CHAPTER 3 – THE STRANGER IN THE WOODS
The forest starts calling before I make the decision to go.
It begins as a whisper beneath my skin. A restless pull that won’t quiet, no matter how long I sit still, no matter how many times I tell myself to ignore it.
Stay.
Be still. Be good.
Daniel’s rules echo in my head like something carved into bone.
But my wolf doesn’t listen anymore.
She paces inside me, sharp and agitated, her claws scraping against control. Every breath I take feels wrong, too heavy, too full of someone else’s scent.
Not ours.
Not safe.
I stand before I realize I’ve moved.
The room feels smaller today. The walls closer. The air thinner.
I can’t breathe in here.
“Just a walk,” I murmur, more to myself than anything else.
My wolf goes quiet.
Not calm.
Waiting.
I don’t take the main hall.
I don’t want eyes on me. Questions. Permission I won’t get.
Instead, I slip through the side exit near the kitchens, past the back corridor where Omegas move like shadows. No one stops me. No one meets my eyes.
They never do.
The moment I step outside, the air shifts.
Cool. Alive. Real.
I inhale deeply, and something inside me loosens.
But it isn’t enough.
The pull is stronger now, tugging me toward the tree line beyond the pack grounds.
Danger.
I know it.
The border isn’t just a line. It’s a warning. A law.
No one crosses without reason.
No one leaves without the Alpha’s word.
My steps slow as I approach it.
I should turn back.
I don’t.
The moment I cross, something changes.
The forest closes in around me, thicker, darker. The scent of the pack fades behind me, replaced by damp earth, pine, and something else.
Something unfamiliar.
My wolf lifts her head.
There.
My heart stutters.
I take another step, then another, deeper into the woods. Branches brush against my arms, the ground uneven beneath my feet, but I don’t stop.
I can’t.
The scent grows stronger.
Clean. Sharp. Wild.
It hits something deep inside me, something I don’t understand, and my breath catches.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
My wolf surges forward in answer.
Closer.
I break into a faster walk, then a near run, my pulse pounding in my ears. Every instinct is screaming now, loud and insistent.
Find him.
The thought isn’t mine.
Or maybe it is.
I push through a cluster of trees and stop.
He’s there.
Standing in a clearing like he’s been waiting.
Tall. Still. Watching.
For a second, neither of us moves.
The world seems to narrow, pulling tight around the space between us.
His scent hits me fully this time.
It’s overwhelming.
Not soft. Not gentle.
Power.
Storm and smoke and something darker underneath, something that coils low in my stomach and pulls.
My wolf slams against me, desperate, alive in a way she hasn’t been in weeks.
Mine.
The word echoes through me, raw and certain.
I suck in a breath, my body going rigid.
No.
No, that’s not—
His gaze sharpens, like he felt it too.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.
His voice is low, rough, carrying easily through the trees.
It does something to me.
Something I don’t like.
I lift my chin, forcing strength into my voice. “Neither should you.”
But I don’t move.
I don’t leave.
He notices.
Of course he does.
A slow, almost disbelieving look crosses his face as he takes a step closer.
“Funny,” he murmurs. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
My heart hammers harder with every inch he closes between us.
“Then maybe you should go,” I say.
“Maybe I should.”
He doesn’t.
Another step.
Too close.
Everything in me tightens, but my feet stay rooted to the ground.
His eyes move over me, not in the way Daniel’s do, not assessing, not calculating.
Searching.
Like he’s trying to understand something.
Or recognize it.
“What pack are you from?” he asks.
“You already know,” I answer.
His jaw tightens slightly. “Daniel’s.”
It isn’t a question.
I nod once.
A flicker of something dark crosses his expression.
“Of course you are.”
Something in his tone makes my chest tighten.
“And you?” I ask. “You’re not from here.”
A corner of his mouth lifts, but there’s no humor in it.
“No,” he says. “I’m not.”
Silence stretches between us again, thick and charged.
I should be afraid.
I am afraid.
But it’s tangled with something else now. Something hotter. More dangerous.
My wolf presses forward again, pushing against my control, drawn to him in a way that makes no sense.
He feels it.
I can see it in the way his posture shifts, the way his breathing changes.
“Easy,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
“I’m not doing anything,” I snap.
“That’s the problem.”
His gaze locks onto mine, intense, unyielding.
“You feel it,” he says quietly.
I shake my head immediately. “No.”
Lie.
The word burns through me.
His eyes darken.
“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t lie about something like this.”
“Like what?” I demand.
“Like the fact that your wolf is practically clawing its way out to get to me.”
My breath catches.
Because he’s right.
And I hate that he knows it.
“I don’t even know who you are,” I say.
“Ryan,” he answers. “Ryan Blake.”
The name settles somewhere deep, like it should mean something.
Maybe it does.
“Rogue,” I say slowly.
His expression doesn’t change, but the air shifts.
“Is that what they call me?” he asks.
“It’s what everyone calls anyone who doesn’t belong to a pack.”
His gaze sharpens. “I belong.”
The certainty in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“To what?” I ask.
He steps closer.
This time, I feel it before he even moves.
The pull.
Strong. Unforgiving.
My wolf surges, and I suck in a breath, my body reacting before my mind can catch up.
“To you,” he says softly.
Everything in me goes still.
“No,” I whisper.
But the word feels weak.
Unconvincing.
His hand lifts, hesitating just inches from my arm, like he’s holding himself back.
The restraint in that small movement hits harder than if he’d touched me.
“You don’t feel it?” he asks.
I do.
God, I do.
It’s everywhere. In my chest. My blood. My bones.
A thread pulling tight between us, impossible to ignore.
Impossible to break.
“I shouldn’t,” I say instead.
His jaw tightens.
“That’s not the same thing.”
I take a step back, putting space between us, even though it hurts more than it should.
“I’m not yours,” I say.
The words come out sharper than I expect.
His eyes drop.
Not to my face.
To my stomach.
Everything changes in an instant.
The air goes cold.
His entire body stills, every muscle locking into place.
“No,” I say quickly. “Don’t—”
He inhales.
Sharp. Deep.
Like he’s confirming something he doesn’t want to believe.
When his gaze lifts back to mine, it’s different.
Darker.
More dangerous.
“You’re carrying another Alpha’s child,” he says.
It isn’t a question.
My throat tightens.
I don’t answer.
I don’t need to.
His expression hardens, something raw and furious flickering beneath the surface.
For a second, I think he might step back.
Walk away.
He doesn’t.
If anything, he moves closer.
Closer than before.
Close enough that I can feel the heat of him, the tension in his body, the war he’s clearly fighting.
His voice drops, rough and unsteady in a way that doesn’t match his strength.
“And you’re still mine.”