Chapter 4
Chapter four
The morning of the run dawned cold and clear.
I met the others at the eastern edge of campus, where the manicured grounds gave way to dense forest. The trees stretched endlessly, a sea of green and brown that disappeared in the distance.
Rae was already there, clipboard in hand, looking like she hadn't slept. Ash stood beside her, one hand resting on her lower back—a casual touch that spoke of years of intimacy. He caught my eye and winked.
"Lulu," he said. "Ready to wrangle some wolves?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
Cole arrived next, flanked by two security officers I didn't recognize. Damn he looked hot in full tactical mode—black cargo pants, fitted long-sleeve shirt, earpiece tucked into his left ear. A tranquilizer rifle hung from a strap across his chest.
He didn't look at me.
I tried not to let that sting.
"Security protocol," he announced, addressing the group. His voice was flat. Professional. "We'll have a perimeter established within the first five minutes. Sensors are already active in a two-mile radius. If any feral breaks containment, we'll know immediately."
He gestured to the officers beside him. "Martinez and King will be stationed at the north and south points. I'll be mobile, tracking from the center." He held up a dart gun. "Tranquilizers are loaded and ready. Fast-acting. A feral goes down within three seconds of impact."
"Let's hope we don't need them," Rae said.
"Hope isn't a strategy." Cole's jaw tightened. "But I'll do my best to make it unnecessary."
Neal arrived a moment later, medical bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing jeans and a henley instead of his usual white coat, and the casual look did things to me. Made him seem younger. More approachable.
More like the man who'd pinned me to his sheets and made me forget my own name.
His eyes found mine across the clearing. Warm. Knowing.
Later, the look said.
I shivered.
"I brought sedatives," Neal said, setting his bag down. "Injectable, in case the darts aren't enough. Also basic first aid supplies, water, protein bars." He paused. "And coffee. Because I'm not a monster."
Ash laughed. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."
"Where are the ferals?" I asked.
"Being transported now," Rae said. "They'll arrive in—"
"I want to help."
We all turned.
James was striding across the ground, determination etched into every line of his body. He was dressed for the woods—boots, dark jeans, a jacket that hugged his broad shoulders.
God, my mates were beautiful.
Rae frowned. "James, this is a controlled exercise. Staff only."
"I'm pack." He stopped beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. The bond between us flared—warm, possessive, certain. "Stone is out there. Cal is out there. If something goes wrong, I want to be here."
"He's right," I said quietly.
Rae's eyes flicked to me. Then back to James.
"Fine," she said. "But you follow Cole's protocols to the letter. No heroics."
"Understood."
Cole's expression was unreadable, but I saw his hand tighten on his rifle strap. He didn't like this. Didn't like James being here, didn't like the easy way James touched me, didn't like any of it.
I filed that away for later.
The transport van arrived ten minutes later.
It was reinforced—steel walls, small windows, heavy locks. The kind of vehicle designed to contain things that didn't want to be contained.
My stomach knotted as the engine cut off.
The back doors swung open.
Cal came out first.
He was in human form, dressed in simple gray sweats. His eyes scanned the clearing until they found me. Something in his posture relaxed.
"Hey," I said softly.
"Hey yourself." He crossed to stand beside me, close but not touching. The bond between us hummed—steady, stable, nothing like the chaos of even a few weeks ago. "This is weird."
"Good weird or bad weird?"
"Ask me in an hour."
Stone came next.
He was tense. I felt it through the bond before I saw it in his body—the tight shoulders, the clenched jaw, the way his eyes darted to every shadow. The transport had been hard on him. Too enclosed. Too much like the rooms in his memories.
"Stone." I kept my voice calm. Steady.
His gaze snapped to me. Gold flickered in his irises.
"I'm here," I said. "You're okay."
He exhaled slowly. Nodded once. Moved to stand on my other side, bracketing me between himself and Cal.
James watched from a few feet away. His expression was carefully neutral, but I felt his attention through our bond. Alert. Watchful.
Gray came out third.
He was smaller than the others, slighter, his movements careful and hesitant. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as the handler guided him forward, shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself invisible.
But when he caught my scent, something changed.
His head came up. His nostrils flared.
And then he walked straight toward me.
The handler startled, reaching for his arm, but Gray slipped past him like water. He stopped two feet away from me, trembling, his eyes finally—finally—meeting mine.
"Hi, Gray," I said softly.
He made a sound. Low. Quiet. Almost like a whimper.
Then he sat down at my feet.
Just... sat. Right there on the cold ground, close enough that his shoulder pressed against my leg. His whole body went still. Calm.
I heard Neal inhale sharply behind me.
"Well," Ash murmured. "That's new."
The other ferals came next. Three of them, all in human form, all wearing the same gray sweats. Their handlers kept close, ready to intervene at the first sign of trouble.
One started pacing the moment his feet hit the ground. Back and forth, back and forth, a restless rhythm that set my teeth on edge. His eyes were wild. Unfocused.
Then he caught my scent.
He stopped pacing. Turned toward me.
And whined.
The sound was high and desperate, like a dog begging to be let inside. He took a step toward me, then another, his whole body straining in my direction even as his handler tried to hold him back.
"Easy," the handler said. "Easy—"
"Let him come," I said.
"Miss Orlav, I don't think—"
"Let him come."
The handler looked at Rae. She nodded.
He released his grip.
The feral crossed the clearing in quick, unsteady steps. He stopped a few feet away, chest heaving, eyes locked on my face.
"It's okay," I said quietly. "You're safe here."
He whined again. Dropped to his knees.
And pressed his forehead to my thigh.
The clearing went silent.
I felt everyone's eyes on me. Cole's sharp attention. Neal's clinical interest. Rae's growing concern. James's protective tension.
I didn't know what to do. Didn't know what this meant or why they were responding to me like this.
So I just stood there. Let Gray lean against my leg on one side and the young feral press his face to my other thigh. Let their weight ground me while my heart pounded in my chest.
"Okay," Rae said finally. Her voice was carefully controlled. "Let's... let's get started."
The shift happened in waves.
Cal went first, his transformation smooth and practiced. One moment he was standing beside me in human form; the next, a massive tawny wolf shook out his fur and huffed at me, gold eyes bright with something that looked almost like amusement.
Stone followed. His shift was rougher, more painful—I felt echoes of it through the bond, the crack of bones reshaping, the stretch of skin becoming fur. But when it was done, a dark gray wolf stood in his place, larger than Cal, his eyes fixed on me with fierce intensity.
Gray shifted next. His wolf was smaller, leaner, the color of ash and smoke. He stayed close to my legs, unwilling to stray more than a few feet.
The other ferals shifted too. The one who'd knelt before me became a sandy-colored wolf, his movements still restless but less frantic than before. The other two were darker—one black, one brown—and they hung back at the edges of the clearing, wary but watchful.
The wolves had arranged themselves around me in a loose semicircle, all of them oriented in my direction. Like I was the sun and they were satellites, unable to escape my gravity.
It should have felt strange. Instead, it felt... right.
"Let's move," Cole's voice crackled through Rae's radio. "Heading northwest. Keep the pace easy."
We started walking.
The forest swallowed us within minutes. The canopy filtered the morning light into dappled patterns on the ground, and the air smelled of pine and damp earth and the wild musk of wolves.
Neal fell into step beside me. Close enough that our shoulders brushed with every few strides.
"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.
"Overwhelmed."
"Understandable." His hand found the small of my back. A brief touch, gone almost as soon as it registered, but the bond between us flared warm. "You're doing well. They're calmer than I've ever seen them."
James was on my other side, a few feet away, moving through the underbrush with practiced ease. He kept his eyes on the wolves, but I felt his attention on me. The bond between us was a constant presence—steady, protective, ready to act if anything went wrong.
Stone's wolf padded closer. His shoulder brushed my hip as he walked, and a low rumble vibrated through his chest. Not a growl. Something softer. Possessive.
The sandy-colored wolf noticed.
He'd been trailing behind me, keeping his distance but never letting me out of his sight. Now he crept closer, head low, tail tucked—submissive posture, non-threatening.
He just wanted to be near me.
Stone's head whipped around.
The growl that ripped from his throat was anything but soft.
It was a warning. Deep, vicious, promising violence. His lips peeled back from his teeth, and the sandy wolf froze, ears flattening against his skull.
"Stone," I said sharply.
He ignored me. Stalked toward the other wolf, hackles raised, every line of his body screaming threat.
"Stone, stop."
He didn't stop.
The sandy wolf whimpered. Dropped to his belly. Showed his throat.
It wasn't enough. Stone kept advancing, that terrible growl still rumbling in his chest, and I felt his rage through the bond—hot, irrational, consuming. This wasn't about territory or dominance.
This was about me.
Mine, the bond screamed. Mine, mine, mine.
"Stone!"
I moved without thinking. Stepped between him and the cowering feral, put my hand on his muzzle, forced him to look at me.
His eyes were pure gold. The wolf was in control. The man was barely there.
"Stop," I said. My voice was steady. I had no idea how. "He's not a threat. Look at me. Look at me, Stone."
The growl faltered.
"That's it. Come back to me."
His eyes flickered.
"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. But you need to calm down."
For a long, terrible moment, I thought he wouldn't. Thought the wolf would win, thought I'd have to watch Cole put a dart in my mate's flank.
Then Stone shuddered. Pressed his muzzle into my palm. Let out a long, shaky breath.
He was still tense. Still radiating possessive fury. But he was back.
"Good," I whispered. "Good boy."
A huff. Indignant. Even as a wolf, Stone didn't appreciate being talked to like a pet.
I almost laughed.
Behind me, I heard James let out a breath he'd been holding. Felt Neal's relief pulse through our bond.
When I turned, they were looking at each other.
Their expressions were worried.
**
We played for two hours.
Or rather, they ran and played. I walked, following the trails at a human pace while the wolves streaked through the trees around me.
Sometimes they'd disappear entirely, swallowed by the forest, and I'd feel only echoes of them through the bonds—joy, freedom, the primal satisfaction of muscles stretching and lungs burning.
Then they'd circle back. Check on me. Make sure I was still there.
Stone never strayed far. He ran, yes—I could feel how much he needed it, how the movement helped quiet the chaos in his mind. But he always came back within minutes. Always positioned himself between me and the other ferals.
Cal was more relaxed. He ranged wider, exploring, occasionally returning to bump his shoulder against my hip before taking off again. Through the bond, I felt something I hadn't felt from him in weeks.
Peace.
Gray stayed glued to my side. Like a shadow with fur.
The staff watched all of it.
Cole tracked us from a distance, his rifle ready, his expression unreadable.
Martinez and King maintained the perimeter, checking in via radio every fifteen minutes.
Neal walked beside me for most of the run, taking notes on his phone, asking quiet questions about what I was feeling through the bonds.
Rae and Ash hung back, observing. I caught them whispering to each other more than once, their eyes on me.
I didn't know what they were saying. Wasn't sure I wanted to know.
By the time we circled back to the clearing, the sun was high overhead. The wolves were tired—good tired, the kind of exhaustion that came from exertion rather than anxiety. Even the restless sandy wolf had settled, his earlier frantic energy burned away by the run.
They shifted back one by one.
Stone was first. He emerged from the change breathing hard, sweat glistening on his skin, his eyes finally clear. He walked straight to me, cupped my face in his hands, pressed his forehead to mine.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"For what?"
"For stopping me. Earlier." His jaw tightened. "I almost—"
"You didn't."
He exhaled shakily.
Cal shifted next. He stretched, cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders. When he looked at me, there was something new in his eyes. Something I couldn't quite name.
The handlers collected the other ferals, guiding them back toward the transport van. Gray went reluctantly, looking over his shoulder at me with every step. The sandy wolf—actually whined when his handler pulled him away.
I watched them go. Felt the strange, aching pull in my chest.
"Lumi."
I turned.
Cal was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, expression serious.
"What?"
He glanced around. Made sure no one else was close enough to hear.
"Did you notice how they responded to you today?" he asked quietly. "Not just Stone and me. All of them."
"I noticed."
"Gray wouldn't leave your side. That other wolf—the restless one—he calmed down the second he got close to you, almost like you were pack."
I didn't know what to say. Didn't know what it meant. But the question burrowed into me and stayed there, unanswered, for the rest of the day.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Did you notice how they responded to you?
I had noticed. I just didn't understand why.
By morning, I knew I needed answers. Real answers. Not the clinical explanations Rae gave during staff meetings, not the carefully worded reports Neal compiled. I needed to understand what was happening to me—what I was doing to those ferals without meaning to.
There was only one place at Frosthaven that might have that information.