I stand alone by the cabin door. Listen. Her breathing is steady behind the wood. Even. Deep. I don’t go in.
Lyanna’s inside. I trust her to stabilize the magic. But if anything else comes for Nova—
It goes through me first.
Standing outside, I lean back against the rough-hewn logs of the cabin. The night has deepened, draped itself across the compound like a shroud. Silent enough to hear each breath that passes through the walls. Hers. Lyanna’s. Rhythmic. Uneven.
My job is simple: stand guard. The pack knows not to approach. Something in my scent must be off—raw—becauseeven the wolves who questioned me earlier give the cabin a wide berth now.
Good. I don’t have words for them anyway.
The forest stretches out beyond the clearing, trees standing sentinel in the darkness. Nothing moves. Nothing threatens. For the moment, we’re secure.
I should be planning. Strategizing. The pack needs reassurance. The territory needs reinforcement. Patrols need reorganizing.
Instead, I’m counting her breaths.
There—a hitch in the pattern. A soft groan. The scent of pain spikes through the cracks in the doorframe. Lyanna murmurs something too low to catch. Glass clinks against wood. The scrape of her stool as she shifts position.
I don’t move. Don’t turn. Don’t push the door open to see for myself.
This is Lyanna’s domain now. Magic and healing. Things I can’t control.
My hand curls into a fist at my side. Not to feel strong. Just to feel something besides the phantom weight of Nova’s body. The moment I thought—
No.
“It doesn’t fucking get you,”I’d told her when I dragged her out of that distortion.
I don’t pace. Don’t exhale. Won’t let myself feel what I almost lost. Loss isn’t a luxury an Alpha can afford. Not when the pack is watching. Not when the territory is still bleeding magic at the edges. Not when every wolf in Ash Hollow is looking to me for answers I don’t have.
Another clink of glass inside. Lyanna’s voice, gentle but firm. The rustle of fabric.
The door creaks open six inches. Lyanna’s face appears, framed by honey-colored hair now loose around her shoulders. Her eyes are tired, but calm.
“She’s stabilizing,” she says simply. “The worst has passed.”
I nod once.
Lyanna studies me a moment longer than necessary. Something shifts in her expression.
“You should rest,” she adds. “I’ll stay with her.”
I don’t answer. We both know I’m not leaving.
Lyanna nods and disappears back inside, leaving the door cracked. The scent of blood and magic drifts out, mingled with crushed herbs and Nova’s underlying signature—bright, wild, defiant.
She’s breathing. So I can stand still.
Chapter 22
Dane
Morning light hits the treeline. I’ve been at my post outside the cabin for eight hours—not my longest watch, not even close. My body knows how to lock down, conserve energy. Back when I was Viktor’s hunter, I once held position for twenty-two hours without moving.
But this is different. This watch is personal.
Movement at the edge of the compound catches my attention—a vehicle pulling up outside the gate. Not a threat based on the engine signature. One of ours.
