Wasn’t random. And it wasn’t gone. It just decided not to come closer.
8
ARCHER
The forest is wrong tonight. Not in an obvious way. Not enough that someone human would notice. But I do. My tiger does immediately.
The moment I cross the boundary line, the air shifts—subtle at first, then sharpening into something layered and wrong. Too many scents overlapping where there should be only wind and trees.
Rogue activity. Recent. And not random.
I slow my pace, dropping into a controlled prowl as I follow the faint markers deeper along the border. Claw scratches on bark. Disturbed undergrowth. A scent trail that doesn’t belong to any of ours.
Cougars. Again.
But this time it’s not just one path. It’s multiple. Parallel movement. Coordinated spacing.
I exhale slowly, forcing my senses to narrow instead of scatter. This isn’t a lone scout. This is structured reconnaissance. They’re mapping Redwood Crossing. Piece by piece.
My jaw tightens as I move further along the line, staying just inside our territory while tracking their edges. The markingsaren’t aggressive yet. Not territorial. Evaluative. Testing pressure points. Looking for weakness. My tiger growls low in my chest. There are no weaknesses here. Not while I’m standing.
A flicker of movement catches my attention near the fence line. I crouch immediately, scanning the ground. Fresh impressions in the dirt. Deeper than before. They were here recently.
Very recently. My gaze follows the direction of the prints—and stops.
The bookstore district. Every line of scent converges in that direction. My focus sharpens instantly. Of course. Of course they would circle there. Not because of the building itself. Because of her.
Tessa.
The thought lands harder than I want it to. I straighten slowly, scanning the tree line again. The rogues aren’t here now—but they don’t need to be. They’ve already gathered what they came for. Observation. Patterns. Access points. And now they know where she is. A low curse leaves my mouth.
This is escalating faster than it should.
I shift back toward town immediately, abandoning the border sweep. There’s no point continuing the patrol when the real threat is no longer theoretical. It’s already inside the equation.
The meeting is already forming when I arrive.
Conrad is there first. Conrad Bellamy is leaning against the hood of his truck, arms folded, face set in that unreadable expression he gets when things are worse than he wants to admit.
“You found more,” he says.
“Yes.”
I don’t waste time. “Multiple cougar scent lines along the eastern border. Parallel movement. They’re mapping routes.”
His expression tightens. “That confirms Magnus’s concerns.”
“It confirms they’re organizing.”
A pause.
Then: “And the bookstore?”
I don’t answer immediately. That silence is enough.
Conrad exhales slowly. “Damn it.”
“They’ve been tracking the district,” I say. “Repeated proximity. They’re not guessing anymore.”
