The Wolf tracks it. His amber eyes glow in the gloom. He paces the ground, waiting, calculating.
The drone pilot makes a mistake. He dips the machine, trying to get a sensor lock on me standing in the doorway.
That’s all the Wolf needs.
He springs. It’s a kinetic marvel, a release of stored energy that launches him twelve feet into the air. His claws hook the drone’s landing strut. He drags it down, his weight slamming it into the earth. He tears into it, ripping circuitry and plastic apart with savage efficiency until the humming stops.
Silence returns to the swamp.
I stand frozen on the porch. My hands are shaking, but not from cold.
He is magnificent.
He stands over the ruin of the machine, chest heaving, steam rising from his black coat. He turns his head. Those gold eyes lock onto mine.
I should be terrified. He is a monster. An apex predator capable of tearing through metal.
But I don't feel fear. I feel a strange, vibrating resonance in my own chest. A hum in my blood.
Do I have that?I wonder, my hand drifting to the birthmark sitting on my neck.Is there a creature like that sleeping inside my DNA? Is that what Matilde is so afraid of?
The Wolf trots toward the stairs. He moves silently now, the mud barely shifting under his weight. He climbs the steps and stops in front of me.
He is huge. His head is level with my chest. I can smell him—wet fur, iron, and the deep, earthy scent of the bayou.
I reach out.
My fingers sink into the thick ruff around his neck. The fur is coarse, wire-tough, but warm.
He leans into my touch. He presses his massive head against my stomach, a heavy, solid weight. A low rumble starts in his chest—a purr that is deep enough to rattle my ribs.
"You're safe," I whisper, the words slipping out.
He huffs, hot breath dampening my shirt.
Then, an image flashes in my mind. This powerful, beautiful creature, broken and bloody in the mud. Silver bullets tearing through this fur. Matilde’s magic burning him from the inside out.
My stomach twists into a cold knot. He is strong, yes. But he isn't invincible. My father was an Enforcer—stronger than an Alpha—and they killed him. They mutilated him.
"Jax," I choke out.
He pulls back. He looks at me, sensing the shift in my pheromones. The distress.
He turns and trots back down the stairs. He disappears behind the generator shed.
A moment later, Jax walks out. He’s human again, naked, wet, and streaked with mud. He doesn't seem to care about the nudity. He walks to the wrecked drone closest to the porch and crouches down.
I limp down the stairs, grabbing the flannel shirt I discarded earlier to wrap around myself.
"What is it?" I ask.
Jax is prying something off the twisted metal of the drone’s body. It’s a plastic canister, taped to the underside.
He rips the tape. He pulls out a rolled-up piece of heavy parchment.
"A message," he says, his voice flat.
He stands up and hands it to me.
