Chapter 22
Dane
Morning light hits the treeline. I’ve been at my post outside the cabin for eight hours—not my longest watch, not even close. My body knows how to lock down, conserve energy. Back when I was Viktor’s hunter, I once held position for twenty-two hours without moving.
But this is different. This watch is personal.
Movement at the edge of the compound catches my attention—a vehicle pulling up outside the gate. Not a threat based on the engine signature. One of ours.
I straighten, roll my shoulders once, and step away from the cabin. Wolves need to see me in control, not hovering like some anxious pup.
Harper Callahan steps out, her copper-brown hair pulled back in a practical braid. She moves with purpose, a leather messenger bag slung across her body.
Something in Harper’s carriage reminds me of her brother, Liam—confident without trying to be.
“Dane,” she says with a nod.
“Harper.” I match her tone. “More supplies?”
“Caleb sent me.” She glances around the compound, feeling, no doubt, the tension in the air. “He heard about the ... event.”
Fuck. News travels fast. I left Shadow Peak to build something on my own, not to have Caleb tracking every fire we put out … Or don’t put out.
Harper’s gaze turns analytical as she catalogs the wolves milling around. They’re trying to appear busy, but they’re watching us. Listening. Testing the air.
Ben emerges from the barracks, stops cold when he sees her. For half a second, something flashes across his face—recognition, hunger, regret. Then the mask slips back in place. He nods once and keeps walking, but his path curves slightly away from us.
Harper watches him go, her expression unchanged. But her pulse jumps—just once.
“Caleb thought these might help.” She unslings her bag and hands me a thick envelope. “Support packages. Funding. Access codes for a bank account if you need it.”
I flip through the contents. Cash. Credentials. Territory permits stamped with Shadow Peak’s brand, officially signing Ash Hollow territory to us.
The last time Harper came, two weeks ago, her truck was loaded with crates—medical supplies that Lyanna inventoried immediately, dried goods that filled our empty pantry, ammunition we may not use but it’s good to have. Physical resources we desperately need but can’t yet produce ourselves.
This time, she’s brought something different. The means to stand on our own feet.
Caleb didn’t just send supplies. He sent legitimacy—and now, independence.
With Phil’s—Faelan’s—influence still lingering, my authority has been under invisible pressure. But none of the wolves would dare question Shadow Peak’s backing.
“Tell him I appreciate it.” The words come out stiff. Not because I don’t mean them, but because saying them aloud feels like revealing too much.
Harper nods, understanding more than I’m saying. “There’s more. Three additional hikers disappeared around Silver Lake last night—on top of the five we’ve been tracking. Same signature as what you traced before the...” She pauses, searching for words. “Before the distortion took her.”
My jaw tightens. “How’s Caleb handling it?”
“Border patrols. Energy dampeners.” She shrugs. “But he needs someone who understands the pattern. Isla and Elysia know that it’s Fae in origin but don’t know much more than that.”
The cabin door opens behind me.
Nova stands in the doorway, pale but upright. Her dark hair falls loose around her shoulders, and there’s a new sharpness in her eyes. Lyanna hovers behind her, concerned but keeping her distance.
“I understand the pattern,” Nova says.
Harper turns, studies her with that same calm assessment. “Nova.”
Nova nods once, then takes three deliberate steps toward me. Her scent hits me first, and I feel a tightness in my chest.
Each step brings her closer to my wolf’s range, and I catalog the details without meaning to.
The way morning light catches the charcoal of her hair, bringing out those violet undertones that shift with her movement.
How her pale skin still carries a flush from sleep and healing.
Her eyes hold mine, steady and determined, those gold flecks catching fire in the dawn.
She moves with that fluid grace that first caught my attention, but there’s something different now. Purpose in every line of her body. Her scent wraps around me, stronger than before—that electric edge of magic mixed with something that speaks directly to my wolf.
When she stops in front of me, the space between us charges with electricity. I can feel the heat radiating from her skin, see the steady pulse at the base of her throat. Her chin tilts up slightly to meet my gaze, and something fierce and possessive unfurls in my chest.
Before I can process what’s happening, she reaches up, presses her palm against my jaw, and kisses me.
It lasts three seconds, maybe four. Her lips firm against mine, her fingers against my skin. Then she steps back, turns to Harper.
“I’ll need to see the coordinates,” she says, voice steady.
I don’t move. Don’t react. Just recalibrate everything around the fact that she just claimed me in front of the pack.
It shakes me more than seeing her disappear into that rift.
Marcus holds his position, face unreadable except for a single twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Fucking great.
Harper studies Nova with a calm, quiet weight.
“The pattern’s shifting,” Nova says, as if she didn’t just lay claim to me. “Same signature Caleb’s team tracked near Silverwood. If we don’t move fast, we’ll lose it.”
Harper nods. “Eight disappearances now. The original five—Jessica and Mark, plus Jensen, Kira, and Tomas. These three new ones bring the total to eight. All in the same zone. I’ve marked the coordinates.”
She hands over a folded map. Nova spreads it across a table. Lyanna joins her. Then Kari. Four women focused on the data, heads bent together. No one else tries to join.
“Here, here, and here,” Harper says, pointing.
“It’s a compression sequence,” Nova answers. “Fae hunting pattern. Herds its targets inward.”
“And something’s waiting at the center,” Lyanna adds. “It’s ... resonating.”
“With her,” Kari says. It isn’t a question.
Nova nods once. “He’s working off my signature.”
My hands tighten around nothing. She delivers the intel like it’s just facts. Like it’s not her body that paid for it.
I don’t interrupt. I don’t react.
She doesn’t look at me again.
The kiss sits between us like a landmine. She dropped it. Walked away. And hasn’t looked back.
I turn to the wolves still watching. “Back to your posts.”
They scatter.
Ben moves to coordinate supply runs. Lyanna murmurs something low to Nova about protective wards.
The four women stay locked on the map, discussing trajectories and energy signatures. I hang back, monitoring the compound—wolves carrying supplies, checking armor, continuing our work to make the existing buildings into a living space. Normal tasks performed with abnormal tension.
“The compression pattern mimics a spiral,” Nova says, finger tracing the points. “Each disappearance creates a vortex that pulls toward the center.”
“Like a funnel,” Harper adds. Her analytical gaze never wavers from the map. “Same as what happened at Shadow Peak’s eastern border last month.”
Kari leans in, arms crossed. “And what’s waiting in the middle? Another distortion like the one that almost ...” She glances at Nova, something shifting in her eyes. Not quite concern. More like recognition. “Like the one that nearly consumed you yesterday.”
Nova doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pause. Just nods once. “Similar signature. Different intention.”
Her right hand trembles—just once, just slightly—as she points to the central coordinate. Most wouldn’t notice. I do.
The tremor matches the pulse I felt through her skin when I dragged her back through the collapsing field. The moment her body struggled to decide which reality to keep.
“Silverwood sits at the convergence point,” Lyanna says. “These disappearances form an outer ring around the town. If it continues, the next victims will be closer to Main Street.”
“We need to get to Silverwood,” Nova says. Her tone stays flat. Clinical. But her scent spikes with something sharp and metallic.
Harper nods. “Shadow Peak could provide backup, but they wouldn’t understand what we’re looking for. We need someone who’s experienced it firsthand.”
The women all look at Nova. She straightens, squares her shoulders.
“I’ll go,” she says.
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t check for approval or permission.
Good. I wouldn’t give it.
Not because I doubt her capability, but because I know exactly what happens when Nova enters a field designed to resonate with her signature. I felt it break her apart at the molecular level. Heard the sound her body made when reality tried to absorb her.
My hands still ache from how hard I gripped her to keep her tethered.
But I say nothing. Not here. Not with witnesses tracking every micro-expression.
“We leave at dawn,” I say instead. Simple. Final.
After the map is rolled up and the others drift back to their cabins, Nova finally looks at me. Not a glance—looks. Full-on eye contact. Meant to land.
“We leave at dawn,” she repeats softly. “But I’m sleeping in my own space tonight.”
I don’t ask why. Don’t push. Just give a small nod.
“Lyanna’s giving me something for the aftermath. I’ll be fine.” She pauses. “You should rest too.”
“I will.” A lie.
She hesitates, eyes searching mine for something. Then: “Thank you. For what you did. Back there.”
“Don’t thank me for that,” I say. “Just come back next time on your own two feet.”
A flicker of amusement crosses her face—just for a second. Then she turns and walks toward the far cabin, Lyanna falling in step behind her with a whispered chant and a protective circle of herbs already in hand.
The women disperse. Harper heads toward her vehicle with Kari to discuss transport logistics.
Ben approaches from the side, purposefully making enough noise that I know he’s coming. He obviously waited until Harper was out of sight.
“The Silverwood team,” I tell him. “You, me, Callum, Wyatt, and Reyna. First light tomorrow.”
He raises an eyebrow. “All of us? For a town run?”
“The women are investigating a possible disappearance. We need some supplies anyway.” I keep my voice neutral, but Ben catches my meaning.
“You think that convergence is active. Ready to take someone else.”
“I think I’m not letting them walk into one alone.”
My voice stays steady. My posture remains Alpha-solid. But my awareness narrows to Nova at the edge of my periphery. To the slight hitch in her breathing pattern. To the careful way she moves, like something inside her hasn’t fully reconnected.
I stand in my yard. I give my orders. I maintain control.
And I watch the woman who just claimed me prepare to walk straight back into the fire that nearly burned her out of existence.
The lodge has gone quiet—most of the pack finishing their prep work for tomorrow’s mission. I step onto the porch, scanning the perimeter one last time. Everything looks normal, except it’s not. The energy signature from Caleb’s report worries me more than I let on.
A light footstep catches my attention. Harper approaches from the guest cabin, her steps deliberate—not sneaking, but not announcing herself either.
“Alpha.” She stops at the bottom of the steps, maintaining a respectful distance.
“Harper.” I nod, noting the tension in her shoulders. “I assumed you’d head back to Shadow Peak with the intel.”
“Actually,” she says, “I was hoping I could stay here. At Ash Hollow.”
I study her carefully. Her posture is steady, but there’s an undercurrent to her scent—something sharp and determined.
“For how long?”
“A few weeks? Maybe longer.” She shifts her weight. “I want to contribute. Whatever the pack needs.”
Her heart rate picks up slightly. She’s telling a partial truth.
“Why here?” I ask, although I think I know the answer. But does she? “Can’t Caleb use you as well?”
Harper hesitates, looking past me toward the barracks where Ben disappeared hours ago.
“I have skills that could be useful,” she says finally. “Shadow Peak is ... stable. Here, I could make a difference.”
The excuse is paper-thin, and we both know it.
“Ben’s not the same man you remember,” I say. “And you already know that.”
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t deny it. Just nods once.
“I know.”
I consider her. Not just what she’s saying, but what she’s leaving out. Harper isn’t impulsive. She wouldn’t leave the security of Shadow Peak on a whim. She came prepared—bag packed, documents ready. And she’s a formidable warrior, thanks to Sasha’s rigorous training program.
Ash Hollow isn’t a refuge. Most of my wolves are here because they don’t fit anywhere else. We’re the pack built on scar tissue.
“You stay—you contribute,” I tell her. “We could use a Pack Coordinator. Ben handles internal operations, but we need someone managing supply runs to Silverwood, coordinating schedules between patrol teams, and handling logistics with Shadow Peak. But you also fight when the line breaks. You do what needs to be done. No one here gets to stand still.”
She meets my gaze steadily. “I understand.”
“The cabin next to Lyanna’s is empty. Basic amenities. You’ll need to secure it yourself.”
“Thank you.” She turns to leave.
“Harper.” She pauses. “This place doesn’t offer comfort. It offers consequences. Remember that.”
She gives me a small, almost sad smile. “I’m not looking for comfort.”
I watch her walk toward the empty cabin, her steps sure despite the darkening grounds. Something tells me Harper Callahan knew exactly what she was walking into.
I finish my circuit of the perimeter, checking sight lines and guard positions. Everything secure. The wind shifts, bringing with it Nova’s scent from the darkened cabin at the edge of the compound.
Her cabin. Not mine. She insisted on returning to her own space tonight. Logical choice. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I pause, listening. Her breathing is even, sleep-steady. She needs the rest.
I don’t approach. Just stand for a moment, marking her location, making sure she’s still there. If she were in my cabin, I could monitor her recovery without these perimeter checks. Keep watch while she sleeps.
Then I turn back toward the compound. Tomorrow comes early, and Silverwood waits.