3. Chapter 3
The snowmobile’s engine cut through the pre-dawn darkness. Sage sat behind Declan, her arms wrapped around his waist because there was nowhere else to hold, and catalogued everything. The solid line of muscle beneath her hands was impossible to miss. She ignored it and focused on the terrain.
The route wound northeast through dense timber. They crossed the creek more than once. One narrow pass made her neck prickle. The trees thinned after the second mile, opening into clearings that would be useful for surveillance positions.
She memorized landmarks. A lightning-struck pine, a boulder shaped like a crouching bear, a stand of aspens that would rattle in any wind.
Declan hadn’t spoken since they’d left the cabin.
His body stayed tense beneath her grip. She felt every shift of his weight, every adjustment of his posture.
The heat of him cut through their layers of winter gear, and beneath the contact, something hummed.
Something that had no name and no clean place to file.
She ignored it.
The compound appeared as the sky lightened from black to charcoal. Not the crude collection of structures she’d expected. No defensive walls or rough shelters.
Instead she saw a cluster of well-maintained buildings spread across a natural clearing, smoke rising from chimneys, lights glowing in windows. A proper community.
Her breath caught.
This wasn’t what she’d prepared for. She’d expected something savage. Something that matched the brutality of what they’d done to Mason.
Declan guided the snowmobile to a stop near the lodge’s front steps. He dismounted first, then offered her a hand. She ignored it and climbed off on her own, legs stiff from the chill and the ride.
“Wait here.” His tone left no room for argument.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes found hers in the growing light. “No. You’re not.” He disappeared inside.
Sage stood in the snow and counted windows, exits, defensive positions.
Noted the guard walking the perimeter. A woman with silver-streaked hair who moved with the same predatory grace as Declan.
Marked the garage that probably held vehicles, the smaller buildings that might be storage or housing, the tree line that offered cover in three directions.
The door opened. Declan reappeared, his face unreadable.
“He’ll see you now.”
The lodge’s interior surprised her again.
Hardwood floors polished to a soft gleam.
Furniture that looked comfortable and lived-in rather than utilitarian.
Photographs on the walls showing groups of people.
Families, she realized. Children. The scent of coffee drifted from somewhere deeper in the building.
Declan led her down a hallway to a heavy wooden door. He knocked once, then pushed it open without waiting for a response.
The Alpha’s office held the same unexpected warmth as the rest of the lodge. Bookshelves lined two walls, packed with everything from leather-bound classics to dog-eared paperbacks. A fire crackled in a stone fireplace. Two leather chairs faced a desk made from a single massive slab of wood.
Behind the desk sat a man who made something primal in Sage scream danger.
Jace Holbrook looked nothing like the monster she’d imagined. Mid-thirties, dark hair, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans like any rancher. But his eyes held the weight of absolute authority, and the way he moved as he stood, fluid and certain, marked him as something far more than human.
“Sage Whitmore.” His voice rolled through the room like distant thunder. “You’ve caused quite a stir.”
She lifted her chin. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You crossed into pack territory without permission. Broke into one of our cabins. Brought surveillance equipment and a case file aimed at my pack.” He settled against the edge of his desk, arms crossed. “Want to try that again?”
“I came here for answers.”
His tone didn’t soften. “Declan told me what you told him. All of it.”
Her body tensed, but she kept her expression level.
Jace tilted his head, studying her with the same unnerving focus Declan had shown. “You’ve been tracking deaths around our territory. Building a case. Gathering evidence. And now you’ve decided to come see for yourself if we’re the monsters you think we are.”
The words knocked the air from her lungs.
“Your brother.” Jace’s voice gentled slightly. “Mason Whitmore.”
Her throat closed. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stand there while this stranger said her brother’s name.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Jace pushed away from the desk. “But my pack didn’t kill him.”
“You don’t know that.” Her voice rasped. “You can’t possibly know every wolf under your authority.”
“I can. And I do.” He turned to the window. “Pack bonds don’t work the way you think. When one of mine kills without sanction, I know. The whole pack knows.”
He faced her. “No one in Blackridge has killed a human in over a decade. And the last time it happened, I handled the wolf responsible myself.”
The conviction in his voice made her want to believe him. Made her want to accept that she’d been wrong, that three years of investigation had led her to the wrong pack.
But she’d seen the pattern. Traced the deaths. Followed the evidence to this territory.
“Then someone’s lying to you.” She held her ground.
“Or you’re wrong.”
The door opened before she could respond. A woman entered, carrying two mugs of coffee. She was tall and lean, with light hair pulled back in a braid and eyes that assessed Sage in one quick, thorough glance.
“Maren.” Jace’s expression softened. “You didn’t have to—”
“Yes, I did.” She handed him one mug, then offered the other to Sage. “You look like you could use this.”
Sage took it automatically. The woman, Maren, smiled, and it transformed her face.
“I’m Maren Holbrook. Jace’s mate.” She moved to stand beside the Alpha, fitting against his side like she belonged there. “And before you ask, yes, I know what you’re here for. And no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“Maren—”
“She lost Mason, Jace. She’s allowed to want answers.” Maren’s gaze returned to Sage, something like understanding in her eyes. “But you’re looking in the wrong place.”
“How can you be sure?” Sage’s grip tightened around the mug. “How can any of you be sure?”
“Because we know our people.” Jace’s voice carried quiet certainty. “Because pack bonds don’t lie. And because if someone in Blackridge was killing humans, I would have torn them apart myself.”
The words should have sounded like a threat. Instead, they sounded like a promise.
Sage looked at them. The Alpha and his mate, standing together with the kind of certainty she’d lost. Behind her, she felt Declan’s presence like something solid at her back.
“One more thing.” Jace’s voice went deliberate. “Inside this compound, my word holds. Anything involving harm to a human goes through the Regional Council. I’m telling you now so you know the rules.”
“Regional Council.” She filed it. “Who are they?”
“Elected representatives from every pack in the northwestern territory. Seven seats. They arbitrate disputes, enforce borders, and investigate violations.” His mouth thinned.
“Their rulings carry weight. A pack that ignores a Council decree gets isolated. Cut off from trade, alliances, mutual defense. For a pack our size, that’s a death sentence. ”
“You have a choice.” Jace moved away from the desk. “You can leave now. Take your equipment, get in your truck, and never come back. We’ll forget this happened.”
“Or?”
“Or you stay.” He returned to his desk and settled into his chair. “You came here with a documented grievance, not a weapon. That entitles you to evidence review before any action is taken against you. We’ll give you our records, our cooperation, our truth.”
He leaned forward, studying her. “But if you stay, you follow our rules. Break our trust once, and you’re gone.”
He settled back. “Also, a human woman who knows our location and our faces is safer inside this compound than outside it. That’s not a threat. It’s math.”
It was a trap. Had to be a trap. They’d keep her close, monitor her movements, make sure she never found the evidence she needed.
But she’d come this far. Crossed into their territory, broken into their cabin, faced their Alpha. And something about this place, about these people, didn’t match the monsters she’d built in her mind.
She thought of Mason. Of the promise she’d made standing over his grave.
“I’ll stay.” Her voice came out steady.
Jace nodded slowly. “Then you’ll need an escort. Someone to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” His gaze shifted past her shoulder. “Declan. She’s your responsibility.”
Declan blocked the doorway, his face as unreadable as ever. But his eyes shifted. Something crossed them he didn’t name, surprise, maybe, or the particular resignation that came with acceptance.
“Alpha—”
“You brought her in.” Jace’s tone left no room for argument. “Where she goes, you go? What she sees, you see? Consider it a direct order.”
A long pause. He stopped, jaw tightening on something he didn’t say. Finally, he let out a breath.
“Understood.”
Maren made a soft sound that might have been amusement. The woman’s eyes held something knowing.
“There are guest quarters on the eastern edge of the compound,” Jace added. “You can stay there while you’re here.” He picked up a pen and returned his attention to the papers on his desk. “Declan will show you.”
A dismissal. Clear and final.
Sage followed Declan out of the office, down the hallway, back into the morning air. They walked in silence across the compound, past wolves who paused to watch them pass. She felt their curiosity like fingertips trailing across her skin.
She felt something else too. A tension in the air that lived in the space between her and the man walking beside her, nothing to do with the cold.
The cabin sat at the edge of the clearing, smaller than the main lodge but well-maintained. Declan opened the door without knocking, stepped inside to check the space before letting her enter.
One room, divided into living areas. A kitchenette in one corner. A bed against the far wall. A bathroom behind a partially open door. Simple. Functional.
“I’ll bring your things from the truck.” Declan moved toward the door. “Don’t leave the cabin until I get back.”
“I’m not a prisoner?”
“No.” He met her eyes, and she saw something fierce and protective in his look, something that made her step falter before she caught herself. “You’re not.”
He left before she could respond. The door closed with a soft click, and Sage stood alone in the cabin, listening to his footsteps fade. The sound of snow crunching under his boots grew softer until it ceased.
She’d made her choice. Committed to staying, to seeing this through, to finding the truth no matter what it cost her.
But standing in the cabin that would be her home, she wondered if that truth would be anything like what she’d expected.
Outside, the sun broke over the mountains, painting the snow bright.
Inside, Sage Whitmore began to plan her next move.