FERAL
Ifelt when we reached Bastian’s boundary line.
One stride I was running through my territory, familiar ground that smelled like pack filling my senses. The next, the air tasted different. Like something that had been claimed before I was born and would be claimed long after I was gone.
My wolf went silent in my head, coiling the way he did before a fight.
This was the thing about crossing into another alpha’s territory. It wasn’t just geographic. The land itself recognized pack magic, boundaries carved into the soil through generations of wolves defending the same ground. My father had taught me to feel it when I was young, that subtle shift in the air that meant you were no longer protected.
You were exposed.
My pride in carrying Victoria warred with the worry cutting through my guts. She didn’t know how bad this could get. She thought we were gathering evidence, making observations, and building a case.
She was right, but she was also wrong about what Bastian might do if he felt cornered.
Alphas who’d held power as long as Bastian had didn’t get there by backing down when challenged. They got there by making examples and by turning threats into warnings that lasted generations.
Pulling her off and sending her back would solve nothing, however. If I’d found a way to leave her behind, she would’ve begun her own expedition by midday, and then I’d be dealing with this mess and worrying about where she was and what trouble she might be getting into.
At least this way I could keep an eye on her.
I kept moving, my pace steady. Showing hesitation would be as bad as showing fear. Bastian’s wolves would be watching from positions I couldn’t see, noting every detail to report back. How I held myself. How my mate carried herself. Whether we looked like we belonged here or like we were trespassing.
Acorn sat in Victoria’s lap, not releasing a single chirp. His silence meant he was tracking everything around us as intently as me. The squirrel was smarter than I’d initially given him credit for.
Movement flickered in my peripheral vision. Bastian’s scouts eased from the tree line in wolf form, falling into flanking positions. A formal escort that was also a show of force, making it clear we were being watched, and we were on their ground now.
I didn’t acknowledge them. Just kept my head high, my stride even, and my breathing controlled. The protocol was simple. Noticing them would be conceding they had authority over my movements.
They didn’t.
I was king of this region. Bastian was a subordinate alpha who’d been pushing boundaries for years, testing to see how far he could go before I dropped him to the ground and sunk my fangs into his throat.
This visit was me pushing back. I just had to do it carefully enough that I didn’t turn this into a war.
Victoria leaned forward, her voice pitched too low for the scouts to catch. “Four on the left, three on the right. They appear well-trained.” She paused, studying them. “Your pack runs tighter formations, for what it’s worth.”
My wolf preened like he’d just won something.
I wanted to tell her not to analyze the threat assessment out loud while we were surrounded, but the truth was I liked that she was paying attention. Even in enemy territory, she was making solid observations.
My father would’ve approved of her. He would’ve liked the way she didn’t flinch. She treated enemy territory like a research site instead of a threat. This woman had climbed onto my back without hesitation when I’d shifted, trusting me to carry her into danger and back out again.
We approached the outer edge of Bastian’s compound through a cleared section of forest. The trees had been cut back deliberately, creating sightlines, a smart, defensive move. I would’ve done the same thing if I’d had more time and fewer border disputes when I took over.
Guard towers sat in the canopy, concealed but visible if you knew what to look for. I counted three before I stopped seeking them. There would be more.
Bastian’s compound had been built for war. Mine had been built for survival. The difference sat tight in my belly.
A greenhouse ahead caught my attention. Glass panels and spelled timber, set apart from the main buildings. It hadn’t been here the last time I’d visited, something I’d done with each pack not long after I took over from my father.
The placement felt more exposed than I liked. It was too far from the main tree to be convenient for daily use. Had it been added recently?
Movement inside caught my eye, and I trotted over to stop in front of the entrance.
Victoria slid off my back, her field kit already in her hands. “There’s a bear inside. I think it’s our bear, the one who ran toward me at the creek.” Her voice remained level, like she was identifying a plant specimen instead of a shifter three times her size who could crush her skull with one swipe.
I shifted, stepping between her and the greenhouse entrance.
