Chapter 17
Nova
Ijerk awake before dawn, my body reacting before my mind catches up. Something’s wrong.
The air feels dense, like before a thunderstorm—but there’s no humidity, no clouds. Just pressure building against my skull.
I sit up, scanning the dark cabin. Nothing moved. No one’s been here. But something pulled me from sleep as effectively as a hand around my throat.
I dress quickly—boots, dark pants, layered shirts. The knife goes in my boot. The obsidian blade in its thigh sheath.
Outside, the compound sleeps. A lone guard watches from the mess hall roof, but he doesn’t notice me slipping between shadows. I’ve gotten good at working around Dane’s surveillance.
The eastern boundary calls to me. That’s where I’ve set most of my markers—small detection spells disguised as natural objects. Nothing flashy. Nothing that screams “fae.” Just river stones marked with my sigil, buried at strategic points.
The forest feels wrong. Too quiet. No pre-dawn birds. No rustling. The trees stand unnaturally still, as if holding their breath.
I retrieve the first marker—a smooth gray stone near the creek bend. It’s warm to the touch. Vibrating slightly.
Not good.
Moving quickly, I check three more markers. Each one thrums with the same disturbed energy. The land itself is straining, like tectonic plates shifting underfoot.
“You feel it too.”
I don’t startle at Lyanna’s voice. I sensed her following me for the last ten minutes.
“It’s early,” I say, not turning around. “The calculations said forty-eight hours minimum.”
Lyanna steps beside me, her bare feet silent on the forest floor. She’s wrapped in a shawl that smells of protection herbs—sage and rosemary and something older.
“The energy’s off-pattern,” she says quietly. “If it shifts again like this, we won’t have a warning. Just fallout.”
I nod, my fingers closing around the stone. Its vibration matches the one building behind my ribs—steady, insistent.
“Your wards?” I ask.
“Holding. But responding.” She glances toward the eastern ridge. “They shouldn’t be this reactive yet.”
A sharp pain lances through my temple. I wince, pressing my fingers against the spot.
“You’re getting pressure headaches,” Lyanna observes.
“Started yesterday. Getting worse.”
She doesn’t offer sympathy. Doesn’t suggest rest, herbs, or magic. She understands what this is.
“The energy displacement is responding to proximity,” she says.
“To me,” I correct her.
Our eyes meet in the gray pre-dawn light. No point dancing around it.
“Yes,” she agrees. “To you.”
I pocket the stone and stand. “I should check the northern markers.”
“You should tell Dane.”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Not until I have more than a headache and some warm rocks.”
I take two steps toward the northern markers when the detection stone flares hot again—different heat this time. Sharper. I pull it from my pocket. The violet glow pulses in aggressive spikes—not the steady thrum of land magic. This is emotional manipulation. Fresh.
“What now?” Lyanna asks, watching the stone’s pattern.
I turn slowly, following its pull. Not toward the boundary anomalies. Back toward the compound.
“Faelan’s been inside the compound.” I watch the spikes intensify as I angle toward Ash Hollow. “Not just at the borders. Meeting with wolves directly.”
“You’re certain?”
“Within the last twelve hours.” The stone burns my palm. “This isn’t residue. It’s active manipulation signature. He’s not just visiting—he’s working them.”
Lyanna’s face goes cold. “Dane needs to know.”
“He might already suspect.” I pocket the stone. “But suspicion isn’t proof. And without proof, confronting Marcus—or whoever Phil’s been targeting—just drives the wedge deeper.”
Lyanna doesn’t argue, but her expression says everything: This isn’t paranoia. This is ground truth.
The forest shivers around us—a tremor so subtle I might have missed it if I weren’t looking. The trees don’t move. The ground doesn’t shake. But something ripples through the air like a stone dropped in still water.
I feel it in my bones. In my blood. In the space behind my eyes, where the pressure builds.
“How long do we have?” Lyanna asks.
I stare at the eastern horizon where the first hint of dawn bleeds into the sky. “Not the forty-eight hours we thought we had.”
It’s not waiting to tear open.
It’s syncing to me.
Tighter. Closer. Hungrier.
I retrieve two more markers from their hiding spots—river stones I’d buried along the ridge. Their energy pulses faster than the first ones. Not generic disturbances. Specific. Targeted. Resonating with me.
“The pattern’s shifting,” I tell Lyanna, trying to keep my voice steady. “Field distortion’s accelerating.”
I move to another marker—this one hidden in a fallen log. The stone practically jumps into my palm, hot enough that I almost drop it.
“How many markers did you place?” Lyanna asks, following a few steps behind.
“Seventeen. Along both ridgelines and the valley floor.” I press my thumb to the stone’s surface, reading its signature. “The eastern ones are the most reactive.”
“And they’re all responding to your proximity?”
I nod. “But it’s not just that.” I wave her back as I step forward alone. The air thickens around me—not physically, but energetically. Like walking through invisible spider webs that stick to my skin.
“The net tension increases when I move east,” I explain. “But it’s not just directional. It’s ...” I hesitate, not wanting to say it out loud.
“Intentional,” Lyanna finishes.
“Yes.”
I climb higher up the ridge, checking two more markers. Each one confirms what I already suspect: The field isn’t responding to random magic. It’s responding to me—to my movements, my breath, my pulse.
To Dane.
The thought intrudes without permission. Heat flashes across my skin as fragments from last night surface—his mouth on mine, hands gripping my waist, the low growl that vibrated through his chest into mine.
I push the memory away, but the damage is done. The stone in my hand pulses faster, matching my heartbeat.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“What is it?” Lyanna calls from below.
“Nothing.” I pocket the stone. “I need to check the northern perimeter.”
“Okay, I’m going to follow this line south. Call me on your comm if you need me.”
As I turn north, a figure emerges from the treeline. Rafe. His presence is substantial but silent—he doesn’t make a sound as he approaches.
“You feel it,” he says.
“Yes.”
His gaze is steady, analytical. “When did it start syncing to you specifically?”
“Last night,” I admit. “Maybe earlier.”
He nods, as if confirming a theory. “The field distortion isn’t random anymore. It’s tracking your energy signature.”
My jaw tightens. “I’m being careful with my markers.”
“It’s not the markers.” His eyes drift to my neck, where I know a faint bruise marks Dane’s touch. “It’s what happened between you and the Alpha.”
The air seems to thicken between us.
“Nothing happened,” I say. The words taste false even as I speak them.
“Enough happened,” Rafe counters. “And Faelan felt it. The connection opened a channel.”
“How?” I demand. “I’ve been shielding.”
“Physical bonds override shields. So do emotional ones.” His voice remains neutral, clinical. “He doesn’t need to be here to pull you. Not if you’re syncing yourself for him.”
The truth burns. Some part of me did this.
Rafe watches the realization cross my face. His next words land like stones:
“If he’s adapting to you, the timing’s broken. You won’t see the next one coming.”
Rafe’s words hang between us, heavy and final.
“If he’s syncing to me—“ I start to say, but Rafe’s attention shifts suddenly to something behind me. His posture changes instantly—spine straight, shoulders set. Respectful but wary.
I turn.
Dane stands twenty feet away, half-shadowed by dawn light filtering through the trees. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches us with those steel-gray eyes that miss nothing.
“Alpha,” Rafe acknowledges with a slight nod.
Dane ignores him completely. His focus locked on me. “What’s happening?” His voice is dangerously soft.
“Perimeter check,” I answer, keeping my tone neutral.
“Try again.”
I meet his stare directly. “The energy distortion is accelerating. My markers are reacting faster than predicted.”
He steps forward, eliminating half the distance between us. “And you weren’t going to tell me.”
It’s not a question. His certainty scrapes against my nerves.
“I needed data first.”
“Bullshit.” Another step closer.
Rafe clears his throat. “I spotted movement near the creek.” He retreats down the ridge without waiting for permission, leaving us alone in the tense morning light.
I stand my ground as Dane moves into my space—close enough that I catch his scent. Pine. Earth. Alpha. The memory of his hands on my skin flickers unbidden.
The stone in my pocket pulses faster.
“You’re not doing this alone anymore,” he says. His voice drops lower, the kind of quiet that commands more attention than shouting ever could.
I narrow my eyes. “I work better alone.”
“Not an option.”
I step back. He steps forward.
“This isn’t a pack issue,” I say. “He’s tracking me specifically. My energy signature.”
“Then I’m with you specifically.”
His statement stops me cold.
“You don’t get it,” I push back, anger rising. “Your presence makes it worse. Any strong emotional connection amplifies the signature.”
Something shifts in his expression.
“So that’s why you keep walking away.” He closes the remaining distance, invading my space completely. “After every time we touch.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I’m trying to protect you. Your pack.”
“I don’t need protection.” His hand comes up, fingers grazing my jaw with unexpected gentleness. “I need you to stop running.”
I jerk away from his touch. Not because it burns—because it doesn’t. Because every cell in my body wants to lean into it, and that’s exactly the problem.
“This isn’t about us.”
“It’s exactly about us.” He doesn’t reach for me again, but his stance blocks my retreat. “You’re not walking into this alone.”
“You don’t get to decide—“
“Already did.”
The air between us crackles with tension. His eyes never leave mine—challenging, demanding. This isn’t the controlled Alpha from the compound. This is pure dominance. Raw command.
I should step back. Create distance. Break whatever this is before it breaks me.
Instead, I surge forward.
The space between us evaporates. Heat radiates from his body, his scent wrapping around me like a drug, making my pulse stutter and race.
Every rational thought screams at me to stop, but my body moves on pure instinct. Hunger I’ve been fighting for days breaks free.
My mouth finds his with bruising force. I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, teeth scraping against his lower lip.
He responds instantly. One hand tangles in my hair, gripping hard enough to sting. The other splays across my lower back, pressing me against him. His kiss is punishing—all teeth and possession.
This is pure hunger and claim and the dangerous edge of restraint about to snap.
The stone in my pocket burns hot against my leg. Responding to every spike in my pulse.
I break away, breathing hard. “We can’t.”
His hand remains in my hair, keeping me close. “We already are.”
I push against his chest. This time, he lets me go—physically. But his eyes say he’s not letting me walk away. Not again.
“I need to check the northern markers,” I say, retreating a step.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
I turn without answering.
The forest shifts behind me, the pattern tightening with every step.
Faelan built this net to catch emotion.
And I just gave it something to chase.