Chapter 21
Dane
Istand up slowly. My body catalogs damage automatically: torn muscle in my left shoulder; three cracked ribs; deep laceration across my forearm, and one on my jaw. All of it healing already.
None of it matters.
What matters is her breathing—steady now. Even. The color returns to her face as she drifts into sleep. Her magic still sparks visibly under her skin, little flashes of violet that shouldn’t be visible to anyone but her.
I should leave her to rest. Let Lyanna finish what she started.
Instead, I find myself counting heartbeats. Hers, not mine. Tracking the rhythm until I’m sure it’s stable.
That should be enough. But it’s not.
I still see the moment she stopped fighting. Still smell what that place did to her. Still feel the weight of her body when I activated that slip coin—when her muscles went slack and I thought ...
Doesn’t matter what I thought. She’s here. She’s whole.
I force myself to turn away. Grabbing a clean shirt, I absently pull it over my head.
Each step toward the door feels wrong, like leaving a kill unfinished. But I can’t stay. The pack is waiting. Questions need answers. Posturing needs to be cut off at the neck.
Behind me, Nova shifts on the bed. A soft exhale that I shouldn’t register from this distance, but somehow cuts through everything else.
I pull the door open and step outside, leaving it cracked just enough to hear if she calls out.
The compound hits me like a wall of sound—heartbeats, breathing, whispers. All of it too loud after the silence of the cabin. The pack has gathered in loose formation, wolves positioned strategically around the clearing.
Blood scents the air. Mine. Nova’s. And something else—the sharp tang of challenge.
s steps forward, his stance rigid. “Need to talk.” Not a request. His eyes flick to the open door behind me, to the blood on my clothes. “What happened out there?”
The rest of the pack tenses. They’re waiting to see if I’ll bother to explain myself. If I’ll acknowledge their fear. Their doubt.
I should answer. Should pull rank, establish order. But my body isn’t cooperating. Instead of words, I feel my muscles coiling tight, instincts shifting from defense to offense.
My wolf rises close to the surface, wanting to meet challenge with dominance. With teeth.
I force him down. Hold Marcus’s gaze without speaking. Let the silence stretch until discomfort ripples through the gathered wolves.
This isn’t the time. Not with my hands still stained with her blood. Not with the feeling of her going limp in my arms still burned into my muscles.
The pack shifts uneasily. No one backs down. No one steps closer. They’re waiting—all of them—to see which way I’ll break.
I won’t break at all.
“Dane.” Marcus takes another step forward. “Nova hasn’t been straight with us since day one. Now she’s half-dead, you’re bleeding, and we deserve to know what we’re facing.”
I don’t move. Don’t shift my weight. Don’t let my hand drift toward my knife. The pack watches, waiting for my reaction, their scents mingling with the copper tang of blood still fresh on my clothes.
“She followed the signature,” I say, keeping my voice flat. “And it opened under her.”
“And almost died for it,” Marcus counters, his shoulders squaring. “She compromised the pack’s security—“
“She secured it.”
Marcus’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath his stubbled skin. “She strolled out like she always does—and came back half-dead in your arms. Covered in blood. You expect us to ignore that? The pack needs answers, not blind faith.”
“She came back.” My voice cuts through his, sharp enough to make several wolves flinch. “She faced something none of you could have. And she walked out of it.”
I let that land before I finish: “That’s all you need to know right now.”
The clearing goes still. Some wolves look away. Others hold their ground, scents sharpening with doubt, eyes tracking between Marcus and me like they’re counting the seconds until one of us breaks.
Marcus crosses his arms, his stance widening. Ben takes a half-step forward, positioning himself at my right flank.
“This isn’t just about tonight,” Marcus says, his voice lower but no less challenging. “This isn’t Shadow Peak. This isn’t Storm Ridge. We built something different here. Something where the Alpha doesn’t just decide what information we deserve.”
“Ash Hollow stands because we follow orders,” Kari’s voice slices through the tension as she steps into the circle. Not beside me. Not against me. Just between. Her auburn braid swings against her back as she moves.
Her posture is rigid, her eyes sweeping the gathered wolves. “You want explanations? Fine. Nova tracked the signature while we sat here arguing. She pinpointed it while we played politics.” Her gaze locks on Marcus. “And she survived it. Which means we have information we didn’t have yesterday.”
She turns to face the pack head-on. “Challenge the Alpha after we secure the territory. Not while we’re still bleeding. Not while whatever attacked Nova might come for us next.”
The murmurs die down. Wolves exchange glances, scents shifting from aggression to unease. Then resignation. Lyanna steps back, pulling a younger wolf with her. Ben remains where he is, a silent barrier between the pack and me.
“The priority is securing our borders,” I say, breaking the silence. “Nova risked herself to get us critical information. When she’s stable, we’ll discuss what she found.”
No one speaks after that. No one needs to.
Marcus holds my gaze for three more heartbeats before nodding once. Short. Tight.
“Post double guards tonight,” Callum says. “I’ll take first rotation.”
It’s enough. For now. But the challenge isn’t over—just postponed until Nova wakes up. If she wakes up.
I turn away from the pack—not dismissing them, but setting priorities. Patrol comes first. Always has. The clearing empties slowly, wolves breaking into groups, heads bent in conversation. Let them talk. As long as they work.
I put my jacket on and move toward the perimeter.
My boots crunch gravel as I head south. Blood seeps steadily from the gash on my forearm. I should wrap it. Later.
The compound fades behind me. Trees thicken. Darkness swallows sound. Better.
I breathe in forest scents: wet earth, pine, decaying leaves. No sulfur. No distortion. No magic burn. Just clean air and regular darkness. I keep moving.
My side throbs with each step. Ribs, healing. Not important. What matters is the perimeter. What matters is making sure nothing follows us back. What matters is—
“Your arm’s still bleeding.”
Ben materializes from the shadows, walking the ridge line fifteen feet to my left. His movement is silent, deliberate. Nothing like the thundering approach most wolves use.
I don’t slow down. Neither does he.
“I’ll wrap it after patrol.”
Ben falls into step beside me, close enough for backup, far enough for maneuverability. His gaze sweeps the treeline, cataloging details I already noted.
“Signature’s fading,” Ben says. “But the unstable zones are spreading. Three new spots since yesterday.”
I map that information against what I saw inside the collapse. “She said it would accelerate.”
“You believe her.”
I keep walking, scanning the underbrush, listening for sounds that don’t belong.
“She was right about the instability pattern. Right about Faelan. Right about the anchor points.”
Ben doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is measured. “The pack’s unsteady. They need certainty.”
“They need results.”
“They need their Alpha functioning.” Ben’s eyes flick to my arm. Blood has soaked through my sleeve, spreading dark across the jacket. “And not compromised.”
I stop walking. Not because he’s crossed a line, but because he hasn’t. He’s assessing tactical vulnerabilities. Same as I would.
“I’m clear-headed.”
“You’re bleeding out while Nova sleeps it off.” Ben keeps his voice neutral. “That doesn’t look like protocol.”
“Protocol went out the window when she identified the signature threat.”
“And you followed her into it.” Ben’s eyes stay on the perimeter, not on me. “The pack needs to know why.”
I go still. .
Ben’s mouth twitches—not quite a smile. “You told us she followed the signature and it opened under her. But you never said how you found her.” His gaze flicks to me briefly. “Either you tracked her for miles through impossible terrain or you were already there when she fell.”
I cross my arms. Damn observant bastard.
“It was tactical,” I say, voice clipped. “We can’t afford to lose the only person who understands these portals.”
Ben doesn’t respond immediately. Just watches the treeline, giving me the silence to fill.
I don’t.
“Tactical,” he repeats finally. “Good. Because we need an Alpha who makes decisions with his head, not his—“ He stops himself. “Just keep it that way.”
The unspoken accusation hangs between us. If the bond’s compromised my judgment. If I’d choose her over the pack.
“I know what I’m doing, Ben.”
“Sure.” He shifts his stance. “Because we can handle a lot of shit, but an Alpha with divided loyalties isn’t one of them.”
He’s right. And it stings because he’s the last person who should have to remind me what divided loyalty costs.
I resume walking, pushing away the image of Nova’s body going slack in my arms. The weight of her against my chest. The terror that came with it.
“What I feel is irrelevant. What she knows isn’t.” My voice comes out harder than intended. “She’s the only one who’s touched that energy and survived. That makes her an asset.”
Ben doesn’t argue. He’s made his point clear: The pack is watching. And whatever’s happening between Nova and me isn’t as private as I’d like to believe.
We complete the patrol in silence. No breaches. No signatures. No immediate threats. The forest breathes around us, indifferent to our presence.
When we reach the main cabin, Ben peels off without comment. No goodbyes. No reassurance. Just a nod and three strides toward the barracks.
I stand alone by the cabin door. Listen. Her breathing is steady behind the wood. Even. Deep. I don’t go in.
Lyanna’s inside. I trust her to stabilize the magic. But if anything else comes for Nova—
It goes through me first.
Standing outside, I lean back against the rough-hewn logs of the cabin. The night has deepened, draped itself across the compound like a shroud. Silent enough to hear each breath that passes through the walls. Hers. Lyanna’s. Rhythmic. Uneven.
My job is simple: stand guard. The pack knows not to approach. Something in my scent must be off—raw—because even the wolves who questioned me earlier give the cabin a wide berth now.
Good. I don’t have words for them anyway.
The forest stretches out beyond the clearing, trees standing sentinel in the darkness. Nothing moves. Nothing threatens. For the moment, we’re secure.
I should be planning. Strategizing. The pack needs reassurance. The territory needs reinforcement. Patrols need reorganizing.
Instead, I’m counting her breaths.
There—a hitch in the pattern. A soft groan. The scent of pain spikes through the cracks in the doorframe. Lyanna murmurs something too low to catch. Glass clinks against wood. The scrape of her stool as she shifts position.
I don’t move. Don’t turn. Don’t push the door open to see for myself.
This is Lyanna’s domain now. Magic and healing. Things I can’t control.
My hand curls into a fist at my side. Not to feel strong. Just to feel something besides the phantom weight of Nova’s body. The moment I thought—
No.
“It doesn’t fucking get you,” I’d told her when I dragged her out of that distortion.
I don’t pace. Don’t exhale. Won’t let myself feel what I almost lost. Loss isn’t a luxury an Alpha can afford. Not when the pack is watching. Not when the territory is still bleeding magic at the edges. Not when every wolf in Ash Hollow is looking to me for answers I don’t have.
Another clink of glass inside. Lyanna’s voice, gentle but firm. The rustle of fabric.
The door creaks open six inches. Lyanna’s face appears, framed by honey-colored hair now loose around her shoulders. Her eyes are tired, but calm.
“She’s stabilizing,” she says simply. “The worst has passed.”
I nod once.
Lyanna studies me a moment longer than necessary. Something shifts in her expression.
“You should rest,” she adds. “I’ll stay with her.”
I don’t answer. We both know I’m not leaving.
Lyanna nods and disappears back inside, leaving the door cracked. The scent of blood and magic drifts out, mingled with crushed herbs and Nova’s underlying signature—bright, wild, defiant.
She’s breathing. So I can stand still.