I walk the narrow trail trying not to think about her. One foot in front of the other, just checking the perimeter like I do every day. The trees stand too straight, too watchful in the gray light. No birds call. No leaves rustle.
This place remembers.
I knew I’d come back here eventually. Had to. Some territory you need to mark even if just by walking it.
I spot the place without searching. Nothing dramatic—just a patch of disturbed pine needles, soil gouged where she hit. A broken branch snapped on impact. Most wouldn’t notice. Most wouldn’t see the faint shimmer that still clings to the air—magic residue that refuses to fade.
I crouch, palm hovering over the dirt. Not touching. Not yet. My wolf rises to the surface, remembering how cold she was, skin like ice beneath my hands. How light she felt when I liftedher. How much of her magic had been stripped clean, leaving nothing but bone and breath and the raw smell of pain.
I told myself I’d forget that smell.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Ben’s boots crunch pine needles behind me. I don’t turn, don’t acknowledge him. He doesn’t push, just stands a few feet back. Waiting. Another wolf who understands territory and scars.
“Perimeter check,” I say, words flat.
“Sure.” Ben doesn’t call the lie. His eyes scan the ground, taking in the details. He’s good at seeing what others miss. Always has been.
Silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable. Just there.
“Nova took Lyanna to the eastern boundary,” he says finally. “Something about tracing energy patterns.”
I nod once. Stand up, brush dirt from my hands.
“You know,” Ben says quietly, “Alphas don’t lose control like you did—not unless someone matters more than they’re admitting.”
His words hang in the air.
I meet his eyes.
“Callum’s been asking questions about Nova,” Ben adds. “Wants to know why she keeps coming back to this spot. Says her scent trail circles here three times this week.”
I growl, my fingers clenching into fists. “He’s tracking her now?”
“You know Callum. Doesn’t trust anything fae-touched.” Ben shrugs. “Said her interest in this place seems convenient. Wanted to know if we should post someone here full-time.”
“He needs to back off,” I say, voice dropping low. “Nova’s not his concern.”
Ben studies my face. Doesn’t comment on the edge in my tone.
“Just thought you should know,” he says. “Callum gets fixated when he thinks there’s a threat.”
I take one last look at the disturbed ground. Feel the weight of memory—her body in my arms, breath shallow against my neck. The way her fingers curled into my shirt even in her unconscious state.
Something shifts in the air. I glance back at the trees, scanning the shadows. Nothing moves. Nothing watches. Just silence. Yet something feels off—a pressure that wasn’t there before.
“Let’s go,” I say, turning away from the spot where the Fade keeps trying to claim her.
Ben and I follow the worn path back toward camp, our boots crunching dead pine needles. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable; just the quiet of two wolves who’ve said all they need to.
“Perimeter’s clear,” he says finally, voice rough. “But that shimmer—“
“I know.”
He nods, falling silent again. We reach the edge of the treeline where the forest gives way to the outer clearing. The compound stretches before us: cabins, training rings, the mess tent with its tin roof catching the weak sunlight.
Harper stands near the lodge with Mateo, her copper-brown hair twisted into a loose braid that catches the light. She’s reviewing supply lists with him, pointing to different items on the clipboard. Already settling into her new role as Pack Coordinator; the supply runs she used to make from Shadow Peak now managed from here.
