Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
ISABELLA
T he old logging camp is eerie in the moonlight, the rusted remnants of equipment scattered like forgotten skeletons among the trees. The night is cold, crisp, and far too quiet. My breath puffs out in small clouds as I crouch near a rotting wooden beam, my flashlight tucked away to keep us hidden. The air feels heavy, almost suffocating, and I know it’s not just the surroundings.
Ryder is not happy with me. He tried ordering me to stand down, and I told him to go fuck himself. He could either let me tag along, or I’d come by myself. Ryder Stone does not like being forced into a corner. He stands a few feet away from me now, his broad shoulders tense as he scans the tree line. The moonlight catches the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more untouchable than usual. I can’t tell if it’s the silence or the way he keeps glancing my way, but my skin prickles with awareness, and I feel the simmering frustration between us building again.
“Keep in mind Bella, our job tonight is just to observe. That’s it. There will be no heroics and no confrontations. Just watch and report back.”
“To who? The sheriff? He couldn’t even be bothered to come out here…”
“He is responsible for the safety of the town, not your personal vendetta about Arthur or even dealing with the Crimson Claw.”
“Why isn’t the Crimson Claw his job? And can you tell me what the difference is between the mutants and shifters like you?”
“They are an abomination,” he growls. “Wolf-shifters—all shifters—evolved thousands of years ago. Purebred humans, wolves, and shifters—all three species advanced on different but parallel evolutionary paths. The mutants did not. From what we’ve been able to gather, they were created in a way that isn’t natural. They share the worst traits of both wolves and humans. They are nothing like wolf-shifters.”
“What about my grandmother?”
“She was an outcast or exile. She was nothing at all like a mutant.”
“Then why do I feel like you’re always keeping your distance? I can feel you watching the clinic at night…”
“To keep you safe.”
“Don’t you have people who can do that?”
“Not any I trust with your safety. In any event,” he says, his voice clipped. “This isn’t about me. It’s about keeping you safe.”
His breath hitches, and the air between us feels electric, charged with something neither of us can ignore. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, highlighting the stiffness in his jaw, the fire in his eyes. My heart pounds, and I realize I’m not just angry—I’m drawn to him in a way that terrifies me.
“Safe from what?” I demand, my frustration surging again. “The mutants? Or is it you and your pack I need to be kept safe from?”
His eyes flash, and for a second, I think I’ve crossed a line. But instead of lashing out, he takes another step back, the distance between us tangible. Before he can reply, a faint rustle in the trees catches his attention, and his head snaps toward the sound. His posture shifts, his focus narrowing as he scans the shadows.
“We’re not alone,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.
I follow his gaze, my pulse quickening as I peer into the darkness. The forest feels alive now, the quiet replaced by something heavier, more dangerous.
Ryder steps in front of me, his body tense and ready. “Stay behind me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The forest is still, the kind of silence that makes your ears strain for the smallest sound. The shadows around the old logging camp feel alive, like they’re watching, waiting. I press my back against a rotting wooden beam, clutching the flashlight in my hand even though it’s off. The weight of the night presses on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Ryder is a few feet in front of me, his posture tense, every line of his body taut like a predator ready to strike. His head tilts slightly, his eyes scanning the darkness. His hand raises, a silent command to stay put.
“Quiet,” he growls, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down my spine.
Before I can respond, the shadows explode into motion. A blur of fur and teeth barrels out of the darkness, and a snarl rips through the air, primal and feral. It happens so fast I barely have time to register what’s happening before something—a mutant?—lunges at us.
“Ryder!” I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I stumble back as he shoves me to the side and steps into the attack, his movements impossibly fast.
I can’t move. I’m frozen, caught between the terror of what’s happening and the sheer awe of watching Ryder fight. He’s a force of nature, both beautiful and horrifying, his every movement precise and lethal.
The mutant is massive, its yellow eyes glowing with a feral light, saliva dripping from its bared fangs. Ryder meets it head-on, grabbing the wolf by the scruff of the neck mid-lunge and throwing it to the ground with a force that shakes the earth beneath me. The sound of snapping jaws and snarling fills the air, and I freeze, unable to tear my eyes away.
A swirling mist that seems to be made of lightning, thunder and jagged shards of color surrounds Ryder. As the mist dissipates, rolling back down to the ground, an enormous black wolf stands where Ryder once stood. I’ve seen the wolf before. The transformation is seamless, fluid, and terrifying in its speed and complexity.
Ryder stands there, a shadow carved out of the night, his black fur sleek and shining like polished obsidian. His amber eyes are locked on the grey wolf across from him, a hulking beast with a coat like cold ash and a pronounced hump where its shoulders meet. The mutant’s lips curl back, baring teeth that glint in the pale light, promising violence.
I want to call out to Ryder, tell him to run, but I know he won’t. This fight isn’t one either of us can walk away from. I’m frozen in place as I watch the two wolves face off, their muscles coiled, their snarls low and guttural.
The mutant moves again, a blur of motion and brute force, but Ryder is faster. He dodges to the side, his body a fluid, seamless shadow, the mutant’s claws ripping through empty air. Before the mutant can recover, Ryder leaps, his jaws snapping toward its throat. My breath hitches, hope flaring for a split second.
But the mutant twists violently, throwing Ryder off. They crash to the ground in a whirlwind of fur and fangs, snarls ripping through the clearing. I flinch as Ryder hits the dirt hard, but he’s already back on his feet, growling, snarling and defiant.
The mutant circles him, its steps heavy, predatory. Ryder stays still, his head low, his body tense but ready. The mutant feints left, then darts right, aiming for Ryder’s hind leg. Ryder spins at the last second, slamming his shoulder into the mutant’s chest. The impact is so violent I can almost feel it in my bones. The mutant skids across the dirt, claws scraping for purchase, but Ryder doesn’t wait. He charges, sinking his teeth into the mutant’s neck.
I almost cry out in relief, but the moment doesn’t last. The mutant thrashes, claws raking down Ryder’s side, and I hear him groan. My heart shatters at the sound. Blood stains his dark fur, but he doesn’t let go. He digs his claws into the mutant’s shoulders, forcing it to the ground.
They break apart in a flurry of movement, both panting, the other wolf bleeding heavily. Ryder stands his ground. The mutant lunges again, its jaws snapping toward Ryder’s throat. I can’t stop myself from gasping. Ryder ducks low, just in time, and twists upward, his teeth closing around the gray’s vulnerable throat. For a heartbeat, everything stops.
The mutant’s eyes widen as it struggles, its massive body thrashing, but Ryder doesn’t let go. His growl rumbles deep and low, vibrating through the clearing. My chest feels tight, my breath frozen as I watch Ryder hold on, his eyes blazing.
Then, with one brutal twist, it’s over.
The mutant collapses, its body limp. The clearing falls silent, except for the sound of Ryder’s heavy breathing. He stands over his fallen opponent, blood dripping from his jaws, his chest heaving. His golden eyes catch the moonlight, fierce and unbroken.
For a moment, I can’t move. Relief and fear clash in my chest, leaving me frozen. Then Ryder’s gaze shifts, and he looks at me.
“Ryder…” I whisper, my voice barely audible. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, just watches me. His fur is matted with blood, his side torn, but he’s still here. Still alive.
I take a cautious step closer, my hand reaching out instinctively.
Ryder straightens, his breath ragged, his shoulders heaving. The mist appears again, this time swirling around Ryder’s wolf form and then retreats to reveal a naked and battered Ryder. The moonlight catches on the blood streaking his skin.
“Bella,” he says, his voice hoarse, almost hesitant.
I can’t speak. My eyes are locked on him, on the faint remnants of his shift that seem to still be visible in the sharpness of his features, the amber glow in his eyes. My heart races, not just from the attack, but from him—from what I just saw.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, stepping closer, his voice softening.
I shake my head, finally finding my voice. “I’m fine. You shifted,” I say with awe.
He stops, his jaw tightening as he searches my face. “I had no choice.”
The silence between us is deafening, the tension thick enough to choke on. My body feels like it’s on fire, adrenaline and fear surging through me, but there’s something else, too. Something deeper, something I don’t understand.
A shiver ripples down my spine, and I gasp, clutching my stomach as a strange heat blooms inside me. It’s not pain, exactly, but it’s intense, wild, like my body is waking up to something I didn’t know was there.
“Bella?” Ryder’s voice is sharp now, concern flashing in his eyes as he reaches for me.
I take a shaky step back, holding up a hand. “I—I’m fine,” I stammer, even as another shiver wracks my body. My skin feels tight, my senses sharper, and I swear I can hear the forest breathing.
“What’s happening to me?” I whisper, panic creeping into my voice.
His hand closes around my wrist, firm but careful, his warmth grounding me. “Your wolf side,” he says, his tone almost reverent. “It’s waking up.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “That’s not possible. I tried to call her forward the other night, but there was nothing there.”
“Nothing? I know you tried to shift and couldn’t, but were you focused on the shift or on connecting with your she-wolf? Could you feel her prowling at the edges of your mind? She’s there in your blood, Bella. You’ve probably felt it, but didn’t know enough to know what it was—the pull, the instincts you can’t explain.”
I swallow hard, my mind racing. He’s not wrong. I’ve felt it my whole life—the strange awareness of the woods, the way I can sense things I shouldn’t, the dreams I could never explain. But I always thought they were just… me.
“Why now?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Why is this happening now?”
“Because you’re under stress,” Ryder says, his tone gentler now. “The fight, the fear—it triggered something. Your she-wolf is reacting, trying to protect you.”
I pull my wrist free, taking another step back. My heart pounds as I try to process what he’s saying, what I’m feeling, but it’s too much. The world is spinning, and I don’t know which way is up anymore.
“Talk to me Ryder. Tell me what I need to know,” I say, my voice breaking.
He takes a deep breath. “Let’s get back to my truck. I have some clothes there.”
“What happened to the ones you had on?”
“An unfortunate byproduct of the shift—it destroys anything you have on except precious metals.”
I sling his arm over my shoulder in order to support him as we make our way back to where his truck is parked. He reaches in and pulls on some clothing.
“You’re connected to this, Bella,” he says finally. “To the pack, to the Crimson Claw, to everything that’s been happening. Your bloodline, your grandmother—it’s all tied together. The truth is I don’t have all the answers. I think Arthur was getting close, but I didn’t know how much he learned until you showed up and found his notes.”
I swallow hard, my chest tightening as his words sink in.
“You should leave, Bella. The world we live in—especially now with the mutants—is dangerous.”
“If you think I’m going to walk away now, you are sadly mistaken,” I say, forcing the words out through the chaos swirling in my mind.
Ryder steps closer, his gaze fierce and unwavering. “You should,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Because once you’re in, there’s no going back.”
I lift my chin, meeting his stare head-on. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
Neither of us speaks, the air between us alive with a kind of kinetic energy. But as I hold his gaze, I know one thing for certain: whatever comes next, I’m not running—not from Ryder and not from the truth.