The first howl comes—the signal to take positions. I move to the edge of the grove with the others, my bare feet already aching against the rough ground. Behind us, I hear the males gathering, their energy wild and hungry.
I risk one glance back. Kieran stands at the front of the Silvercrest hunters, his eyes locked on me with possessive intent. The Moonclaw wolves flank him, their silver-tipped fur catching the moonlight. Grayback’s massive gray wolves pace behind them, nearly twice the size of normal wolves. The Red River Pack spreads out strategically, clearly planning to control the chase paths.
Only the Shadowmist wolves remain in the darkness. I catch glimpses of scarred black fur, of eyes that seem to glow in the shadows. And before them stands their alpha, his gaze locked on me.
My pulse spikes.
“Don’t look at him,” Kieran calls across the grove. “You’re mine, little seer.”
A cold jolt zips down my spine. I whirl toward the chase trails, yanking my focus forward.
Adrenaline floods my system, fire licking beneath my skin. My limbs vibrate, tense and twitching, caught between fight and flight. The scent of moss and loam hits me. Every nerve is alight, screamingrun, run, run.
The second howl pierces the night.
Time to choose my path. I know these woods, havememorized every bend, every hidden dip, every trick root that might snap an ankle.
But knowing a maze doesn’t mean you’ll outrun the monster inside it.
And Kieran knows them too.
My only chance is to do the unexpected. Something no one would predict.
As the moon crests the horizon, bathing the grove in light, a third howl splits the night.
The Claiming has begun.
I run.
Chapter
Two
Isprint into the darkness as she-wolves bound past me on all sides, streaks of fur and muscle slicing through the trees like wind incarnate. Their paws make barely a sound on the forest floor, while every branch I snap underfoot sounds like a gunshot in the quiet.
My breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps. My legs pump hard, but I’m clumsy and slower, my human form no match for the speed and elegance of the pack.
Branches whip at my bare skin, biting welts into my thighs and arms. My feet slip on damp leaves, stumble on roots. I’m loud. Exposed.
The forest feels alive, an endless, suffocating mass of trees and shadows closing in around me with every frantic, thudding step.
But unlike the others, who charge forward along the main paths, I veer sharply left.
Toward the one place no shifter in wolf form would willingly go.
The Dead Zone.
Years ago, silver miners had poisoned this section of forest, scarring the land beyond repair. The ground itself istoxic to wolves, burning their paws on contact and seeping into their bloodstream. But to my human feet? It’s just earth. Dangerous, yes, but not immediately deadly. Prolonged exposure to silver will still hurt me in this form—headaches, nausea, tissue damage if I stay too long—but in wolf form? The effect is instant.
Which makes this the one place in this cursed forest where I’ll have a slight advantage. If I can make it.
The change in the air is almost imperceptible at first, thicker, tinged with the metallic tang of old blood and decay. Even the trees seem twisted, gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, their leaves wilted and blackened from the lingering poison.
Behind me, I hear Kieran’s howl of frustration as he realizes my path. His growl reverberates through the forest, filled with fury and desperation. He can’t follow me through the Dead Zone in wolf form—none of them can. Not without risking silver poisoning.
I’ve bought myself minutes at most. But minutes might be enough to?—
A weight slams into me from the side, and everything shatters.
