Dominic looked up sharply. “You think they were nesting here?”
“Passing through,” Julian said. “Resting. Maybe testing the border.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. “Testing me.”
Julian didn’t correct him.
They circled the ruins slowly, methodically. Snow had drifted into the doorways, muffling their steps. The only sound was the whisper of Julian’s coat and the faint rasp of their breathing.
Dominic’s mind kept returning, unbidden, to Layla’s name. She found this place, or something close enough to lead Julian here. He tried to tell himself it was a coincidence, but it felt wrong. It was too precise, too personal.
There was no such thing as a coincidence.
He’d spent years training himself not to think of her. And now, every breath of cold air seemed to carry her scent. Faint, bookish, something like lavender and dust. It made him angry.
“You’re distracted,” Julian said quietly.
Dominic glanced at him, the words sharp. “No.”
Julian wisely did not test him further.
They reached the edge of the settlement, where the ground sloped down toward the frozen creek. The remains of a bridge jutted from the snow, its timbers split. Beyond it, the forest rose again, branches clawing towards them.
Julian crouched to examine the ground. “Tracks heading east,” he murmured. “At least six individuals. Some heavier than others.”
Dominic knelt beside him. The footprints were broad, too long for wolves, clawed at the tips. “Hybrids.”
Julian nodded. “And fresh.”
Dominic grinned, “We’re close.”
“Close enough to get killed,” Julian said, standing. “They’re not amateurs. The pattern’s deliberate. They know how to cover a trail.”
Dominic scanned the trees, the cold wind cutting across his face. “They don’t know who’s following it.”
He started forward.
Julian’s voice stopped him. “Wait.” He lifted his head, nostrils flaring. “Dominic,” he murmured.
Dominic stilled. “What?”
“Something’s here.”
Dominic’s eyes flicked across the clearing. “Where?”
Julian looked around, his movements sharp and precise. He gestured toward the half-collapsed chapel at the edge of the square. “Inside. Now.”
They moved quickly, slipping through the narrow doorway. The interior was dark, the air heavy with old soot. Dominic took up position beside the shattered window while Julian crouched near the door, sword in hand.
Outside, something in the forest stirred. Then came the sound, distant, rhythmic. Footsteps.
Dominic’s pulse slowed to a predator’s tempo. He could hear voices now, low and guttural.
Julian’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes went sharp. “Company,” he mouthed.
Dominic nodded once, every muscle in his body coiled tight.
The footsteps drew closer, crunching through the snow, accompanied by the occasional rasp of laughter that didn’t sound human.
