Chapter 23
Tarek watched the arrow arc through the morning air, a perfect trajectory that ended with a soft thump as it buried itself in the grazer’s side. The animal stumbled, took three more steps on unsteady legs, and then collapsed into the tall grass at the edge of the meadow.
He waited, crouched in the shadow of a boulder, counting heartbeats. When the grazer didn’t rise, he emerged from his hiding spot and crossed the open ground with long, silent strides.
The kill had been clean. His arrow had found the heart, or close enough to it—the animal hadn’t suffered. He crouched beside the body, running his hand over the coarse brown fur, feeling the last traces of warmth fading beneath his palm.
Thank you, he thought, the words an old habit from his training days. Your death gives life.
He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to hunt for others. For years, he’d taken only what he needed for himself—a cottma here, a bird there, enough to sustain his solitary existence but never more. The idea of excess had seemed obscene when he was the only mouth to feed.
Now there were three.
The thought made his beast rumble with satisfaction, even though it had been denied the pleasure of the hunt. His mate and her sister, waiting for him in the den he’d built, trusting him to provide for them and keep them safe in a world that had given them precious little safety.
He drew his knife and began to dress the kill, his movements quick and efficient. The grazer was young, its meat would be tender. Jessa could make stew, or perhaps roast it over the fire with the herbs he’d gathered—
He froze as the scent reached him. His nostrils flared, his beast surging to the surface with a snarl of warning.
Another Vultor male. Too close to his family.
His hand tightened on the knife as his eyes swept the tree line, searching for movement. The morning had been quiet when he’d left the den, the forest peaceful, and he’d allowed himself to relax into the rhythm of the hunt. A mistake. He should have been more vigilant.
There.
A flicker of shadow between the trees. A branch that bent under a weight it shouldn’t have been bearing. The faintest whisper of displaced air.
His muscles coiled, ready to spring, but he decided to wait. If another Vultor had found him, others would follow. Better to face the threat now, on his terms, than to be cornered later with everything he loved at stake.
He turned back to his kill, forcing his hands to steady as he resumed dressing the carcass. The knife moved through flesh and sinew with practiced ease, separating meat from bone. He didn’t look towards the trees. Didn’t acknowledge the presence lurking at the edge of his awareness.
Let the other male come to him. Let him show his hand first.
The waiting stretched, taut as a bowstring. His beast paced beneath his skin, growling low and continuous, but he kept his movements slow and deliberate, as if he hadn’t noticed the predator watching from the shadows.
Finally, a voice broke the silence.
“You’re either very brave or very stupid.”
He didn’t look up. “Most would say both.”
A laugh—low and rough, with an edge of genuine amusement. “Fair enough. Mind if I join you?”
“Would my objection stop you?”
“Probably not.”
The other Vultor emerged from the tree line with an easy, confident stride that set his teeth on edge.
He was young—late twenties, perhaps, though it was always difficult to tell with their kind.
Tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair pulled back from a face that might have been carved from granite.
His eyes were amber, cold and calculating, and they swept over his crouched form with an assessment that missed nothing.
“Name’s Korrin.” He stopped a few paces away, close enough for conversation but far enough to react if things turned hostile. Smart. “I’m with the pack on the other side of the mountain.”
He set down his knife, wiping his blood-stained hands on the grass. “Your pack’s reputation precedes you.” He stood slowly, deliberately, letting the other male see the full breadth of his shoulders, the scars that marked his arms and chest. “Why are you here?”
Korrin’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You could call me a messenger. My alpha sent me.”
“Your alpha sent you to track down the exile in his territory?”
“This isn’t our territory.” Korrin’s tone was mild, almost conversational, but Tarek didn’t relax his guard. “It’s yours. Has been for years, from what I understand. We’ve respected that.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” Korrin agreed. He shifted his weight, a casual movement that somehow managed to look both relaxed and ready for violence.
“We’ve known you were here, but you kept to yourself and didn’t cause any trouble.
” His gaze sharpened. “But things have changed. There are rumors about a human woman who went up a mountain and never came back down.”
His blood ran cold as he clenched his fists, fighting for control.
“What kind of rumors?”
“The usual.” Korrin shrugged, but his eyes remained fixed on Tarek’s face, watching his reactions. “That you’ve taken her captive. That you’re holding her against her will. That she and her sister fled the village to escape a monster and found something worse.”
A growl tore from his throat before he could stop it, low and vicious.
“She came to me willingly. They both did. I would never—”
“I believe you.” Korrin held up a hand, palm out. “Calm down. I’m not here to accuse you of anything. I’m just telling you what’s being said.”
“Why?”
“Because the humans believe it. Or enough of them do.” His expression shifted, something that might have been sympathy flickering behind the cold amber of his eyes. “They’re talking about sending a hunting party to rescue the poor helpless woman from the big bad Vultor.”
His claws extended, puncturing the flesh of his palms. The pain was distant, inconsequential, lost beneath the roar of his beast.
“Let them come.”
“That’s one option.” Korrin’s voice was calm, reasonable—the voice of a man who had talked others down from violence more times than he could count.
“You’re strong. You could probably take half of them before they brought you down.
Maybe more. But there are always more humans and you have people to protect now, don’t you? A mate. A child.”
His vision narrowed, his beast howling for blood.
“If you threaten them—”
“I’m not threatening anyone.” Korrin didn’t flinch, despite the murder that must have been blazing in Tarek’s eyes. “I’m trying to help you. That’s why I’m here.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and dangerous. His beast demanded violence, demanded that he tear out the throat of this intruder who dared speak of his mate and her sister. But something in Korrin’s voice—some note of sincerity that cut through the red haze of his rage—made him hesitate.
“Help me,” he repeated flatly. “Why?”
“Because my alpha asked me to.” Korrin crossed his arms over his chest, a deliberately casual posture that somehow managed to look threatening anyway.
“Seren took over the pack a few years back, and he’s been trying to rebuild ever since.
He wants to build something that doesn’t involve blood and chaos and endless cycles of revenge. ”
“Noble of him.”
“He’d say it’s practical.” A ghost of a smile crossed Korrin’s face. “What purpose do those violent clashes serve? He’s been working on establishing trade routes with some of the human settlements instead, ones that benefit both sides. It’s slow going, but it’s working.”
His mind raced, trying to fit this new information into his understanding of the world. He’d always assumed that the pack on the other side of the mountains was like all the others, brutal and territorial.
The idea that they might be building something different, something better, was almost impossible to comprehend.
“What does any of this have to do with me?”
“You’re an exile,” Korrin said simply. “So was I, once. Seren doesn’t believe that exile should be a death sentence. He thinks we’ve lost too many people to a system that throws away anyone who doesn’t fit the mold.”
“I was exiled by the Vultor council.”
The words fell into the silence like stones into still water. He hadn’t meant to say them, but they needed to know his exile wasn’t simply a pack dispute.
Korrin’s expression didn’t change. “Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might.”
“My work was being used to hurt people,” he said quietly. “So I destroyed it. I broke my vow to my House.”
Another silence. When he looked up, Korrin was watching him with an expression that was almost… respectful.
“The pack has room for males who protect the weak,” he said. “Even if they had to break rules to do it. Especially then, maybe.”
“I don’t want to join a pack.”
“You don’t have to.” Korrin shrugged. “The offer isn’t contingent on membership.
Seren’s extending a hand to other exiles—friendship, support, protection if it’s needed.
No strings attached. If you want to stay out here in your territory with your mate, that’s your choice.
We’ll respect it. But if you need help…” He let the sentence hang, unfinished.
His thoughts churned. The part of him that had spent five years alone wanted to send this stranger away and return to his solitary existence, his walls intact.
But he wasn’t solitary anymore. He had Jessa now, and Dani, and they deserved more than a life spent hiding in the shadows.
“The hunting party,” he said slowly. “Can you stop it?”
“Already done.” Korrin’s smile was sharp, predatory.
“I paid a visit to a member of the village council before coming here and explained that the Vultor pack has taken an interest in the well-being of those who live in these mountains. That we would be… displeased if anything happened to the woman or her sister. Or you.”
“And he believed you?”
“He believed that I could tear his throat out before he could scream for help.” The smile widened. “Amazing how convincing that can be. But threats only go so far,” he added. “Mutual benefits are more successful in the long run.”
Despite himself, he felt a grudging respect for the younger male. He had a warrior’s instincts, yes, but also a cunning that spoke of experience far beyond his years.
“The trade routes you mentioned,” he said. “What do they involve?”
“Basic goods, mostly. The humans have crops, livestock, and crafted items to trade while we have access to resources they can’t reach. Seren’s been working on establishing formal agreements. Most of them have been local so far but we’re considering expanding them.”
“My mate is a weaver.” The words came out before he could stop them. “She’s been making fabric from the sunvines that grow in my territory.”
Interest flickered in Korrin’s eyes. “I’ve heard of it. That could be worth a fortune in the right markets.”
“She was being exploited by someone in the village. That’s why she left.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawned on Korrin’s face. “And now she needs a way to sell her work without going through him.”
“Yes.”
“That can be arranged.” Korrin’s expression turned calculating, but not in a way that made Tarek’s beast growl with suspicion.
It was the look of a male solving a puzzle, fitting pieces together.
“We have contacts in some of the larger settlements. Traders who deal fairly, who wouldn’t ask questions about where the fabric came from or who made it. ”
Could this be a way forward? Hope stirred in his chest although he kept his face calm.
“I need to speak with my mate,” he said. “Before I agree to anything.”
“Of course.” Korrin nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less. “Take your time. I’ll be in the area for a few days. There’s a valley about two hours east where I’ve made camp. When you’re ready to talk, find me there.”
He turned to go, then paused, looking back over his shoulder.
“One more thing. I caught the scent when the wind shifted. You’ve claimed her.”
It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “Yes.”
“Then she’s pack. Or as close to it as makes no difference.” Korrin’s expression softened. “That means something to us. To Seren. Whatever happens, whatever you decide… she and the child have our protection. You have our protection.”
Then he was gone, melting into the forest like a shadow, leaving him alone with his kill and his racing thoughts.
For a long moment, he didn’t move. His beast was still restless, pacing beneath his skin, but the urgency had faded. The threat, if it had ever truly been a threat, had passed. What remained was something far more complex.
An opportunity.
He finished dressing the grazer quickly, bundling the meat into the leather pack he’d brought. The morning sun was climbing higher, warming his skin, and somewhere in the distance, a bird began to sing.
I need to speak with my mate.
He’d said the words without thinking, but as he shouldered his pack and began the long walk back to the den, he realized he’d meant them.
Jessa needed to know about the rumors and about the choice that lay before them. She was his mate now—his partner, his equal in all things—and he wouldn’t make this decision without her.
The path wound through the forest, familiar and strange at once. He’d walked it a thousand times, but never with the knowledge that the solitary existence he’d built might be coming to an end.
He wasn’t sure if that terrified him or filled him with hope. Maybe both.
The den came into view through the trees, smoke rising from the chimney, and his beast settled. He had a mate now, a family, and no matter what did or didn’t happen with the pack, that was enough.