Images press into my mind unbidden—an abandoned quarry, the earth torn open and reshaped by human machines long gone.I see cages in rows.Silver dust worked into pressure plates.Scent bait laced with blood and desperation.
My stomach turns.
“They know about the rescues,” I whisper.
The woman nods.“They know the pattern.They know the wolves won’t leave captives behind.”
I sag back against the porch post, nausea rising.The Katu wolves have been careful, scouting, rotating routes, and never charging in blind.But the hunters are adapting.Learning.Evolving.
“How many Hunters are there?”I ask.
“Enough.Too many,”a young male answers grimly.His throat is a ruin, the wound still raw in death.“More than before.They’re not planning to take any prisoners this time.”
My wolf snarls, rage and fear tangling tight in my chest.
“Who are they targeting?”I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“All of them,”he replies.
The ghosts shift, their forms rippling with agitation.They crowd closer, urgency bleeding into the air.
“They will die if you stay silent,”the woman says gently.“You know we’re right.You’ve seen this before.”
I have.Too many times.
I close my eyes, memories crashing in whether I want them to or not, packs rushing into traps because they trusted the land they knew, wolves torn apart by silver and bullets, their spirits clinging to me afterward because no one else would listen.
My own pack.“Your fault,”a cruel voice whispers and I shove it away.
When I open my eyes, the compound looks the same.Warm sunlight.Wolves laughing.I didn’t even realize I had started pacing but now Grayson’s cabin is a short distance away, the bond humming steadily, unaware of the storm gathering just beyond the trees.
I can still choose silence.
That’s the worst part.Nothing is forcing my hand.I could tell myself it’s not my responsibility.That the pack has scouts and trackers and leaders who know what they’re doing.I could tell myself that revealing the truth will change everything, and not for the better.
My old alpha’s voice echoes in my head, cold and absolute.Truth is a weapon.
I step away from the center of the compound and Grayson’s cabin and make my way toward the tree line instead, the ghosts falling into step around me like a grim honor guard.The closer I get to the boundary, the heavier the air feels, as if the land itself is holding its breath.
I stop just short of crossing.“If I tell them,” I say quietly, “they’ll look at me differently.”
“They already do,”the woman replies.“They just don’t know why yet.”
“I don’t want to lose this,” I whisper.The words hurt more than I expect.“I don’t want to lose him.”My heart breaks at the mere thought of losing Grayson.
The ghosts don’t answer right away.Finally, the young male steps forward.“You won’t,”he says,“but you might lose yourself if you don’t speak.You won’t be able to handle the guilt when someone gets killed.”
The truth lands heavy and undeniable.I turn back toward the compound just as voices rise near the fire—Caine’s deep and steady, Calum’s with a sharper edge threading through it.Planning voices.Measured and serious.
My heart stutters.They’re already talking about it.The raid to save captured shifters from the Hunters.I walk toward the center of the compound and the dining hall on unsteady legs, the ghosts retreating to the tree line but not leaving.They never leave.They hover, they watch, and they wait to see what I’ll do with the information they have given me.
Grayson sits beside them at the table and spots me immediately.The bond flares with concern as he stands and moves toward me, stopping a foot away from me, enough to offer the space I often need but close enough to touch if I need it.
“What’s wrong?”he asks quietly.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, fear clogging up my throat.
Behind him, the pack has gathered.Caine is waiting at the center with Peyton beside him.Talon leans forward with her elbows on her knees and Max stands just behind them with his gaze fixed on the tree line beyond the compound.
