Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FERAL
Ifelt when we reached Bastian’s boundary line.
One stride I was running through my territory, familiar ground that smelled like pack filling my senses. The next, the air tasted different. Like something that had been claimed before I was born and would be claimed long after I was gone.
My wolf went silent in my head, coiling the way he did before a fight.
This was the thing about crossing into another alpha’s territory.
It wasn’t just geographic. The land itself recognized pack magic, boundaries carved into the soil through generations of wolves defending the same ground.
My father had taught me to feel it when I was young, that subtle shift in the air that meant you were no longer protected.
You were exposed.
My pride in carrying Victoria warred with the worry cutting through my guts. She didn’t know how bad this could get. She thought we were gathering evidence, making observations, and building a case.
She was right, but she was also wrong about what Bastian might do if he felt cornered.
Alphas who’d held power as long as Bastian had didn’t get there by backing down when challenged. They got there by making examples and by turning threats into warnings that lasted generations.
Pulling her off and sending her back would solve nothing, however. If I’d found a way to leave her behind, she would’ve begun her own expedition by midday, and then I’d be dealing with this mess and worrying about where she was and what trouble she might be getting into.
At least this way I could keep an eye on her.
I kept moving, my pace steady. Showing hesitation would be as bad as showing fear.
Bastian’s wolves would be watching from positions I couldn’t see, noting every detail to report back.
How I held myself. How my mate carried herself.
Whether we looked like we belonged here or like we were trespassing.
Acorn sat in Victoria’s lap, not releasing a single chirp. His silence meant he was tracking everything around us as intently as me. The squirrel was smarter than I’d initially given him credit for.
Movement flickered in my peripheral vision. Bastian’s scouts eased from the tree line in wolf form, falling into flanking positions. A formal escort that was also a show of force, making it clear we were being watched, and we were on their ground now.
I didn’t acknowledge them. Just kept my head high, my stride even, and my breathing controlled. The protocol was simple. Noticing them would be conceding they had authority over my movements.
They didn’t.
I was king of this region. Bastian was a subordinate alpha who’d been pushing boundaries for years, testing to see how far he could go before I dropped him to the ground and sunk my fangs into his throat.
This visit was me pushing back. I just had to do it carefully enough that I didn’t turn this into a war.
Victoria leaned forward, her voice pitched too low for the scouts to catch. “Four on the left, three on the right. They appear well-trained.” She paused, studying them. “Your pack runs tighter formations, for what it’s worth.”
My wolf preened like he’d just won something.
I wanted to tell her not to analyze the threat assessment out loud while we were surrounded, but the truth was I liked that she was paying attention. Even in enemy territory, she was making solid observations.
My father would’ve approved of her. He would’ve liked the way she didn’t flinch. She treated enemy territory like a research site instead of a threat. This woman had climbed onto my back without hesitation when I’d shifted, trusting me to carry her into danger and back out again.
We approached the outer edge of Bastian’s compound through a cleared section of forest. The trees had been cut back deliberately, creating sightlines, a smart, defensive move. I would’ve done the same thing if I’d had more time and fewer border disputes when I took over.
Guard towers sat in the canopy, concealed but visible if you knew what to look for. I counted three before I stopped seeking them. There would be more.
Bastian’s compound had been built for war. Mine had been built for survival. The difference sat tight in my belly.
A greenhouse ahead caught my attention. Glass panels and spelled timber, set apart from the main buildings. It hadn’t been here the last time I’d visited, something I’d done with each pack not long after I took over from my father.
The placement felt more exposed than I liked. It was too far from the main tree to be convenient for daily use. Had it been added recently?
Movement inside caught my eye, and I trotted over to stop in front of the entrance.
Victoria slid off my back, her field kit already in her hands.
“There’s a bear inside. I think it’s our bear, the one who ran toward me at the creek.
” Her voice remained level, like she was identifying a plant specimen instead of a shifter three times her size who could crush her skull with one swipe.
I shifted, stepping between her and the greenhouse entrance.
She eased around me and strode toward the door. “I need to see what’s inside.”
I caught up in three strides, my wolf snarling that she needed to let me go first. This was too dangerous.
But she was right. We needed to see what was in that greenhouse.
She pushed the door open.
The interior hit me with warmth and humidity, spelled conditions that maintained perfect growing temperatures regardless of the weather outside. Expensive magic. The kind that required regular maintenance and significant resources.
The bear shifter stood in the center, enormous as all bears were, his paws full of potted plants. He froze when we entered, his expression going through several stages before landing on guilty.
He tried to slide a tray of plants behind a larger specimen. A bear hiding plants from a wolf king?
My brain tried to process what I was seeing and came up empty.
A pot wobbled and nearly fell. He caught it, hugging it against his chest like it was precious.
Victoria stepped forward, her notebook already open, her enchanted pen hovering above it. She began dictating.
“Greenhouse interior: temperature-controlled environment, spelled for consistent conditions. A simple spell. I don’t sense witch involvement. Multiple plant varieties present, organized by species and growth stage. Evidence of regular maintenance and proper horticultural technique.”
The pen flew across the page, recording every word.
She moved closer to the tray the bear had tried to hide, leaning down to examine the contents, and her expression changed from recognition to understanding.
“Duskburst,” she gulped out. “Multiple specimens. Properly potted in ideal soil with correct drainage and sun exposure.” She touched one of the leaves, tracing the purple and white petals. “These are healthy and well-tended.”
The bear eased his weight from one foot to the other, looking like he wanted to bolt but couldn’t quite bring himself to abandon the plants.
I looked at the plants, then at the bear, then back at the plants. Something wasn’t adding up. If he’d grown these and understood duskburst well enough for this, then the placement at the seal site—
Acorn scampered over and stopped beside Victoria, chittering.
“Acorn says the one who tends a thing with care may not have planted it wrong elsewhere,” she said, the observation knocking me sideways.
If this bear understood proper duskburst cultivation, why would he plant them incorrectly at the seal site? These plants were perfect.
Unless he hadn’t planted them at all.
Victoria looked up at the bear, her expression thoughtful. “Did you visit the creek near the eastern boundary of my husband’s territory a few days ago?”
The bear’s eyes widened. His scent changed, spiking with fear mixed with shame. Turning, he dropped to all fours and bolted for the back entrance. The door banged open, and he disappeared into the trees beyond.
“Chase him.” Victoria started in that direction.
I caught her arm. “No.”
“But—”
“He’s scared.” I looked around the greenhouse again. “Chasing him through Bastian’s compound would start a fight I’m not ready to finish yet.”
She nodded, her gaze moving back to the plants. I could see her mind working, connecting pieces and building theories.
“Someone either stole some of these plants and placed them at the seal site or they convinced him to do it without telling him how or why.”
“Or they told him to do it wrong on purpose.”
“If he takes care of all this, he knows plants. Why would he agree to something like that?”
“Fear. Loyalty. Blackmail.” I gestured to the greenhouse. “Bears aren’t pack animals. He’s here alone, in Bastian’s territory, tending plants in a greenhouse that costs a lot to maintain. Someone’s protecting him, and that someone probably owns him.”
Victoria’s expression hardened. “If that’s the case, we need to find out who.”
We left the greenhouse and continued toward the main compound on foot, Bastian’s patrol shadowing us. Interesting that they’d let us enter the greenhouse.
The way Bastian’s territory sprawled out around us told me he’d been building his strength for years.
His pack had more trees than mine, many carved with residences and storage and training facilities.
The walkways and bridges spanned the canopy, connecting one tree to another, creating a three-dimensional compound instead of the ground-level one I maintained.
I noted all this the way I would a rival’s position on a battlefield, seeking weak points. Areas of strength. Resources and numbers.
He had more warriors than me and better infrastructure. Older magic woven into the trees themselves.
But he didn’t have Victoria.
She spoke softly beside me, her voice pitched for my ears only.
“His storage is exposed on the eastern side. I only see a single entry point and no exit. That would make it vulnerable to siege.” She paused.
“And his healer’s area is housed too close to the training ground.
Sound bleed during recovery would be significant. Patients need quiet to heal properly.”
I glanced at her sideways.
For her, this was a research expedition instead of a potential threat assessment. She was identifying his weaknesses without even realizing she was doing it.
I’d never wanted to kiss someone in the middle of a potential enemy compound before. I added it to the growing list of things Victoria had done for me that I hadn’t expected.
Our escort shifted into human form at the base of Bastian’s main tree.
One of them gestured toward the entrance. “The alpha is expecting you.”
The word choice was deliberate. Bastian had been ahead of this since we’d sent word. He’d had time to prepare and arrange whatever he wanted us to see and hide whatever he didn’t.
I walked toward the entrance with Victoria at my side, our footsteps echoing off the carved steps that wound up into the tree.
I didn’t ask her to wait outside. She was my queen. It wasn’t negotiable.
The hall was deliberately impressive and included a vaulted ceiling carved from living wood, higher than mine, with flowering vines woven through the beams. The vines glowed, spelled to provide light without fire.
Magical lights hung at intervals. The floor had been worn smooth by generations of paws and feet, and polished to a shine that reflected the lights.
Weapons lined one wall, with histories I didn’t know carved into the handles and blades.
The message was clear: We were here before you. We’ll be here after you’re gone.
Bastian sat on an elevated wooden chair near the center of the hall, relaxed in a way that cost him nothing. Two of his pack flanked him, both watching us with the kind of attention that came from years of protecting their alpha.
He wore traditional leathers in an older style than what my wolves preferred, with ceremonial markings stitched into the shoulders. The kind of thing you wore when you wanted to remind everyone you were connected to history.
We walked over to join him, and he greeted me with a nod, the exact minimum courtesy required of a subordinate alpha to his king. Enough to acknowledge rank without conceding authority.
His gaze moved to Victoria and flicked back to me, showing dismissal.
“Your witch,” he said, as if she was property or a decoration I’d brought to show off.
My wolf snarled, demanding I correct him, that I make him understand what he’d just done.
Victoria’s hand found my forearm, reminding me that losing my temper here would be exactly what Bastian wanted.
Acorn went rigid on her shoulder, however. I sensed he was preparing to launch himself at Bastian’s face.
I kind of wanted to let him.
“There was no reason for this visit, Feral,” Bastian said dryly.
“I planned to reach out myself soon about the treaty.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re young. There are things in motion here, things that have been in motion long before your time.
I’ve been managing them fine. You didn’t need to make the trip. ”
His condescension hung in the air.
He was trying to make me feel as if I was nineteen again, a new alpha unsure how to handle anything, one who’d inherited his position through tragedy instead of earning it through years of carefully built alliances.
He wanted to reinforce that he’d been doing this longer than me and that he knew more. That I should defer to his wisdom.
Victoria’s fingers tightened on my arm.
Acorn chirped.
She murmured the translation, her voice carrying the same detachment she used for notes. “He says the wolf who tells you not to look has something worth the looking.”
Bastian’s eyes flicked to the squirrel, and his expression showed a flash of fear, followed by recalculation.
He’d underestimated what he was dealing with.
He’d expected Victoria to be a distraction, a pretty witch for me to show off, maybe useful for border alliances but not relevant to pack business.
I let the silence stretch between us.
Then I met his eyes and let my wolf show through.
“You’re sabotaging my pack,” I snarled.