Chapter 12
Dane
The room contracts around us. Four bodies packed into Nova’s shack turn the space into a pressure cooker. Maps and printed images paper the walls—some marked with her precise handwriting, others glowing with Lyanna’s sigils. A connected mess of intel I didn’t authorize.
Nova’s changed since this morning. Gone are the short shorts and flimsy tank top that nearly broke my control.
Now she’s in fitted black cargo pants and a long-sleeve turtleneck that hugs every curve.
Somehow it’s worse. The fabric clings to her like a second skin, outlining the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. Professional.
Deadly. And making me think about peeling it off her.
Nova doesn’t acknowledge my presence. Her attention locks on Rafe like he’s a puzzle piece she was missing. “You traced the energy signature.”
“Three sites,” Rafe confirms, moving to her makeshift desk without invitation. He pulls a folded paper from his jacket, spreading it across her keyboard. “Here. Here. And—“
“The north ridge,” she finishes, tapping a spot on the map that matches one of her markings. “I tracked the resonance before I came to Ash Hollow.”
My jaw tightens. “So you were in our territory before I caught you.”
She doesn’t look up. “Yes.”
Just like that. No explanation. No apology.
Rafe’s eyes flick between us, calculating something. I don’t like it. Don’t like how he reads the air, how he stands—not challenging my authority, but not acknowledging it either.
“The fracture points create a pattern,” Lyanna says, moving to the map. Her fingertips trace invisible lines between the marked locations. “Three points, then five, now seven.”
“Sequential. Deliberate,” Nova murmurs.
“Deliberate,” Rafe agrees. “Not just random breaches. He’s creating something.”
My pulse kicks up. I cross my arms, holding my position by the door. “Creating what?”
“A net,” Nova says, glancing up at me for the first time. Her eyes are sharp, focused. “Each fracture point releases energy, anchors magic. They’re thin spots in reality.”
“They seal themselves after discharge,” Lyanna adds. “But the echo remains.”
Rafe leans over the map, his broad shoulders blocking part of my view. “That pattern it’s tracking movement.”
Something cold slides down my spine. “Whose movement?”
No one answers. The silence stretches just long enough for me to hear my own heartbeat between my ears.
“His energy signature doesn’t remain in the land,” Rafe finally says. “It follows scent trails.” He looks directly at Nova. “Your scent trails.”
The room goes cold. My hands curl into fists at my sides.
“He’s not tracking your land,” Rafe continues, voice flat. “He’s tracking her.”
Nova doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react at all. Like she already knew.
“How long?” I ask, the words scraping my throat.
“Since before I arrived,” she answers, still studying the map. “I came here because the signature was strongest near Ash Hollow. I thought I was following him.”
“He was following you,” Lyanna confirms quietly.
The pieces click together with sickening clarity. The timing of her arrival. Her refusal to explain. Her constant movement along our borders. She wasn’t just investigating—she was trying to draw him out. Using my territory as hunting grounds.
My wolf surges under my skin, claws scraping at my control.
“Everyone out,” I say, my voice dropping to something barely human. “Now.”
Rafe straightens, his expression neutral. “We need to—“
“Out,” I repeat. “Lyanna. Take him to the main lodge. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Lyanna hesitates, eyes flickering to Nova, then back to me. She nods once and guides Rafe toward the door. He goes without protest, his movement deliberate. Calculating.
The door closes behind them. The room shrinks further with just the two of us.
“You knew,” I say. My voice sounds hollow in my own ears.
Nova stands, faces me squarely. “Yes.”
“You used my pack as bait.”
“No.” Her answer is quick, sharp. “I needed proximity. If he came for me here, your pack would feel the ripple. Someone would come looking.”
I step closer, closing the distance between us. “You could have told me.”
“Would you have believed me?”
I steady my breathing. Wrestle my wolf back from the edge.
“This ends now,” I say, the words grinding between my teeth. “Whatever game you’re playing—“
“It’s not a game.” Her voice cuts through mine like a blade. “If I wanted to use your pack as bait, I’d have done it without getting caught.”
“So what’s this, then?” I step closer, crowding her space. “You just needed a safe place to hide?”
“I don’t hide.” She doesn’t back away. “I hunt.”
The word hits something primal in me. Her scent floods my senses—wild honey threaded with lust.
Her defiance radiates from every angle of her face. The rapid flutter at her throat betrays the calm in her voice. Dark hair with violet undertones frames her jaw, wild strands catching the dim light filtering through the window.
That fae glow makes her skin seem lit from within. Her eyes—violet shot through with gold—stare back without wavering.
My cock hardens against my jeans. Her arousal mixing with mine in the confined space makes my pulse kick into overdrive.
“You’ve compromised my entire pack.” My voice drops lower. “You brought danger to my door and didn’t even have the decency to warn me.”
“I warned you the minute I walked in.” Her eyes flash. “You just didn’t listen.”
Something snaps in my chest. One moment I’m standing there, barely holding it together; the next I’ve got her pinned against the wall, my hands braced on either side of her head.
“I am so fucking tired,” I growl, “of your half-truths.”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t soften. Her pulse hammers at her throat, but her eyes stay locked on mine.
“And I’m tired of your posturing.” Her voice is steady. “You want the full truth? Ask the right questions.”
My hands curl into fists against the wall. I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. Smell the anger rolling off her in waves—and underneath it, something sharper. Hotter.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was tracking you?” I demand, leaning closer.
“Because you would’ve thrown me out.” She shifts, chin lifting. “And I need to be here when he comes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the only one who can track his signature.”
Our faces are inches apart now. I can count her breaths. Feel the tension in her body mirroring mine.
“Bullshit,” I say. “Lyanna can track fae magic.”
“She can’t do what I can.” Her hand comes up, fingers pressing flat against my chest. Not pushing me away. Just ... there. Burning through my shirt. “No one can.”
I grab her wrist, meaning to pull it away, but instead, my thumb finds her pulse point, pressing against the flutter there. Her breath catches.
Her skin burns under my touch. I can feel the rapid beat of her heart, see how her pupils dilate when I press against that vulnerable spot. Her lips part slightly, and I catch the faint glow that edges her violet irises when her magic responds to the intensity between us.
My own pulse kicks up, responding to hers. The scent of her arousal mingles with mine in the small space.
“Why should I believe you now?” My voice is barely recognizable.
Instead of answering, she surges forward. Her mouth crashes against mine, hot and demanding.
I’m lost before I can think. My hands move to her waist, fingers digging into her hips as I pull her against me.
Her arms lock around my neck, body arching into mine.
The kiss turns brutal. Teeth catching. Tongues sliding.
I back her harder against the wall, and she makes a sound that shoots straight through me.
My hand finds her thigh, hitching it up around my hip. She grinds against my hard cock, and I’m drowning in her scent, in the taste of her mouth, in the feel of her body pressed against mine.
I slide my hand inside her turtleneck, to her bare breasts, so soft yet firm. I pinch her hard nipples, eliciting a moan from both of us. I can’t get enough. I’m so fucking hard I ache to drive my cock into her pussy.
I break the kiss to drag my mouth down her throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there. She gasps, head falling back against the wall.
Her fingers slide into my hair, grip tightening as I bite down on the curve where her neck meets her shoulder.
“Dane,” she breathes, and something about my name in her mouth snaps me back to reality.
The pack. Faelan. Rafe waiting in the lodge.
I freeze. Force myself to pull back, just enough to see her face. Her pupils are blown wide, lips swollen from my mouth.
With every ounce of will I possess, I step away. Release her.
She stays against the wall, watching me. Not breathless. Not confused. Just ... waiting.
“We can’t do this,” I say, voice raw. “Not now.”
She says nothing. Just catches her breath. Her turtleneck is still bunched above her breasts where I shoved it. She tugs it down without breaking eye contact. My hands still ache from letting go.
“The pack’s waiting.”
I don’t wait for her to agree. I step back. Rebuild the wall. Turn toward the door.
Her voice stops me.
“You were right to stop.” A beat. “But don’t lie like you wanted to.”
I don’t turn around. I just leave.
The door clicks closed behind me.
I breathe. Once. Twice. My skin burns where she touched me, and her scent clings to my clothes like smoke. I need to get my head straight before I walk into that meeting.
Too late. Two warriors stand guard outside the lodge. Their nostrils flare as I approach. Eyes drop. Postures shift. They say nothing, but I see the micro-adjustments—the careful blank expressions that hide what they smell on me.
Nova’s scent. Arousal. Restraint.
I nod curtly and push through the double doors.
The main room is quiet. Rafe sits at the head of the long table—my spot—with maps spread in front of him. He doesn’t move when I enter. Doesn’t acknowledge my authority or apologize for taking my chair. He simply looks up, eyes flat and assessing.
Lyanna stands near the window, arms crossed, face unreadable. The air in the room feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
“Alpha,” she says, just formal enough to remind everyone who’s in charge.
I don’t sit. Instead, I plant myself at the opposite end of the table, hands flat on the wood. “Let’s get started.”
Rafe nods once. “The tears in the realm are accelerating. Seven confirmed breaches in the last month.”
His accent isn’t quite European, isn’t quite anything I recognize. It sits wrong on my ear—vowels stretched, consonants clipped in unusual places. Not foreign, exactly. Other.
“The pattern indicates intent,” he continues, tapping specific points on the map. “Each breach occurs where ley lines intersect with—“
“With what?”
His eyes lock onto mine. No dominance challenge, no submission. Just cold assessment.
“With places she’s been,” he says.
I don’t need to ask who she is.
Rafe stands, moves around the table with the deliberate grace of someone indifferent to gravity. His boots make no sound on the wooden floor. None at all.
“Your guest is more valuable than you realize,” he says. “Her tracking abilities are unique.”
“You’re saying he created her for this?”
“He didn’t make her. He made sure she’d be his.”
The room goes still. I can hear heartbeats. Not just mine—everyone’s.
My control slips, just for a second. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means she’s the key,” he says, placing his finger on the center of the map. “And that’s why he’s here. She wasn’t following him. He was herding her. Right to this spot.”
Lyanna steps forward. “The pattern doesn’t just track Nova. It creates containment. Each breach point establishes barriers.”
“What kind of barriers?” I ask.
“The kind that only works if the target doesn’t know they exist,” Rafe explains. His stillness is unnatural.
“You’re not from here,” I say.
He studies me for a moment, his expression unchanging. “No, I’m not.”
“Then where?”
“A place where we’ve seen this before,” he replies. “A place where Faelan tried this same ritual. It didn’t end well.”
The implications hang in the air. This isn’t just about territorial incursion. It’s about something bigger. Something worse.
“And what’s your stake in this?” I demand. “Why do you care what happens to Ash Hollow? To Nova?”
Rafe doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze shifts past my shoulder, toward the door.
I turn. Nova stands in the doorway, fingers still on the handle.