“You have two minutes to convince me this is worth my time,” I say without turning back.
Rafe lets the silence hold. The wolves we pass stop their tasks, bodies tensing as they smell the air. Wyatt’s fingers flex at his side. Mateo shifts into Ben’s shadow. Even Marcus, who’s been resistant lately, straightens his spine when they walk by.
“Keep moving,” I order the pack. No one argues.
Rafe walks three paces behind me. Not deferential—tactical. His companion—Ansel, he finally named him—maintains an exact distance. Too exact. They move through my territory like they’ve studied the layout and memorized the sight lines.
My wolf bristles under my skin. These aren’t just strangers. They’re something else.
What a fucked up morning.
Frost crunches under our boots as we round the Lodge toward Nova’s cabin. The morning air is sharp enough to crystallize our breath. I scan the perimeter, making mental notes of who’s where, who’s watching, who reacts.
Then Kari appears from between the supply shed and the armory.
She stops mid-stride. Not a stumble—a full shutdown. Her body goes rigid, shoulders locked.
Her scent changes instantly. The usual notes of pine and amber vanish under something acrid—like burnt metal. Her pulse spikes; I can almost hear it from here.
I move before I can think, stepping into the space between them. Not aggressive, just ... present. A barrier.
“Kari,” I acknowledge, keeping my tone neutral.
She doesn’t respond. Her eyes never leave Rafe’s face, pupils constricted to pinpoints. Her jaw sets hard enough that I hear her teeth grind.
Rafe goes still. Not tense—worse. Like he’s recalibrating. He studies her, gaze trailing over her face, her stance, her clenched fists. Not like he knows her personally. More like he recognizes a species he hasn’t encountered in decades.
“On your way,” I tell her, my voice leaving no room for argument.
Kari blinks once. Twice. Her focus snaps back like a rubber band. Without a word, she turns on her heel and walks away—too fast, her movements too jerky. Not fleeing. Retreating with purpose.
Beside Rafe, Ansel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t even looked at Kari. But something’s changed in his posture—a subtle shift of weight to the balls of his feet. Ready. Alert.
I file away the interaction. Questions for later. Right now, I need to get them contained.
“This way,” I say, gesturing toward Nova’s shack.
The path feels too long. The air between us is thick with unasked questions. Every wolf in sight has stopped what they’re doing, tracking our movement. Watching. Waiting. I can almost hear their thoughts:Who are these men, and why is our Alpha leading them deeper in?
I reach Nova’s door first, rapping my knuckles against the metal. No answer needed—I push it open, standing aside.
Rafe steps through the entrance without hesitation. Ansel stops outside and takes a guard position.
Nova looks up sharply from her laptop, tension radiating from her in waves. Beside her, Lyanna turns slowly, her expression unsurprised.
“I see you’ve found our visitors,” she says, her voice unnervingly calm.
I walk in last, pulling the door closed behind us with a decisive click.
Chapter 12
Dane
The room contracts around us. Four bodies packed into Nova’s shack turn the space into a pressure cooker. Maps and printed images paper the walls—some marked with her precise handwriting, others glowing with Lyanna’s sigils. A connected mess of intel I didn’t authorize.
Nova’s changed since this morning. Gone are the short shorts and flimsy tank top that nearly broke my control. Now she’s in fitted black cargo pants and a long-sleeve turtleneck that hugs every curve. Somehow it’s worse. The fabric clings to her like a second skin, outlining the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. Professional. Deadly. And making me think about peeling it off her.
Nova doesn’t acknowledge my presence. Her attention locks on Rafe like he’s a puzzle piece she was missing. “You traced the energy signature.”
