“Alden,” he snaps, sharper now. “Do not?—”
I shift before he finishes the sentence. Bone and muscle surge, the world snapping into sharper lines as my wolf takes over. The smells of dust and fear and sweat become vivid, layered, and I launch out of the clearing in a blur of black fur and fury. Behind me, I hear Ciaran shouting orders, then shouting my name, then losing it to distance.
The estate falls away fast.
Trees swallow the torchlight, replacing it with shadow and cold air. The ground rises and dips under my paws, roots and stone and slick leaves, but I do not slow. The bond pulls like a tether, guiding me the way scent would, only stronger.
Cassidy’s fear spikes again.
I run harder.
The smoke hits before the cabin comes into view.
It pours through the trees in thick waves, stinging my nose, coating the back of my throat. It blunts everything I rely on, flattening scents into a harsh wall of burned wood and resin. My heart thunders as I break through a stand of firs and see the cabin.
Flames lick up one corner of the porch. A window is shattered outward, black soot streaking the frame. The roofline smolders, smoke roiling up in heavy coils that drift into the canopy. The sight jerks my rage sharp, but it also brings a cold frustration, because the smoke smothers the air.
I cannot smell her. I cannot smell the rogue either.
I circle the cabin once, fast and low, nose skimming the ground where ash and damp dirt mix into sludge. There is the faint bite of bear spray, burned sharp into the air like a chemical warning. There are claw marks carved into porch boards, deep enough to splinter wood, but the smoke drowns everything else.
Cassidy is not here.
My ears catch it then. Crashing brush. Rapid footfalls.
A human heartbeat running hard enough to rattle branches. Another set of heavier impacts behind it, faster than a human should be able to move. The sounds cut through smoke and rage, clean and directional, pulling me away from the burning cabin.
I launch toward the noise.
My paws dig into loose soil as I climb, muscles burning with the incline. Pine needles scatter under my weight, and sap stings the cuts on my pads, but I do not slow. The bond pulls forward, her fear and adrenaline surging like a beacon through my chest.
I hear her stumble, but she catches herself. Then her breath breaks into a sharp gasp that turns my blood to fire.
The brush ahead explodes.
I break into a small clearing just as the rogue wolf bursts out of the smoke-thinned trees. Its coat is streaked with soot, eyes bright, movement too controlled to be mindless. Cassidy appears a heartbeat later, sprinting hard, hair loose and wild, face pale.
She tries to pivot, but her boot skids on damp leaves.
The rogue slams into her from the side.
She hits the ground with a rough thud, breath leaving her in a sharp burst. The wolf’s front paws pin her shoulders, claws digging into fabric as it lowers its head toward her throat.
My mate. Pinned. Touched.
Rage detonates through me.
I do not think. I do not measure. I surge forward with a snarl that rips out of my chest like a weapon. The rogue’s head jerks up at the sound, ears flicking back, but it does not have time to move.
I collide with it in a brutal crash.
My jaws clamp onto its neck, teeth locking into fur and skin with violent certainty. The taste of soot and blood floods my mouth. The rogue twists hard, trying to break my grip, claws scraping my shoulder as it bucks and snarls.
We roll across the clearing.
Dirt and leaves fly.
I drive my weight into it, forcing it away from Cassidy, forcing it to feel my strength and my claim. The rogue snaps at my face, teeth flashing, and I answer with a growl that shakes my ribs, tightening my jaws until the muscles in my neck burn.
