Chapter 33
Dane
Nova’s body seizes, spine arching at an impossible angle. Her head snaps back so violently I hear vertebrae crack. The voice pouring from her throat isn’t hers anymore—it’s multiple voices layered in a grating, inhuman harmony.
The salt line fractures, hairline cracks spider-webbing outward from where her knees press into the earth. The runes she’d drawn bubble and smoke, burning black.
“Everyone back!” Lyanna shouts, her hands already weaving a counter-spell, fingers trailing green light.
Rafe steps forward, face grim. “We need to shut this down. Now.”
The wolves scramble back, some breaking ranks entirely, ready to bolt. They know death when they smell it. The air reeks of burning ozone and that wrong, oily magic that isn’t Nova’s.
I ignore all of them.
One more step brings me to the edge of the broken circle. Magic ripples across my skin like wildfire, trying to push me back, rejecting my presence. It burns cold then hot, needles of pain driving into every pore.
Nova’s body convulses again. Her eyes are open but clouded over with a milky film. Blood trickles from her nose, her ears. The foreign voice grows louder, drowning out whatever remains of her.
I don’t touch the circle. I don’t break it.
I just speak.
“Nova.”
The voices continue, but there’s a hitch. A stutter in the rhythm.
“Nova, come back to me.”
Her body stills for a fraction of a second.
“I’m right here.” My voice drops lower, for her alone. “You have to come back.”
Her eyes flicker—just once—clarity bleeding through the white film.
“I’m waiting for you. Right here.”
The foreign voices falter. A tremor runs through her body.
“Come back to me.”
The circle collapses with a sound like thunder.
Magic rushes outward in a violent blast, knocking several wolves off their feet.
Fire erupts from the center, shooting upward in a column before vanishing into smoke.
Wind whips through the clearing, carrying the scent of burned air and shattered magic.
Nova drops like a stone.
I move.
The circle where she knelt is now a crater of blackened soil, still smoking. Magic reeks in the air, sharp like a storm that just passed. No one breathes. No one crosses the invisible line she made.
I do.
Nova isn’t sprawled unconscious like I half expected.
She’s on her knees, one hand pressed into scorched earth, fingers curled into the dirt.
Her body shakes but doesn’t collapse. Her head hangs forward, hair spilling across her face in sweaty strands, but her spine stays straight—stubborn, always fucking stubborn.
I approach slowly. The pack behind me makes no sound, but I feel their tension ripple across the clearing.
Nova’s free hand lifts before I reach her—palm out, trembling but deliberate. I slow but don’t halt.
When I crouch in front of her, she finally lifts her head. Blood trails from her hairline down to her jaw. Her lips are cracked, pale. But her eyes find mine, clear and sharp. Whatever rode her body moments ago is gone.
I reach for her arm.
Her palm presses firmly against my chest, stopping me.
“Not yet,” she says, voice raw like she’s been screaming for hours. Maybe she has. “I’m not done.”
She takes a deep breath that rattles in her lungs. I stay where I am, letting her control this moment. Her magic has stripped something from her—energy, skin, something vital—but she’s still here. Still fighting.
When she tries to push to her feet, her legs buckle. I catch her elbow. She finds her balance, leaning into my grip without surrendering to it.
“Did you get what you needed?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She nods once, sharp. “Enough.”
We rise together. My hand stays at her elbow, my body angled to brace hers if needed. Her fingers dig into my forearm, not clinging but anchoring. She walks on her own power.
As we cross out of the burned circle, Lyanna steps back, giving us space. Rafe watches from the treeline, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The pack parts silently, eyes down, no one challenging what just happened.
We move toward my cabin, not fast but steady. Nova’s steps falter twice. Each time, I adjust, taking more of her weight without making her ask for it.
“I saw him,” she says finally, voice stronger now. “I know what he wants.”
I nod, not asking for more. Not yet. Right now, the only thing that matters is that she made it back.
She fought her way through whatever Faelan left inside her. And she won.
I push the cabin door open and let Nova walk in first. The space goes quiet around us, replacing the charged aftermath of what happened at the circle. She smells like burned magic and sweat—a sharp, metallic scent that clings to both of our skin.
Nova moves with careful precision, depleted but not broken. She crosses to the center of the room and turns, refusing to sit or collapse against anything. Her jaw is set in that stubborn line I’ve come to recognize.
I grab a water bottle from the counter and hold it out. “Drink.”
She takes it without argument, which tells me more about her condition than anything else could. She drinks half in a few long swallows, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
I grab a cloth from the counter, run it under the tap, and toss it to her.
She catches it one-handed and presses it against the blood at her hairline. For a moment, we just breathe. Let the silence settle.
Then I ask, “What did you see?”
Nova’s eyes lock onto mine. Clear now, focused. “He’s not trying to breach us. He’s already inside.”
My shoulders tighten. “How?”
“Through me. Through the wolves who went missing near the border, through the hikers.” She drops the rag on the table, blood-side down. “He didn’t want to take me. He wanted me to see.”
“See what?”
“His progress.” Her voice stays steady but thin, like a wire pulled too tight. “He’s not breaking the system. He’s rewiring it.”
I nod, letting each fact sink in without panic or denial. “The pack bonds.”
“Yes. Every wolf who’s been near those boundary points. He’s using them as conduits, tapping into their connections.”
“To what end?”
Nova looks at the wall for a beat. “To hijack your command structure. Turn Alpha authority into a weapon.”
The skin at the back of my neck prickles.
She continues, “He thinks I’m a key. Something about my blood signature. Half-fae, half-wolf. The ritual confirmed it for him.”
“And for you?”
“I know where he’s anchored now. Northern ridge, half-mile in.” She flexes her hands, still tinged with black residue. “I can find him.”
I process this, weighing options and consequences. There’s no time for half-measures or secrecy.
“We tell the pack,” I say. “Tonight.”
Nova hesitates, eyes calculating. Finally, she nods. “They need to know what they’re fighting.”
I move to the door and hold it open. Nova walks through, back straight despite everything her body just endured.
Together we step into the night, shoulder to shoulder.
Alpha and hunter, preparing for war.
The entire pack is already assembled when Nova and I enter the lodge.
All twelve of them—Callum and Ben by the far wall, arms crossed, faces tight.
Kari near the window, eyes tracking every movement.
Harper by the doorway, hands steady but shoulders tense.
Marcus and Derek clustered near the back.
Wyatt, Mateo, Reyna, Torres, Elena. Even Kevin has stepped away from the kitchen.
They smell the residual magic on Nova. See the blood still crusting at her hairline. No one asks what happened at the circle. They’ve been waiting to find out.
Rafe lingers in the corner. I nod toward him. “You too.”
He moves forward without argument.
Lyanna enters last, smelling of fresh herbs and protective spells. She closes the door behind her with a soft click.
“We knew Faelan was inside Ash Hollow,” I start, voice even. “What we didn’t know was how deep the infection ran.”
I plant my feet, let my gaze touch each face in the room.
“The aggression you’ve been feeling. The tension. The moments where pack bonds feel wrong or fractured. None of it is random. And it’s not just manipulation through Marcus or secret meetings.”
I pause, letting that sink in.
“He’s been using our pack bonds as conduits.”
The room goes still. Not confusion—dawning horror.
Nova steps forward. Her voice is raw but steady. “When the hikers disappeared, when Jensen and Tomas and Kira went missing near the boundary—he wasn’t just taking them. He was tagging them. Creating access points into your network.”
She looks at each face in turn, no softness in her assessment.
“I saw how he moves through wolves. He’s not breaking your structure from the outside. He’s rewiring it from within. Every bond you share with each other—he’s threaded himself into it.”
“For what?” Ben asks.
“Control,” Nova answers. “He doesn’t need to kill you. He just needs you to stop trusting each other. And the more you fight among yourselves, the stronger his hold becomes.”
The room absorbs this truth without panic. These aren’t civilians. They’re soldiers who’ve been fighting blind and just learned exactly how the enemy has been playing them.
Kari’s jaw tightens. “How do we cut him out?”
“We don’t. We go to him.” I cut off questions before they start. “Nova tracked his anchor point. Northern ridge, half a mile in from the boundary line. He’s been using the elevated position to amplify his connection to the network he’s built.”
“I can find the exact spot,” Nova adds. “His signature is burned into my senses now. He can’t hide from me.”
“We move at dawn,” I say. “This ends now.”
The pack looks to me—not with doubt or fear. With certainty and readiness. Whatever fractures Faelan created, this moment seals them shut.
Ben nods once, already calculating logistics. Callum shifts his weight, combat-ready. Kari’s shoulders set in that familiar, lethal line.
“Patrol teams double up tonight. No one moves alone. No one leaves the compound without a partner.” I scan the room. “Questions?”
Silence. Not the tense silence of dissent—the focused silence of wolves preparing for war.
“Get some rest. We strike at first light.”
They disperse without argument. No question of command now, no fracture lines.
Nova stands by the window, watching night shadows slowly take over the yard. Her profile cuts sharply against the glass, all angles and intent.
“You ready for this?”
She turns, that violet gaze steady on mine. “He thinks I’m still his key. His puppet.” A cold smile crosses her face. “He won’t see me coming as a weapon.”
Her certainty isn’t bravado. It’s a promise.
And that’s exactly how we want it.