And she’s spending it anyway. For my pack. For wolves who don’t trust her, who watch her with suspicion and barely concealed hostility.
Something twists in my chest. Not quite pain. Closer to recognition.
The violet light pulses brighter, then dims. Nova’s shoulders drop slightly, exhaustion bleeding through her careful control. She’s pushing too hard. Taking on too much. And she doesn’t have anyone watching her back.
Until now.
The thought catches me off guard. I shouldn’t care. She’s a stranger, an outsider, a complication I don’t need. But watching her pour herself into protecting my territory, my pack—
It does something to me I’m not ready to name.
This is what I wanted Ash Hollow to become. Wolves willing to sacrifice for each other without being asked. The kind of unity that doesn’t need orders because everyone feels the same threat, moves toward the same goal.
We used to be connected, all on one page. But now we’re not.
Because this isn’t just stress or distrust. It’s sabotage.
Faelan—Phil—his corruption is subtle. Not like poison in water, more like changing the air pressure. Slow enough no one notices until everyone’s bleeding from the ears.
The pack’s falling apart from the inside out. Not just arguments—but primal instinct disruption. Trust collapsing. Bonds fraying.
And here’s Nova, alone in the dark, trying to build wards against a threat my own wolves can’t see.
Her head snaps up. She found me. Or sensed me. Her eyes narrow, magic still flowing around her fingers.
“What?” Her voice is sharp, defensive.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
She scoffs. “And who should I have brought? Your wolves don’t trust me enough to watch my back.”
“I’m here now.”
“Are you?” She rises, dusting soil from her palms. The violet light fades. “Or are you here to drag me back to the compound where you can keep an eye on me?”
I step closer. “Then why risk yourself out here? No backup. No safety net.”
“Because someone has to.” Her eyes flash. Not violet—tawny gold wolf. “You want to pretend you can hold this together through sheer force. You can’t.”
“That’s not—“
“It is.” She doesn’t back down. Doesn’t give an inch. “Your pack is splintering because they can feel what you won’t admit. This isn’t about territory or discipline anymore.” She pushes into my space, close enough that I catch the faint scent of wild honey beneath magic burn. “This is about survival. Raw and ugly.”
I don’t back away. “You think I don’t know that? You think I can’t feel it?”
“I think you’re so busy being the rock they lean on that you’ve forgotten rocks can crack.” Her voice drops, somethingraw bleeding through. “I’ve watched packs shatter, Dane. Good packs. Strong packs. They all had Alphas who thought they could hold the weight alone.”
“And what’s the alternative? Fall apart? Show weakness?”
“Show them you’re fighting the same battle they are.” She’s close enough now that her breath ghosts across my jaw. “Show them their Alpha is a wolf, not a statue. You’re trying to be a rock when you need to be a river.”
Something in me snaps.
Not anger—hunger. For her clarity. Her certainty. For the way she sees through every wall I’ve built and names the cracks I’ve been pretending don’t exist.
But it’s more than that. It’s the curve of her throat where her pulse beats wild. The way her chest rises with each breath, straining against the thin fabric of her shirt. The defiance in her stance that makes me want to see what it takes to make her yield.
My wolf surges forward, and for once I let him.
