall, with short brown hair, hazel eyes, and a watchful stillness that set her apart.
She was serious, unsmiling, never given to idle chatter.
Evelyne had never spoken to her beyond what politeness required, but she recalled Obren calling her Sasha, or something near enough.
That must have been her. Evelyne suspected the cold had muddled Holden’s head.
She doubted he cared for the female herself so much as the comfort of a warm body beside him.
***
Alaric leaned his shoulder into the half-raised frame, holding the heavy peg steady while Heidara secured the line.
The scent of pine and cold earth filled the evening air, and dusk spilled slowly across the horizon.
They had made it at last. They had reached the lands of Centaro.
Yet the victory rang hollow. He still had no command over his own words, no sure control of his movements, and his thoughts slipped through his grasp like water.
When the pack emerged from the mountains and Kaldrek called for camp, Heidara had drifted toward Alaric with that quiet calmness that always seemed to belong to her.
He loved the sight of her face, so fine and beautiful, yet of late every exchange ended with sorrow dimming her eyes. That look cut deeper than she knew.
His body carried on without him, hammering, bracing, tying, while she remained close at hand. She had not spoken yet. Instead, she stood near, as if hoping he might finally break the silence himself.
He could not. So he let himself look at her instead: at the long braid falling over her shoulder as she bent to tie a flawless knot, at the lift of her lashes when she caught him watching. Her smile was soft, and it struck him clean through.
“Hey.” She rose and brushed the dirt from her leathers, fingers drifting to the end of her braid. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something…” The words faded faintly, touched with uncertainty.
She was beautiful in those small, faltering moments, and far too easy to adore.
But dread tightened his chest all the same.
Was she about to ask about his silence? About the darkness dragging at him from within?
He wanted nothing more than to keep it from her, even if that meant saying nothing at all.
“Alaric.” Her eyes searched his face. “What is going on with you? Did I… do something to upset you?”
No. Never. The words tore through him, but they never reached his lips.
His stomach twisted. She thought this distance was her fault. She thought he no longer wanted her. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
He fought for his voice, clawing toward it, forcing himself against the darkness festering inside him. But it was stronger. It closed around his throat and dragged him back into that black, bottomless silence. No. He had to get to her, had to—
A low stir moved through the camp. Even the demon seemed to still.
The wolves fell silent, and Heidara’s head whipped toward her alpha. Kaldrek and Obren were already in motion, their bodies twisting and tearing into the fearsome shapes of their wolf forms.
Something was coming.
Alaric went rigid as tension cut through the air like a drawn blade.
Then chaos broke out. In seconds the camp dissolved into mayhem, shapes blurring as wolves lunged to defend from every direction.
Cracks and snaps echoed through the clearing as bodies shifted—Heidara among them.
She was breathtaking in her wolf form, all shades of gray and pale gold, her eyes burning red with readiness.
She lowered into a crouch, her muscles coiled to spring.
Then she turned toward him, as if urging him to stay behind her.
He found himself doing exactly that—or rather, his body did.
Growls rippled around him. At the front of the formation stood Evelyne, Kaldrek, Holden, and Obren, teeth bared in their towering wolf forms, terrifying and yet strangely beautiful. Even so, Alaric still could not see what had set them off.
Then a large pack of wolves rose over the horizon, and fear clawed at his ribs. He had never seen them before. Before he could make sense of their shapes, Heidara and the others sprang forward, only to stop so suddenly they slid to a jarring halt. What in hell was going on?
Heidara had gone only a few feet before she shifted back, the others doing the same, all of them left bare-skinned beneath the open sky.
Alaric jerked his gaze away as she snatched up her discarded clothes and stomped back toward him, irritation pouring from her as she hissed, “You’ve got to be kidding me. ”
He looked again to the strangers, his pulse easing only slightly when a male and female at the head of the pack shifted into human form.
The male was broad and well into middle age, carrying himself with the easy authority of someone long accustomed to obedience.
But it was the female beside him who drew the eye.
She walked a step ahead, slim and strong, her hair black as midnight.
She was older, but there was nothing diminished about her.
If anything, she seemed to command the very space between them.
And behind them loomed their pack. A living wall of wolves, guarding their leaders.
“The Moonshade pack,” Evelyne said softly, and Alaric realized only then that she had come up beside them.
“Yes,” Heidara replied, the word clipped.
Evelyne tipped her head, her tone caught somewhere between teasing and caution. “And is there some long-standing hatred here as well, like with Glaciermaw? Or may I breathe easy this time?”
Heidara let out a quiet sigh. “No. I actually like most of them.”
Evelyne’s brow lifted. “Most?”
“Our pack has no quarrel with Moonshade.” Her gaze lowered, and when she spoke again, her voice dropped with it. “I am the one who carries the quarrel.”
Evelyne looked as though she might ask more, but Heidara turned instead to Alaric. His body still would not obey him, but he watched as she caught her lower lip between her teeth before speaking.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you. But I wish you would just say it. Say something.”
Then she turned and walked away, and something inside Alaric gave way, hollow and aching.