Chapter Five
Trinity
Morning comes quietly in Katu.
No shouted orders. No sharp-edged hierarchy snapping into place at dawn. Just the low hum of life beginning again—boots on packed earth, the hiss of a kettle, laughter drifting from somewhere near the center of the compound. It feels wrong, how gentle it is. Like the calm before the storm.
I lie there for a few minutes anyway, watching the light creep across the ceiling of Grayson’s cabin, feeling the steady warmth of him at my back.
He’s still asleep. I know because the bond tells me—soft, constant, and patient.
He holds me like he is afraid I’ll disappear and even though I thought I would be freaking out right now, all I feel is calm.
I roll onto my side, studying him while he continues to sleep. The scar along his shoulder is pale and old. Earned, not decorative. His breathing is even, relaxed in a way I don’t remember ever seeing in another wolf when they slept beside someone.
“This is dangerous,” a voice in my head warns but I already know that.
I ease out of bed without waking him and dress quietly, pulling on borrowed clothes that smell like him and the pack and something steadier than either. When I step outside, the morning air hits my lungs sharp and clean.
The dead are waiting and I can’t keep hiding from them.
They don’t cross the inner boundary of the compound. They hover at the tree line, shapes half-formed, restless and murmuring. Wolves mostly. A few others, shifters whose bones never made it home, whose names were swallowed by time.
“You should not be here,” one whispers, a female with her chest caved in.
“I know,” I murmur under my breath.
A large male is leaning against a post nearby, pretending not to watch me. His eyes flick briefly to the tree line, then back to me. His scent tightens.
He doesn’t see them. But he feels them.
I walk toward the training ring instead.
The ghosts follow along the edge of the territory like they’re pacing a fence I can’t see.
Their whispers rise and fall, urgent but unfocused.
They always do when there’s movement, when wolves are planning something, when danger stirs but hasn’t yet taken shape.
Training is already underway when I arrive. A female’s voice carries clearly across the ring, sharp and confident as she corrects a young male’s stance. A different male watches from the sidelines, arms crossed, gaze assessing but not cruel.
“Pair up,” she calls. “And no posturing. If you’re here to impress, you’re already losing.”
A few wolves chuckle. I hesitate at the edge, unsure where I fit. Fighter. Guest. Mate. Trinity.
She spots me and lifts her chin. “Have you trained before?” She doesn’t bother with introductions.
“Yes,” I say.
“Show me.”
She tosses me a practice blade without ceremony. I catch it easily, the familiar weight grounding me. The ghosts quiet a fraction, curious now. I face my opponent, a broad-shouldered male, older and heavier than me. He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t underestimate me. Good.
“Go,” the female snaps.
We move. My body remembers even when my heart stutters. I duck, pivot, and strike, not hard enough to injure, but fast enough to warn. He counters with controlled force, testing my balance. We circle, dirt scuffing under our boots, breath coming faster.
I don’t think. I react. It’s only when I disarm him cleanly and step back that I realize the ring has gone quiet.
Her smile is sharp with approval. “Again.”
We spar twice more before she waves us off. My arms burn. My lungs ache. But it feels good, It feels normal.
A male nods once at me as I step out of the ring. “I’m Calum and that’s my mate Talon,” he says with a nod toward the female now scolding two younger fighters. “You’ll do well here.”
Praise, Katu-style. I wipe sweat from my brow and glance instinctively toward the tree line. The ghosts are louder now. Closer.
A young male pushes forward, his features blurred with panic. “They are watching,” he says. “The cages are ready.”
My stomach tightens but I school my face into neutrality and turn back toward the pack. Grayson stands near the edge of the ring, eyes on me, concern threading through the bond.
I give him a small nod.
Not now.
Pack life continues around me, wolves rotating through training, someone arguing over rations, a pair of children racing past with wild laughter. Peyton crosses the clearing with a basket of herbs, pausing to speak with an older woman near the infirmary.
“Our new family,” my wolf whispers, aching.
I don’t answer her. I know from experience most wolves can’t talk to their wolves directly. It’s just another way that I am different from everyone else. That and the damn ghosts who won’t stop whispering.
They follow me through the day as I’m assigned small tasks, helping a woman named Ingrid unload supplies, repairing a section of fence, sharing a meal at the long table where no one questions my presence or my appetite.
I am introduced to fighters and healers, new and old pack members, and shifters who aren’t wolf but panther or leopard.
And even a human named Iris who is mated to two wolves.
It’s too much and somehow grounding at the same time. It fills me with a sense of belonging and scares the shit out of me all at once.
Every time I glance toward the woods, there they are. Waiting. Watching.
“Soon,” they murmur in a chorus. “Soon.”
****
By late afternoon, my nerves are shot.
I slip away from the compound under the excuse of checking snares, moving just far enough toward the tree line that the air shifts and the dead press closer. The moment I cross that invisible threshold, they surge forward, voices overlapping in a rush that makes my head spin.
“Stop,” I hiss. “One at a time.”
They listen. Always have.
A male steps forward, older, his features calm despite the wounds that mark him as long dead. “Beware the Hunters,” he says. “They are setting a trap.”
My chest tightens. I’ve heard of these Hunters in the time I have been on my own and I know that they are dangerous to all shifters. “Where?”
“South by the old quarry. They’re expecting the wolves who rescue the trapped.”
Images bleed into my mind, metal cages in rows upon rows, silver threaded through traps, and scent bait strong enough to make a shifter reckless.
“Who told you?” I whisper.
“We saw,” another ghost says simply. “We linger where we died.”
My hands curl into fists. This isn’t new. The hunters have been circling for months, testing the edges of Katu territory. I’ve heard the talk, felt the fear spread through the pack. But this, this feels deliberate. Targeted.
“They’ll get slaughtered,” I murmur.
“Unless you warn them,” the first ghost says gently.
I swallow hard. The problem with the truth is that once you speak it, you can’t take it back.
Grayson finds me just inside the tree line, my shoulders tight, and my gaze unfocused. He doesn’t ask what I’m doing out here. He just steps close enough that the bond steadies me.
“You’re shaking,” he says quietly.
“I’m fine.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You need to lie better.”
I huff out a breath despite myself. “Okay, I’m not fine. But I will be. Eventually.”
We stand there for a moment, the forest breathing around us. He follows my gaze to the empty space just beyond the boundary. “You’re listening again,” he says. “What do you hear?”
I freeze.
“You don’t see anything?” I ask carefully.
“No.” His voice is calm. “But I can feel when something’s wrong. With you. With the bond.”
I close my eyes.
“This is how it starts,” the voice of memory whispers. “Curiosity. Concern. Fear.”
“I’m not ready,” I say hoarsely.
“I’m not asking you to tell me anything,” he replies. “I’m telling you that whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”
The ghosts shift uneasily, their whispers turning anxious.
“Tell him,” one urges.
“Not yet,” another warns.
I open my eyes and meet Grayson’s gaze. He isn’t demanding. He isn’t offended that I am keeping something from him. He’s just waiting and offering support.
“I need time,” I say.
He nods immediately. “Then you have it.”
The ease of his acceptance hits me harder than any accusation could have. As we walk back toward the compound together, the dead fall silent but not satisfied. This isn’t over, not by a long shot.
****
Hours later the pack gathers around the bonfire in the center of the compound and plans begin to circulate in low, careful voices.
There are rumors of hunter movement and whispers of a possible raid to rescue captured shifters from the clutches of the Hunters.
I sit quietly beside Grayson, my smile practiced and my heart pounding.
Because now I know something they don’t. And the dead are counting on me to decide whether the truth saves them... Or costs me everything I’ve just begun to build.