Chapter 3
Rowen
The Hollow felt wrong.
Not broken. Not bleeding.
Just…off.
Like returning home and knowing you’d locked the door when you left, only to find the door was still open. That kind of wrongness—that nagging feeling you couldn’t shake.
I walked the path toward the druid’s tent with Wolfe’s presence vibrating gently through the bond. He was getting battle-ready; he was pretending he wasn’t, but he forgot I could feel him now more than ever since the mate bond completed.
My mate was burning hot with fury.
And beside that fury was this other new feeling. I couldfeelthe land tugging at me as I walked. I was wearing soft leather boots, but it felt like I was walking barefoot. I could feel it beneath me—an insistent pulse beneath the soil, through my bloodstream like a second heartbeat.
I hadn’t felt this yesterday.
“Are you sure you want to go alone?”Wolfe asked through the bond, and I knew he must have felt my uneasiness.
“If you come, you’ll growl the whole time, and the tent might spontaneously combust,”I teased him.
I could feel his snort through the bond. “I’m always close.”
“I know.” I felt the caress, even through the bond, and the whisper of a promise of later. I smiled even though he couldn’t see me, recalling how gentle he was with those young ones earlier. Adair and I always checked in with the young ones. They rotated through the pack; offers had been made to one or the other to have a more permanent place, but they wouldn’t be separated.
I thought it was because they wanted to stay together, but now I wasn’t sure if it was because therightoffer of home hadn’t been made.
I’d seen the way Ciara snuggled into Brand. Heard Fitz’s laughter as Killian threw him on his back like he was nothing more than a backpack. Saw the light in my husband’s eyes as he cradled Lake in the crook of his arm.
Seeing their gentleness with them today, I felt uneasy as I thought about how I’d misjudged them when they first came here. I’d been ready to kill Killian a few times myself. Brand was intimidating, and Diesel…well, the less said about our initial meeting, the better.
Now they were the ones who were fighting for Blueridge Hollow as fiercely as, if not more than, my pack. In quiet moments like this, I didn’t know what to do with that.
I’d been wrong.
I hoped they knew now that I trusted them all, and that they trusted me in turn. It still stung to think Wolfe hadthought I was acting against him, but in truth, I’d given him the room to doubt.
The druid’s tent stood exactly where it always did—weathered canvas, bone charms clinking softly in the breeze, that faint smell of sage and something older curling around the entrance. Strange but familiar. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze.
The air felt as if it were trembling. Not visibly. Not magically. Just…deeply. Like the Hollow itself was exhaling. The druid turned before the flap even closed behind me. Their head dipped once, in something that wasn’t quite a bow but wasn’t a sign of disrespect either.
“You felt it,” they said simply. Their eyes narrowed as they considered me. “Are still feeling it,” they mused. “Interesting.”
I swallowed. “Because of the decree?”
“Probably.” Their eyes darkened with something ancient. “Or the Hollow itself.”
My pulse stuttered. “What is it feeling?”
“Violation,” the druid said. “Intrusion.” Their gaze flicked to the ground as if they could hear the soil itself whispering. “The Pack Council’s decree was an attempt to strip it of identity. To sever you from it.”
My breath caught. “And can they do that?”
“Theybelieve they can,” the druid murmured. “They believe a scroll of paper and a press of metal to molten wax silences a land older than any of their bloodlines.”
Anger surged in my chest, hot and sharp. “They just declared my pack dead—declared this place dead. And you didn’t warn us. You didn’t say a word.” I shook my head in disbelief. “You knew this was coming long before today.”
