Chapter 4
Nova
Dawn breaks cold and gray over Ash Hollow.
I’ve been awake for an hour, familiarizing myself with the small cabin Dane assigned me last night. Sparse but functional—a cot, a wood stove, a single window facing the treeline. More privacy than I expected. More trust than I’ve earned.
The knock comes precisely at first light. Dane’s silhouette fills the doorway when I open it, already dressed for a hunt.
“Eastern perimeter’s too far to cover on foot before the sun’s fully up,” he says without preamble. “We shift. Cover more ground faster.”
I hesitate for half a second; shifting together is intimate, vulnerable, a level of trust I haven’t offered anyone in years. Butthe eastern boundary spans miles, and we need to find Phil’s surveillance operation before he realizes we’re onto him.
My clothes hit the ground as the change takes me, bones reshaping, muscles flowing like liquid fire. The transformation burns through me faster than usual, fueled by urgency and something else I don’t want to name. My fae blood sings alongside the wolf transformation, magic crackling through my reshaping bones. The dual nature of my heritage makes the change both smoother and more intense. Silver light threads through my muscles as they flow and reform, fae magic enhancing wolf strength.
My wolf emerges sleek and deadly—mist-gray coat with violet undertones that seem to ripple in shadow. Built for speed and silence, not brute force. I’ve always been more ghost than warrior.
Dane’s wolf is pure dominance made flesh. Dark gray-black coat, massive shoulders, amber eyes ringed with white when the Alpha power flares. He’s built for war—a weapon designed to tear through anything that threatens his pack.
He’s magnificent and terrifying in equal measure. Even in wolf form, authority radiates from every line of his body. His head is broader than mine, muzzle longer, built for bone-crushing bites. When he moves, muscles ripple beneath that dark coat like shadows given substance. This is what an Alpha looks like when there’s no human mask to soften the predator underneath.
My wolf recognizes his dominance and doesn’t challenge it. Instead, she’s drawn to it, circling closer than she should, testing boundaries she has no business testing.
For a moment, we simply look at each other. Wolf to wolf. Predator to predator. No human masks, no professional distance.
His wolf sees mine. Really sees her.
There’s something raw in his amber gaze, a hunger that has nothing to do with the hunt ahead. His massive head tilts slightly, scenting me, cataloging the dual nature that makes me both familiar and foreign. Wolf, but not just wolf. Fae, but not completely fae. Something in between that calls to him on levels I don’t understand.
When his eyes meet mine again, the Alpha power in them makes my wolf want to bare her throat. Or press closer.
And mine doesn’t retreat.
Then we’re running, racing through the forest with enhanced speed that makes the trees blur around us. Dane leads, his massive form moving with surprising grace through the undergrowth. I follow, slipping through spaces like smoke, matching his pace effortlessly.
We run like we were made for this. Like we were made to hunt together.
The eastern perimeter feels wrong even in wolf form.
We shift back to human form near the first motion sensor cluster, the change leaving us both slightly breathless. I call my clothes back with a whisper of fae magic, fabric appearing instantly around me.
Dane’s clothes materialize around him with the same efficiency—but the magic signature is wrong. Not wolf. Not fae. Something bright and ancient that makes my senses flare with recognition.
“Angelic bloodline,” I breathe before I can stop myself.
His jaw tightens. “Shadow Peak taught me to access it. Most mixed-heritage wolves learn to use what they’ve got.”
I file that information away. Angel blood would explain some of his intensity, his absolute conviction. Portal Guardian lineage, maybe—those old bloodlines carried traces of celestial power.
“Motion sensors triggered here first,” he says quietly, pointing to a cluster of evergreens near the boundary marker. “Three AM.Then again at four-thirty. Pattern suggests someone circling, not passing through.”
I nod, following the invisible trail my senses are picking up. Fae scent, but wrong—tainted with something dark and artificial. The same expensive cologne and chemical tang of hair product I detected at the compound, but underneath it, the sour note of corrupted magic. But older. Much older.
“He’s been using this area for weeks,” I murmur, crouching beside a fallen log that looks natural but feels staged. “This isn’t just surveillance. This is a base of operations.”
“Base for what?”
I run my fingers along the bark, feeling for disturbances. There—scratches too precise to be natural, too fresh to be old. “For initial reconnaissance. Learning your routines and schedules.”
