Chapter 14 Alaric
ALARIC
Alaric set the pace deliberately, watching Elara struggle through the deep snow behind him. He could move faster, should move faster, but something made him slow his strides enough that she could keep up.
His wolf was too aware of her. The sound of her breathing. The way she smelled even in the cold air. Winter roses cutting through pine and snow.
"How far are we going?" she asked.
"Perimeter check. Make sure the storm didn't trap anyone outside town limits."
"Does that happen often?"
"Often enough."
The woods were quiet. Too quiet. His wolf's hackles rose, sensing something wrong before his human mind caught up.
Then the scent hit him.
Gun oil. Leather. Unwashed clothing. And underneath it all, something metallic and bitter. Silver.
Hunters.
His entire body went rigid. That scent. He knew that scent. The hunters. The ones who'd tracked his pack. The ones who'd used silver and fire while he'd been following orders miles away.
"What is it?" Elara asked behind him.
"Nothing. Keep moving." He forced himself to walk, to appear calm. But his wolf was snarling, demanding he shift, demanding he track them down and tear them apart.
Not yet. Not with her here.
The tracks appeared fifty yards later. Boot prints. Three sets, maybe four. Fresh enough that the edges hadn't softened. They'd been here within the last few hours.
Close. Too damn close to town.
"Wait here," he told Elara.
"What's wrong?"
"Just wait."
He followed the tracks into the trees, his wolf reading every detail. Four men. Heavily armed based on the depth of the prints. Moving with purpose, not wandering. They knew where they were going.
Or they were looking for something specific.
The Veil should have kept them out. Should have turned them around, confused them, sent them back the way they'd come. But these hunters had old knowledge. Old ways of breaking through protections.
His pack's killers had known those ways too.
Alaric forced himself to breathe. To think. If he told Elara what he'd found, she'd ask questions he couldn't answer. Questions that would lead to truths about what Hollow Oak really was. About what he really was.
He walked back to where Elara waited, schooling his expression into something neutral.
"What did you find?" she asked.
"Deer tracks. Nothing important."
"You looked worried."
"I wasn't worried."
"You tensed up. I saw it."
"Thought I heard something. It was nothing." He started walking, pushing the pace faster. "We should head back."
"We just got out here."
"Storm might pick up again. Don't want to be caught out in it."
She followed, but he could feel her eyes on his back. Suspicious. She'd seen something in his reaction, and now she was cataloging it, filing it away with all her other observations.
"Alaric."
"What?"
"Those weren't deer tracks."
His stride didn't falter. "Yes, they were."
"I'm not an idiot. Deer don't walk in straight lines."
"These ones did."
"Why are you lying to me?"
Because the truth would expose everything. Because you don't know what you've stumbled into. Because those hunters might be here because of you, and I can't protect you if you're asking questions that lead them straight to what they're hunting.
"I'm not lying. I'm telling you it's not your concern."
"If there are people out here, lost in the storm, that is my concern. We should help them."
"They're not lost."
The words came out before he could stop them.
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
"So there are people out here. People you know about. People you're not telling me about." She crossed her arms. "What are you hiding?"
Everything. "Nothing that concerns you."
"Everything in this town concerns me. That's why I'm here."
"That's why you shouldn't be here." His wolf pushed forward, protective and possessive. "Some things are dangerous. Some people are dangerous. And you asking questions about them only makes it worse."
"Who are they? The people who left those tracks."
"Nobody."
"Alaric."
"Drop it, Elara." He couldn't tell her. Wouldn't tell her. Not until he knew for certain whether those hunters were tracking her or tracking the town. "We're going back."
The walk back was silent. His wolf stayed alert, scanning for any sign the hunters had circled closer. But the woods remained quiet.
By the time they reached the cabin, dawn had broken fully. The sky was clear, pale blue stretching between the trees.
"Power should be back on by now," he said, not looking at her. "You can go back to the inn."
"Just like that? We're done?"
"There's nothing else to see."
"Except whatever you're not telling me about those tracks."
She wouldn't let it go. Never let anything go. "Get your things. I'll drive you back."
Inside, she climbed to the loft to pack. He stood by the stove, trying to sort through what he'd found. The hunters were here. In Hollow Oak's territory. And their scent matched the ones who'd killed his pack.
Which meant they were specifically hunting shifters. Hunting his kind.
And if they'd followed Elara, if they thought she could lead them past the Veil, then she was in more danger than she realized.
"Thank you," she said behind him. "For letting me stay. For keeping me warm."
He nodded.
"And for whatever you're protecting me from. Even if you won't tell me what it is."
He turned. "How do you know I'm protecting you?"
"Because you looked scared out there. And you don't strike me as someone who scares easily." She moved toward the door. "So whoever left those tracks, whatever they represent, you didn't want me near them. That's protection, whether you admit it or not."
The truck ride back was quiet. When he pulled up to the inn, lights glowed in the windows. Power restored.
"Thank you for the ride," she said.
"Be careful today."
"Of what?"
"Everything." He looked at her, letting himself really see her. The sharp green eyes behind her glasses. The way her hair escaped from under her hat. The determined set of her jaw. "Stay in town. Don't go wandering into the woods alone."
"Why?"
"Just don't."
She studied his face. He could feel her trying to read him, trying to understand what he wasn't saying.
"You're not going to tell me, are you. What's really going on here."
"Can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both."
She opened the door. "You know, you're less terrible than you pretend to be."
His mouth twitched despite everything. "Don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my reputation."
"Your secret's safe with me." She grabbed her bag. "Will I see you later?"
"Probably. Small town."
"And you're watching me."
"Always."
She leaned back through the open door. "For what it's worth, I think whoever left those tracks should be more afraid of you than you are of them."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you look like someone who's lost before and refuses to lose again." She closed the door. "Be safe on your patrol."
He watched her walk into the inn, then pulled away. His wolf wanted to stay. Wanted to follow her inside and make sure she was safe. But he had work to do.
He needed to find those hunters before they found what they were looking for.
Before they found her.
The scent of gun oil and silver still burned in his nose. The same scent that had surrounded his pack's bodies. The same scent that haunted his nightmares.
History repeating itself. Unless he stopped it.
Alaric pointed the truck toward the Council Glade. Emmett needed to know. The town needed to prepare.
Because the hunters had found them.
And this time, Alaric refused to fail.