Axle excuses himself, mentioning something about checking in with Oren. That leaves Reeyan and me alone in the suddenly quiet house.
He moves around the kitchen, tidying counters and putting away books. “Ready?” He grabs his keys from the counter.
Am I ready? Ready to face my pack’s elder with questions about a curse? Ready to return to Llewelyn territory after everything that’s happened? Ready to acknowledge what Reeyan and I have become to each other?
No. I’m not ready for any of it.
But I’m going anyway.
Chapter 16 - Reeyan
Crossing into Llewelyn territory feels like walking into a frozen wasteland.
The temperature doesn’t only drop. The landscape remains the same tundra-meets-forest terrain that characterizes this northern section of the valley. But something about the atmosphere changes the moment we pass the border markers. It feels colder, more hostile. Like the land itself knows I don’t belong here.
Sera walks beside me with her spine straight and her face neutral, looking every inch the proper Llewelyn woman—reserved, controlled, and untouchable. Nothing in her demeanor gives away that less than twenty-four hours ago, she was in my bed, coming apart beneath me while I learned every sound she makes when pleasure overwhelms her.
The memory makes my wolf restless. Protective. He doesn’t like how she’s retreated behind those walls, even though I understand why she needs to. This is her territory. Her pack. Her people watching us with varying degrees of suspicion and hostility.
A patrol intercepts us before we’ve gone half a mile past the border. Four Llewelyn warriors, all female, all regarding me with the kind of cold assessment that usually precedes violence.
“Sera Thornwick,” the lead warrior—tall, dark-haired, built like someone who could break me in half—addresses her without looking at me. “Matriarch Lydia said you’d be crossing today with a guest. Didn’t mention the guest would be male.”
“Reeyan Hale. Grayhide historian and strategic advisor,” Sera introduces me. “He’s here under official pack sanction toassist with the investigation into potential supernatural threats. My aunt approved his presence.”
“Your aunt approved a male wolf entering Llewelyn territory after what Bastian did?” The warrior finally looks at me, and the disgust in her eyes is unmistakable. “Forgive us if we’re not thrilled about another one of you walking our lands.”
I keep my hands visible and my posture non-threatening. “I understand your concerns. The infiltration by a male operative violated your pack’s trust. You have every right to be cautious. I’m here only to help Sera access information that might protect your territory from future threats.”
“Pretty words from a Grayhide wolf.” Another warrior—shorter, red-haired, with a scar across her left cheek—circles around behind me. “How do we know you’re not another infiltrator? Another male sent to exploit our supposed vulnerabilities?”
Sera steps slightly in front of me, and my wolf both appreciates the protection and bristles at needing it. “Because Matriarch Lydia vetted him personally. The inter-regional agreement grants him authority to investigate threats that affect multiple territories. And, most importantly, I trust him.”
The last statement makes all four warriors go very still. Trust isn’t something Llewelyn women give easily, and hearing Sera declare it publicly carries weight I’m not sure I’ve earned.
“You trust him.” The lead warrior’s tone makes it clear what she thinks of that decision. “Word is he kept you in Grayhide territory against your will?”
“You shouldn’t listen to rumors,” Sera lies. “I stayed because the investigation required it. Reeyan provided protection when Thornridge operatives tried to kidnap me. Now, are you going to let us pass, or do I need to contact my aunt andhave her clarify that her authorization includes actual access to our territory?”
The warriors glance at one another. Whatever silent communication passes between them ends with the lead warrior stepping aside.
“Isla Moonwhisper is expecting you at her cottage. You remember the way?”
“I remember.” Sera moves past them, and I follow, acutely aware of four sets of eyes tracking my every movement.
We walk in silence for another ten minutes before Sera speaks. “I’m sorry about that. The pack is on edge after Bastian. Male wolves aren’t welcome here right now, sanction or not.”
“You don’t need to apologize. They have every right to be suspicious. Though I appreciate you defending my presence.”
“You’re here to help break a curse that’s been destroying my pack for three centuries. The least I can do is make sure they don’t tear you apart before we get to Isla’s cottage.”
The path takes us deeper into Llewelyn territory. Unlike Grayhide’s desert landscape, this region is nothing but frozen tundra stretching endlessly in all directions. Ice and snow cover the ground even in late spring, and the wind cuts through my jacket with a bite that makes my eyes water. The few trees that manage to survive here are stunted and twisted, bent permanently by the relentless cold. This is a harsh land that breeds harsh people, and I’m starting to understand why Llewelyn women are known for their ice-cold reserve.
We pass more pack members along the way. All female. A few nod to Sera with something approaching warmth, but none of them acknowledge my existence except to watch me like I’m a threat waiting to materialize.
“Is it always this welcoming?” I ask after we’ve been subjected to yet another round of suspicious stares.
“No. Usually, it’s worse.” Sera’s mouth twitches. “You’re getting the diplomatic treatment because my aunt ordered it. Normally, male wolves who cross our borders uninvited get escorted out with extreme prejudice.”
