12. Cade
CADE
“Again.”
The word cracks across the clearing like a command. Gideon doesn’t hesitate. He comes at me fast—faster than most in the pack—his weight shifting low, aiming to take me off balance instead of meeting strength head-on.
Smart. It still isn’t enough. I pivot at the last second, catching his momentum and redirecting it, sending him skidding across the packed dirt of the training ground. He rolls once, comes up on his feet, and immediately circles back.
Good. No hesitation. The pack watches from the edges of the clearing, silent, focused. They should be. This isn’t routine training. This is preparation. It’s in the air. The tension. The anticipation. The underlying edge of something none of us are saying out loud yet.
War.
Gideon lunges again. This time I meet him head-on. We collide hard, the impact reverberating through my bones as I shove him back. He recovers quickly, striking again—sharp, controlled, testing my guard. I block, counter, force him back a step.
“Faster,” I snap.
“You’re not exactly holding back,” he shoots back.
“Neither are they.”
That shuts down any argument. We move again. Strike. Block. Counter. Every motion is deliberate, efficient. There’s no wasted energy. There can’t be. Because the hybrids aren’t fighting like animals anymore. They’re adapting. Learning.
The memory of the ravine flashes through my mind—the tracks, the device, the coordinated attack. The way one of them ran instead of fighting. Gathering information.
I drive Gideon back again, forcing him to stumble this time.
“Enough,” Garrett’s voice cuts in.
We both step back immediately. Gideon exhales hard, wiping sweat from his brow.
“You’re in a mood today,” he says, stating the obvious.
I ignore him. Garrett steps forward, his presence commanding instant attention from everyone in the clearing.
“That’s because the situation has changed,” he says.
No one argues. They can feel it too. Garrett’s gaze lands on me.
“You’re pushing harder than necessary.”
“I’m pushing as hard as we’ll need,” I reply.
A flicker of something passes through his expression. Concern. Assessment.
“Or you’re pushing because you’re distracted,” he says.
The words land sharper than any strike Gideon threw.
“I’m not distracted.”
Garrett raises an eyebrow.
“No?”
A low murmur moves through the pack. They all know what he’s referring to. Eliza.
I keep my expression neutral.
“This isn’t about her.”
Garrett steps closer.
“Everything right now is about her.”
My wolf stirs immediately. Protect. I force it down.
“This is about the hybrids,” I say evenly.
“And your judgment regarding them,” Garrett counters.
Silence falls. Heavy. Measured. He’s not questioning my strength. He’s questioning my control.
“I’ve led hunts before,” I say. “I know how to separate instinct from strategy.”
Garrett studies me.
“Do you?”
The challenge is quiet. But unmistakable. Before I can respond, Nolan’s voice cuts in.
“If we’re done with the philosophical debate,” he says, “I’ve got something you’re going to want to see.”
Every head turns toward him. Garrett doesn’t break eye contact with me.
“Report.”
Nolan pushes off the tree he’s leaning against and walks into the clearing, his usual easy demeanor replaced with something tighter.
“Another livestock hit,” he says. “Eastern boundary.”
A ripple of tension moves through the group.
“How recent?” Garrett asks.
“Within the last hour.”
My focus sharpens instantly.
“How many?” I ask.
“Enough,” Nolan replies grimly. “And they didn’t just take what they needed.”
That tells me everything. This wasn’t feeding. It was escalation.
“Show us,” Garrett says.
The scent hits before we even reach the site. Blood. Fear. And beneath it— That same wrongness. Hybrid.
I step into the clearing slowly, my gaze sweeping over the scene. Three cattle lie scattered across the ground. Torn apart. Not clean kills. Not efficient. Messy. Violent. Deliberate.
“They’re getting bolder,” Gideon mutters.
“No,” I say quietly. “They’re getting closer.”
Garrett crouches near one of the carcasses, examining the wounds.
“Claw marks,” he says. “But deeper than before.”
“Stronger,” Nolan adds.
I move to the clearing, scanning the tree line. The forest presses in close here. Too close.
“They’re testing boundaries,” I say. “Seeing how far they can push before we respond.”
Gideon crosses his arms.
“And we’re standing right in the middle of the answer.”
“Yes.”
I turn back toward the scene. Something feels off. Not just the violence. The pattern. I step closer to one of the bodies and crouch, ignoring the thick scent of blood. There. Beneath it.
Faint. But unmistakable. I inhale again, slower this time. Confirming. My chest tightens.
“What is it?” Nolan asks.
I don’t answer immediately. Because I don’t want to say it out loud. But I have to.
“They’re tracking her.”
The words settle into the clearing like a weight. Garrett straightens slowly.
“Explain.”
I gesture toward the ground.
“Her scent,” I say. “It’s here.”
Gideon frowns.
“That’s not possible. She hasn’t been anywhere near this boundary.”
“I know.”
Nolan’s expression shifts.
“Then how—”
“They’re carrying it,” I say.
Silence. Heavy. Understanding begins to settle. Garrett’s eyes narrow.
“Like a marker.”
“Yes.”
A cold realization builds in my chest.
“They don’t need her to be here,” I continue. “They just need to recognize her scent.”
“And once they do,” Nolan says slowly, “they follow it.”
“Anywhere,” I finish.
Gideon exhales sharply.
“That’s… not good.”
No. It’s not. Because it means distance doesn’t matter. Safety zones don’t matter. If they can track her scent, they can find her. Anywhere. Garrett looks back at the bodies, his expression hardening.
“This wasn’t random,” he says.
“No.”
“This was a message.”
“Yes.”
I meet his gaze.
“They’re getting closer on purpose.”
A tense silence follows. Then— A rustle in the trees. Every head snaps toward the sound. I shift partially without thinking, senses sharpening, muscles tightening.
“Show yourself,” Garrett calls.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then a figure stumbles out of the tree line. One of our scouts. Blood stains his sleeve, his breathing uneven. He barely makes it a few steps before dropping to one knee.
“I found them,” he says hoarsely.
I move instantly, catching him before he collapses.
“Easy,” I say.
Garrett steps closer.
“How many?” he asks.
The scout shakes his head weakly.
“Too many,” he says. “At least a dozen… maybe more.”
A dozen. My jaw tightens.
“Location?” I ask.
“Deeper in the mountains,” he says. “Moving together.”
“Coordinated?” Garrett presses.
“Yes.”
Of course they are. The scout looks up at me, his eyes wide.
“They weren’t just moving,” he says. “They were following something.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“What do you mean?” Nolan asks.
The scout swallows hard.
“Like they had a leader.”
Silence. Heavy. Dangerous. I exchange a look with Garrett. We’re thinking the same thing. This isn’t just a group of enhanced predators. This is something structured. Something organized. Something evolving. Garrett straightens slowly.
“Get him back to Clara,” he orders.
Gideon nods and helps the scout to his feet. As they move away, Nolan exhales.
“Well,” he laughs humorlessly, “that’s a nightmare.”
I don’t respond. Because my mind is already moving ahead. Connecting pieces. The coordinated attacks. The tracking. The device in the ravine. Now this. A leader.
My wolf shifts uneasily beneath my skin. Not fear. Recognition. Something out there is controlling them. And whatever it is— It’s getting closer. Garrett turns to me.
“We need to escalate patrols immediately.”
“Already planning it,” I say.
He nods once. But his gaze sharpens.
“And Eliza?”
There it is again. The question behind every decision.
“She stays under protection,” I say.
Garrett watches me carefully.
“At all times.”
“Yes.”
His expression tightens slightly.
“You’re certain that won’t interfere with your judgment?”
I meet his gaze without hesitation.
“No.”
A beat. Then—
“Good,” he says.
But I can tell he’s not entirely convinced. And maybe— Just maybe— He shouldn’t be. Because as I stand there, surrounded by blood and the scent of something wrong moving through our territory, one truth is clearer than anything else. This isn’t going to stop.
I don’t move right away. The others start shifting into action—Gideon organizing a retrieval team, Nolan already mapping patrol adjustments out loud—but I stay where I am, staring at the ruined clearing like I can force it to give me something more.
Something useful. Something I missed. Because there’s always something. My wolf prowls just beneath the surface, restless, agitated. Not from the blood. Not from the violence.
From the pattern.
“They’re herding us.”
The thought slips out. Garrett pauses mid-step.
“Explain.”
I drag a hand through my hair, still scanning the tree line.
“They hit different points along the boundary,” I say slowly. “Each time, a little closer. A little more aggressive.”
Nolan frowns. “That’s not herding. That’s escalation.”
“It’s both,” I counter. “They’re forcing us to spread out. Stretching patrols thinner.”
Understanding flickers across Gideon’s face.
“So while we’re reacting—”
“They’re positioning,” I finish.
Garrett’s expression darkens.
“For what?”
I finally tear my gaze away from the clearing.
“For a breach.”
The word lands heavy. Final. No one argues. Because we all feel it now—that shift in the air, that tightening coil of inevitability.
“They’re not just testing us anymore,” I continue. “They’re preparing.”
“And if they’re preparing,” Nolan says quietly, “then that means—”
“They already know where to hit.” Silence. My chest tightens as the implications settle.
Because if they know that— If they’ve marked Eliza the way I think they have— Then this was never about territory. Never about livestock. Never even about dominance. It was always about her. My hands curl into fists at my sides. A low growl builds in my chest.
Garrett hears it. Of course he does.
“Cade.”
A warning. I force a slow breath in through my nose, dragging my control back into place piece by piece. But the truth doesn’t change.
“They’re coming for her,” I say.
No one speaks. No one tries to soften it. Because there’s nothing to soften. I lift my head, meeting Garrett’s gaze again.
“This ends now,” I tell him. “We stop reacting. We hunt them.”
Something in my voice shifts the air. Not anger. Not fear. Decision. Garrett nods.
“Then we take the fight to them.”