Chapter 14
Dane
The door swings shut behind her. Its click echoes in the quiet.
I don’t move. Can’t move. The air shifts cold where she stood minutes ago.
Tactically, she’s right. One tracker, clean lines, minimal interference. But she’s not just a tracker. She’s—
I cut the thought off before it forms.
“She won’t wait for your blessing,” Rafe says, breaking the silence. His voice is flat, an observation without judgment. That makes it worse.
I flex my fingers, releasing tension that’s built without me noticing. “She doesn’t need it.”
“No,” he agrees. “She doesn’t.”
Lyanna steps forward, arms crossed tight against her chest. “The herbs I mentioned might help, but they won’t shield her from backlash if he catches her tracing him.”
“When,” I correct. “When he catches her.”
Because he will. That’s what predators do. They let the prey think it’s hunting until the jaws snap shut.
The floorboards creak as I shift my weight. Just a slight adjustment, but Rafe’s eyes track the movement. Alpha recognizing Alpha, even when both are off-balance.
“She told us what she’s doing,” Lyanna says. Her voice softens. “That’s something.”
Is it? Or is it just enough rope to keep us still while she walks into fire?
I look down at my hands, steadier than they should be. I’ve sent wolves into danger before. Set perimeters. Calculated acceptable losses. This is different. This isn’t about pack hierarchy or territory defense. This is about a woman who looked me in the eye and told me exactly how she plans to die.
And I let her walk out.
“She’s been preparing for this since birth,” Rafe says. “Whether she knew it or not.”
I turn, stare him down. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
He doesn’t flinch. “No. Just means you can’t stop it.”
“Watch me,” I growl.
His expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes.
“She’ll cut you out if you try to control her,” Lyanna warns.
“I’m not trying to control her,” I snap. “I’m trying to keep her alive.”
The words land harder than I intend.
Rafe tilts his head slightly. “Are you?”
I stare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means there’s a line,” he says. “Between protection and possession. Between fear and control.”
I don’t answer. The clock on the wall ticks, each second an accusation.
“Forty-eight hours. Then she hunts. Which means I have forty-seven to find another way.”
I straighten, authority settling back into place. It’s familiar. Necessary. “Keep this contained. No one else hears about her plan until I decide how to handle it.”
Lyanna nods. Rafe just watches.
I head for the door, each step precise. Controlled. My hand closes around the knob, cold metal against skin that runs too hot.
I step outside, let the night air hit my face. But even here, I catch traces of honey-citrus-magic retreating into the dark. Fainter now. Moving away.
But not gone. Not yet.
I scan the perimeter—force of habit—cataloging shadows, scent traces, movement in the trees. Anything to channel the surge of restless energy burning under my skin.
I don’t trust. I breathe deep, letting the morning air dilute Nova’s lingering scent. It doesn’t work. Even with the distance she’s put between us, I can still track her path through the forest—that bright, wild signature cutting northeast toward the boundary line.
Wyatt approaches from the barracks, shoulders squared. “Alpha.”
“Double the watch,” I say, voice steady. “Four-hour rotations, six positions instead of four.”
“Think you could get hold of Serena and Rhonan?” Wyatt asks. “Her fae heritage would help with magical disturbances, and his tactical training would be useful for coordinating defenses.”
I shake my head. “They’re tied up with the Briarwood diplomatic crisis. Royal bloodlines make them essential for those negotiations.”
Wyatt nods grimly. “Then we work with what we have.”
“Tell Ben to take the northeast post.”
His expression flickers—uncertainty, then understanding. The northeast quadrant faces the hills where Nova disappeared.
“Ben’s good,” Wyatt says. “Quiet. Observant.”
“That’s why I want him there.”
We don’t say her name. The pack’s been watching the dance between us since she arrived—the tension, the clash, whatever the hell happened in my cabin. They know the northeast post means Nova.
Wyatt nods again and turns away, already mentally rearranging assignments.
I roll my shoulders back, trying to release the knot of tension between my shoulder blades. It doesn’t budge.
Footsteps approach—deliberate, unhurried. Ben. He stops beside me, no greeting, just a slight dip of his chin.
“Northeast quadrant,” I say.
“Yes, Alpha.” His voice is low, measured. Two words that carry a complete understanding. Ben isn’t like the others. Doesn’t need explanations or reassurance. Just clear orders and space to execute them. He shifts his weight, ready to move out.
“If she needs backup,” I add, “she won’t ask for it.”
He gives a single nod.
The lodge door opens behind us. Heavier footsteps. Slower. Rafe.
Ben slips away silently, heading toward his post. I don’t watch him go. My attention locks onto Rafe’s approach—the measured stride, the way he claims space without effort. He’s not pressing dominance. But he’s not yielding either.
Every Alpha instinct in me bristles.
Rafe stops at a careful distance. His eyes scan the forest line, the same as I did moments ago.
“Nice territory,” he says. “Defensible. Good sightlines.”
“You move like this place already belongs to you,” I say, tracking his movements.
He doesn’t react to the edge in my voice. Just shrugs. “Old habits.”
“You don’t walk into another Alpha’s stronghold without naming your stake.” I take a step closer. “So let’s hear it. Who the fuck are you, anyway?”
Rafe meets my stare, calm as winter steel. “Someone who’s already watched this play out once. Who knows what it looks like when Faelan wins.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters right now.” His voice stays neutral, but I catch the brief flare of something ancient in his eyes. “I’m not your rival, Alpha. I’m your reminder: The world gets smaller if we don’t stop him here.”
The air between us crackles with unspoken challenge, but neither of us shifts stance. This isn’t a brawl. It’s a cold read. And Rafe isn’t backing down.
“You’re Drakorian,” I say, noting the subtle differences in his stance, his scent. Something about him reads different from Rhonan—older, harder. “Border pack?”
His jaw tightens slightly. “North range. You know about the realm.”
“Enough.” Serena and Rhonan’s stories have given me a basic understanding—dragons, wolves, fae existing in uneasy balance. But this wolf carries something heavier than diplomatic knowledge. “Border packs kept peace where territories overlapped, right?”
“When peace was an option.” He crosses his arms.
I step back, giving him space but not turning away. “So what brought you here? Through the portal?”
His face hardens. “Faelan. Or rather, what he did.”
“Which was?”
“He destabilized the realm’s boundaries. Started small—just enough to slip between worlds undetected. Then he began experimenting.” Rafe’s eyes darken. “My pack paid the price when one of those experiments went wrong.”
Callum approaches from behind, keeping distance but close enough to hear. I don’t acknowledge him, keeping my focus on Rafe.
“You’re saying Faelan’s responsible for the portal instability,” I say.
“I’m saying it’s not random. It’s calculated.” Rafe uncrosses his arms. “And I’m saying I’ve seen what happens when he succeeds. You think you’ve got problems now? Wait until he tears down the barriers completely.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn’t. Not yet.” He nods toward the trees. “But Nova does. She’s seen enough to know I’m right.”
I bristle at his mention of Nova. “You don’t know anything about her.”
“I know she carries fae blood. I know she’s been tracking the same energy signatures I have.” His voice drops. “And I know she’s the reason you’re still listening instead of trying to rip my throat out.”
Callum shifts position, ready to move if needed. I hold up a hand, stopping him.
“What do you want from us?” I ask Rafe.
“Fighters who won’t back down when it matters.” He holds my gaze. “I was Alpha once. I don’t want your pack. I want your help stopping what’s coming.”
“I’ve been tracking a pattern,” Rafe continues grimly.
“Disappearances in Drakoria that didn’t make sense until I started connecting bloodlines.
Faelan targets supernatural heritage with precision.
I was still gathering evidence when his trail led me here.
Your pack has more concentrated potential targets than he probably expected to find. ”
I don’t like the connection he’s drawing. Don’t like how easily he reads the situation. But I need information more than I need dominance right now.
“What happened to your pack?” I ask.
His expression doesn’t change, but something shutters behind his eyes. “They’re gone.”
Two words carrying the weight of an entire history I can’t access. Yet.
Rafe steps back, breaking the tension. “Your wolf on the northeast post should stay alert. Nova won’t stick to the expected path.”
Then he turns and walks away, back toward the lodge. Not asking permission. Not pushing boundaries. Just stating facts he shouldn’t know about territory that isn’t his.
The lodge door closes behind him. I stand alone at the edge of the compound. Still holding my ground. Still Alpha.
But rattled all the same.
I need to address the pack. The fractures aren’t healing on their own.
I head back inside. Three faces turn when I push through the door.
Ben stands by the window, back straight, eyes careful.
Marcus leans against the table, arms crossed tight over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps.
Callum stands behind a chair, knuckles white on its back, jaw set like concrete.
Not a pack meeting. Something smaller. A conversation that stopped the moment I walked in.
“You walked the ridge,” Marcus says. Not a question. An observation with teeth.
I nod once, taking the center of the room. Standing, not sitting. “Eastern quadrant’s clear.”
“And Nova?” Marcus asks.
“Checking her markers.” Half-truth. Better than nothing.
Ben’s gaze settles on my face, reading more than I want him to see. He says nothing, just watches with that quiet assessment that catches everything.
“The pack’s on edge,” Marcus continues, and there’s something careful in his tone now. Testing. “Since Phil showed up, since that woman—“
“Nova,” Ben corrects quietly.
”—walked in here,“ Marcus continues, “we’ve had fights break out over nothing. Lydia and Kade nearly went for each other’s throats on patrol yesterday.”
“Isolated incident,” I counter.
“Fourth this week.” Marcus uncrosses his arms, palms up—a gesture of concern rather than challenge. “I’m not questioning your judgment, Alpha. Just saying the pack needs reassurance. Clear direction.”
Ben shifts his weight slightly but stays silent.
“I’m handling it,” I say. Final, flat.
Marcus’s mouth thins. His scent says he wants to push further, but he holds the line. Barely.
The silence stretches, taut as a trip wire.
The door swings open without warning.
Kari steps in, shoulders squared, movements precise. Her face is carved from ice, but her scent wraps around her like smoke from a controlled burn.
Her eyes scan the room, cataloging faces, positions, alliances forming in real time. When she speaks, her voice carries without effort.
“Are we discussing security protocols? Good. I’ll save you time.” She stays near the door, doesn’t seek permission. “Why is that foreign wolf and his sidekick still inside our perimeter?”
My jaw tightens. “He brought intel—“
“Intel that we can’t verify,” she cuts in. “From a realm most of us have never heard of.”
Marcus straightens, interest piqued. “What realm?”
“Ask him,” Kari says, her focus locked on me. “Ask why a stranger with no pack ties gets full access while the rest of us run blind patrols.”
“We’re not blind,” I counter, keeping my voice level.
“No? What exactly is Ansel mapping when he wanders off alone?” Her gaze flicks to Ben. “Have you checked his routes? Or are we assuming he’s just getting fresh air?”
Ben’s expression doesn’t change, but his scent shifts—sharp, alert.
Callum steps forward. “Dane cleared their access.”
“Dane clears a lot these days,” Kari says. The air seems to be sucked out of the room. She turns back to me, and something in her eyes shifts. Gets colder. More precise. “While we’re cataloging risks, let’s discuss Nova.”
There it is. The name hangs between us like a challenge.
“What exactly does she know that we don’t?” Kari asks. “How much say does she have in patrol patterns? Border rotations? Your time?”
The room goes still. No one speaks. No one jumps to Nova’s defense.
“Careful,” I warn, my voice dropping an octave.
Kari doesn’t back down. “We’re hemorrhaging control. You’re making calls based on what? Her magic? Her scent?” She steps closer, voice lowered. “Your wolf’s reaction to her?”
It takes everything I have not to snarl. Not to grab her by the throat and force submission. Instead, I plant my feet and let my presence fill the room—Alpha energy, no quarter given.
“Nova’s intel is solid,” I say, each word carved from stone. “Rafe’s presence is tactical. And none of you will question either again.” I sweep my gaze across every face, marking the divide: those who hold my gaze and those who look away.
“We patrol in pairs from now on,” I continue. “Ben runs point on the eastern ridge. Marcus takes north with Callum. Ben, you make up the roster for the rest before you head out. Every report comes directly to me. No exceptions.”
Kari’s mouth thins, but she doesn’t push further. She’s made her point.
“Dismissed,” I say.
They file out one by one. Callum pauses at the door, looks back with quiet warning in his eyes. Then he’s gone.
I stand alone in the center of the room, breathing in the scents they left behind: doubt, fear, challenge.
My pack is fracturing, and the woman who might help me fix it is alone at the perimeter’s edge.
I need air. Need to think. Need space without these walls pressing in.
I head east. Just moving to burn off whatever this is—this coil of rage and something else that’s wrapped around my spine since Nova walked out.
The treeline welcomes me with shadows and silence.