LOGINJuliette’s POV:Dawn crept over Blackridge in rather slow, deliberate breaths. The sky had yet to burn gold; the forest still wore the heavy blue-gray of early morning, and mist curled along the treetops like wandering fingers, searching for secrets long buried. Even the soil itself seemed to hold its weight, compressed with memory, as if every footprint the pack had ever left had left an echo behind.I stood at the center of the training grounds, the wooden railing pressing into my palms as my eyes scanned through the pack’s movements. Liora, Dorian, and Bryan flanked me, silent sentinels, their energy taut, primed. Giving me the silent support that kept me a little steady. The air itself seemed almost charged like it had electrical currents flowing through it as it brimmed with expectation. The rather invisible pulse of the Heir’s presence still lingered somewhere beyond the trees, like a storm that was yet to arrive.“Formation!” I called, my voice steady, carrying authori
Juliette’s POVThe forest did not return to silence after he left.It should have. I mean after tension broke, after a presence withdrew, the land should have exhaled, and then resettled itself into its familiar rhythm. Birds should have resumed their calls. The wind should have reclaimed its path through the leaves. But this time, the quiet, it lingered on like an ugly scar.The sigil beneath my boots pulsed once more, faint and almost deliberate, before sinking fully into the earth as if it had never been there at all. No scorch marks. No damage. Just absence.And yet I knew, actually, we all knew, that the land would remember.“He didn’t threaten us,” Bryan said at last, his voice low, almost a whisper, cautious, as though speaking too loudly might summon the Heir back from the trees. His eyes never leaving the shadows where the forest swallowed him whole. “That’s what bothers me.”Dorian’s jaw tightened. “Threats are usually very obvious. Loud. Open. This was…” He paused, as tho
Iuliette’s POV:It felt like the forest held her breath. Every single leaf, every branch, every shadow even, all seemed to lean closer, like they were watching, waiting. I could feel it in my bones, that strong pull of something older, sharper, deliberate even. It wasn’t just a presence, no, it felt like a calculation. Like someone who knew not just the land, but the rhythms along with every hidden crevice of the Blackridge territory. I’d been following the faintest trail all morning, the rather subtle digits etched into bark and stone seemed to beckon on me. It was almost starting to feel like each one was humming against my senses, a whisper of bloodline and legacy that I was very certain the Warrior and I both felt. Dorian and Bryan flanked me, one on each side, silent, eyes sweeping through the treeline with attentive vigilance that seemed practiced. The tension between us was taut, unspoken but thick enough to taste.“Do you feel that?” Bryan’s voice was barely above a whispe
Juliette’s POV:The sigil did not fade.Even after the wolf vanished into the forest, even after the air slowly loosened its grip around my lungs, the mark he carved into the stone remained sharp and alive. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat that did not belong to the land but had claimed it anyway.I crouched in front of it, fingers hovering inches above the etched lines.Do not touch it, the Warrior warned immediately. This mark is bound to blood and authority. Contact would invite recognition.“Recognition by who,” Bryan asked, voice low.I swallowed. “By him.”Dorian shifted beside me, his stance rigid. “You are sure this is the Heir’s symbol.”“I’m sure,” I said quietly. “I have seen fragments of it before. In old Blackridge records. In blood sealed archives Rowan never let anyone touch.”The name hung between us like a blade.Rowan.The forest creaked softly around us, branches swaying even though there was no wind. I could feel the pack’s unease ripple outward, every wolf with
Juliette’s POV:The forest did not breathe.It waited.Every instinct in me screamed that we were no longer alone, that the moment had crossed from observation into confrontation.The air felt tighter, charged, as though the land itself had drawn a line and was watching to see who would step across it first.I did not move.Neither did the shadow watching me.I could feel him now with unsettling clarity.Not just his presence but his restraint.His control. He was close enough that I could almost map his outline in my mind, yet disciplined enough to remain unseen. That alone told me everything I needed to know.This was no rogue.This was no reckless scout.This was a wolf trained to wait.“Juliette,” Dorian murmured behind me, barely moving his lips. “Say the word.”The Warrior’s presence pressed heavier against my awareness, not alarmed but sharpened, like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. Do not strike first, he advised. This one was taught restraint. Let him reveal himself.I
Juliette’s POV:The scent lingered long after the Warrior’s howl faded.It clung to the wind, sharp and controlled, threaded with something that made my blood hum in recognition.Not Rowan. Not the scout.Something else.The hidden brother’s presence felt deliberate, measured, like a hand placed just close enough to touch without making contact.“He crossed the boundary,” Bryan murmured beside me, crouching low as he examined the disturbed earth. “No rush. No struggle. Whoever this is, he wanted to be noticed.”“Or counted,” Dorian added. His gaze swept the tree line, calculating. “Claims don’t always start with violence.”The Warrior’s presence pulsed in my chest, steady but alert. Yes, he confirmed. These are not attacks.These are markers. He is saying: I am here. I remember. This land still knows my blood.We moved along the outer perimeter of Blackridge territory at dawn, the forest hushed beneath the pale light. That was when we saw the first sigil.It was carved into the trunk







