I’m the Alpha. I’m in control.
But the tightness in my chest says otherwise.
The comms shack stands like a shadow at the edge of the perimeter, a box of darkness wrapped in deeper dark. I should walk away. Check the northern boundary.
Instead, I stand rooted. Watching nothing.
My fingers flex. The woods fill with sound—wind through pine, small creatures scuttling in dead leaves, some owl’s hunting cry. But all I hear is Nova’s voice in the lodge. The way she sliced through the bullshit when Phil showed up. The cut of her scent—pine, static, challenge—when she stood too close.
“Focus,” I mutter.
Then I hear her voice: faint, steady. Coming from the shack.
I freeze.
I locked that building myself. Checked every panel. No one but her should be inside.
I step closer. Her voice grows clearer, low but precise.
”—third energy signature matches the second,“ she says, quiet and clipped, like she’s logging intel. “Pressure zone pulsing off-center. No origin point yet.”
I stop just short of the door.
She’s not on our comms. Not speaking to anyone. Just talking—aloud. Not frantic. Focused. Like she’s forcing the pieces to fit by giving them sound.
I should storm in. Demand answers. Make her explain herself.
But something about her voice stops me.
“I can’t confirm intent,” she mutters. “But this is targeted. Someone knew what they were doing when they picked this ground.”
I exhale. My wolf presses forward, still suspicious. But it’s not betrayal I smell—it’s exhaustion. Focus. Her own damn pulse is ticking faster, like she’s trying to outrun it.
She’s chasing a pattern we can’t see. And doing it alone.
I reach for the door.
Then stop.
If I go in now—if I corner her when she’s raw, stripped down, like this—it won’t be about the intel. It won’t be about strategy.
It’ll be about her.
The pull between us. The wrongness of it. The inevitability.
So I back away. One step. Then another.
My wolf growls in protest. He wants to push closer. Wants to press his nose to the door and breathe her in. Wants to circle.
And that’s when I know what this is.
I’m not patrolling.
I’m circling her.
And circling is always the move before the pounce.
Chapter 8
