Chapter 2 Alaric
ALARIC
Alaric Thistlebrush stood in the shadows between the forge and the apothecary, snow collecting on his shoulders. His steel-gray eyes tracked the woman as she crossed the street toward the Griddle nervous sweat beneath layers of wool, the faint metallic tang of car exhaust still clinging to her clothes, and something else.
Something that made his wolf pace restlessly beneath his skin.
Human. Completely, utterly human.
Which made Emmett's orders all the more troubling.
Three hours earlier, the summons had come through a sharp tug in his chest. The Council's call, impossible to ignore. Alaric had left his cabin without bothering to lock the door. Nobody in Hollow Oak would steal from the enforcer, and nobody outside Hollow Oak could find it.
The Council Glade sat deep in the woods, where the pines grew so thick they blocked out the sky. Ancient stones formed a rough circle, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of shifter gatherings. Lanterns hung from iron hooks driven into the trees, casting dancing shadows across the snow.
Emmett Hollowell waited at the center, arms crossed over his broad chest. The former enforcer looked every inch the Council member now with his dark coat buttoned to his throat, an expression carved from granite and his gray-blue eyes met Alaric's without warmth.
"She's here," Emmett said.
Alaric stopped at the perimeter of the circle. "Who?"
"Human journalist. Sonya had a vision three days ago—woman with questions, notebook full of rumors, driving toward Hollow Oak through a storm." Emmett's jaw worked. "The Veil let her through moments ago."
Alaric's wolf stirred. The Veil didn't part for just anyone. If it had opened for this woman, she either had latent magic or the town wanted her here. Neither option sat well with him.
"What does the Council want?"
"Watch her. Keep her contained. If she starts digging too deep, silence her." Emmett's voice dropped. "We can't have another Sera Quinn situation."
Alaric remembered that mess. The influencer who'd stumbled into town five years ago, viral breakdown and all. She'd nearly exposed them before Maddox had gotten through to her, but still agencies and contingencies had had to be involved. The town had been lucky then. Luck wasn't strategy.
"You want me to kill her if she asks the wrong questions?"
"I want you to do whatever's necessary to protect Hollow Oak." Emmett stepped closer, snow crunching under his boots. "That's the job, Alaric. That's what I did before you. Watch her. Learn what she knows. Figure out if she's a threat."
"And if she is?"
Emmett's expression didn't change. "Then you make the call."
Alaric's hands flexed at his sides. He'd followed orders his entire life, from his pack alpha, from the Council, from anyone who held authority over him. It was easier that way. Cleaner. But standing in the Glade with Emmett's cold command settling over him, his wolf growled low and uneasy.
"She's just one human," Alaric said.
"One human with a platform. One human who's been writing about supernatural phenomena for three years. One human who's good enough at her job that she found us." Emmett's eyes narrowed. "Don't underestimate her because she's human."
"I never underestimate anyone."
"Good. Then get moving. She's at the Griddle & Grind by now."
Alaric turned without another word and disappeared into the trees.
Now, watching the journalist vanish into the café, he replayed the conversation in his head. The jagged scar along his jaw ached in the cold from an old injury from a rogue shifter who'd underestimated him exactly once.
His wolf wanted closer. Wanted to see her face, hear her voice, catalogue every detail until he understood what she was and what she wanted. But Alaric had learned patience the hard way. Better to watch from a distance first. Let her settle. See how the town reacted.
Through the café's windows, he caught glimpses of movement. Twyla Honeytree behind the counter, all fake smiles and real calculation. The fae woman saw everything in this town, and she'd already be spinning theories about the stranger.
The journalist—Elara, according to the research he'd done while tracking her car—sat down at a table near the window. She pulled out a notebook, pen poised over the page.
Of course she was taking notes. Of course she couldn't just sit and have her coffee like a normal person passing through.
The wind shifted, carrying her scent stronger now. Underneath the nervousness and the exhaust, he caught something floral. Not perfume. Soap, maybe. Simple. Practical.
Suddenly, his wolf surged forward, pressing against his control.
The thought came unbidden and unwelcome. Alaric shoved it down hard, forcing his wolf back into submission. Ridiculous. He'd been too long without company if his instincts were firing off at the first human woman to wander into town.
She was an assignment. A problem to solve. Nothing more.
He watched her write something in her notebook, watched her push her glasses up her nose with one finger, watched her scan the café's interior with sharp green eyes that missed nothing.
Dangerous. That's what she was. Not because she was strong or armed or trained, but because she was curious. And curiosity in the wrong person could unravel everything Hollow Oak had built.
He'd give her tonight. Let her feel safe, let her think she'd found some quaint mountain town full of eccentric locals. Let her write her notes and drink her coffee and believe she was in control.
Then, he'd figure out exactly what Elara Jameston knew and how much of a threat she posed.
And if she proved dangerous?
His wolf growled at the thought, but Alaric silenced it.
He'd do what he'd always done. He'd follow orders.
Even if some part of him, the part that smelled winter roses and wanted closer, was already starting to question them.