We endedup in Daniel's truck, heading away from town on roads that got progressively narrower and more questionable. Trees pressed close on either side, branches scraping the roof like curious fingers.
“You're not planning to murder me and dump my body in the woods, are you?” I asked. “Because I feel like I should have asked that before getting in the vehicle.”
Daniel's hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Why would I murder you?”
“I don't know. Maybe you're secretly a serial killer who preys on people who ask too many questions.”
“If I was going to murder you, I wouldn't use my own truck. Too easy to trace.”
“That's... oddly specific knowledge.”
“I've had to dispose of bodies before.” He glanced at me, and I caught the ghost of amusement in his eyes. “Deer, mostly. Sometimes hikers find carcasses and panic. Easier to move them before anyone starts asking questions about 'animal attacks.'”
“And here I thought pack life was all moonlit runs and dramatic howling.”
“There's plenty of that too. But also garbage disposal, property taxes, and making sure younger wolves don't post shift videos on social media.”
“That's happened?”
“Twice. Jonah was responsible for both incidents.” Daniel's expression went pained. “He thought he was being 'relatable.'”
I laughed. Actually laughed, the sound surprising me with how easy it came. “Please tell me someone saved those videos.”
“They have been permanently deleted from all known servers.”
“But not from pack memory?”
“Pack memory is eternal and merciless.” He turned onto a dirt road that made the truck bounce in ways that couldn't be good for the suspension. “We're almost there.”
“There being...?”
“Somewhere I want to show you.”
“That's not ominous at all.”
Daniel didn't respond, but I caught the slight curve of his lips. He was enjoying this. The mysterious Alpha routine, keeping me guessing. It should have been annoying.
It wasn't.
The road ended at a small clearing where the trees pulled back to reveal a trailhead marked by a wooden post so weathered I couldn't read the carved letters. Daniel parked, killed the engine, and sat for a moment looking at the forest like he was having a conversation I couldn't hear.
“I haven't brought anyone here in years,” he said quietly.
“Should I feel honored?”
“You should feel hungry. I packed food.” He reached into the back seat, pulled out a canvas bag I hadn't noticed. “Come on.”
We walked.
The trail was narrow but well-maintained, winding through old-growth forest that made the trees near town look like saplings. These were ancient. Massive. Their trunks wider than cars, their branches forming a canopy so thick that the light filtering through looked green and gold and something close to magical.
Daniel moved like he belonged here. Silent. Sure-footed. Every few minutes his head would turn, tracking something I couldn't see, nostrils flaring slightly as he processed scents my human nose couldn't detect.
“You're doing the thing,” I said.
He looked back at me. “What thing?”
“The wolf thing. Where you look like you're listening to the forest gossip about me.”
