Chapter 36: The Turkish Scouts

The stars were fading when we finally left the ice.

Stellan's arm was around my shoulders, supporting me as we walked, though I wasn't sure who was holding up whom. The battle was over, the wounded were being tended, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was silence.

Not peace. Not yet. But silence.

We found a spot near the remains of the longhouse, where the fire still burned and the furs were still clean. Stellan eased me down onto one of them, then sat beside me, his hand finding mine.

"You need to rest," he said.

"So do you."

"I will. Later." He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch gentle despite the wounds that covered his hands. "When I'm sure you're safe."

I wanted to argue, but I was so tired. The bond was still settling inside me, still finding its rhythm, still learning to beat in time with his heart. Every breath I took felt different now—lighter, freer, like something I'd been carrying for years had finally been set down.

I leaned against him, and for a long time, we just sat there, watching the stars fade and the sky lighten.

"I never thought I'd have this," I said quietly.

"Have what?"

"Peace. Quiet. Someone to sit with." I looked at him. "I spent so long running. I forgot what it felt like to just... be still."

He kissed my forehead. "Then we'll be still. As long as you want."

I smiled, and for a moment, everything was perfect.

And then I heard it.

A rustle in the trees. Too deliberate to be wind. Too organized to be animal.

Stellan was on his feet in an instant, his body shifting, his claws extending. I rose beside him, my wolf rising to meet his, ready to fight.

The figures emerged from the darkness.

Wolves. Dozens of them, their forms shifting as they stepped into the firelight, human shapes coalescing from fur and shadow. They moved with the easy confidence of wolves who knew they were stronger, faster, better than anyone they might face.

And they surrounded us.

I counted ten. Twelve. More. They circled the fire, their dark eyes fixed on us, their faces unreadable. They wore furs and leather, their skin marked with tattoos I didn't recognize, their hair dark and wild.

Stellan's growl was low and dangerous. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The wolves didn't answer. They just watched, their circle tightening, their presence pressing down on us like a weight.

And then, one of them stepped forward.

He was tall—taller than Stellan, which I hadn't thought possible. His hair was black as ink, falling past his shoulders in waves. His face was sharp, angular, with high cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. And his eyes... his eyes were the same green as mine.

The same green as my father's.

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my wolf stir.

"You're Lyra," he said. His voice was deep, accented, like stones rolling in a river. "The half-blood. The one who killed Ronan."

"I didn't kill him." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Stellan did."

The man's eyes flicked to Stellan, assessing, measuring. "The ice wolf. Yes. I've heard of you." He looked back at me. "You have your mother's face. But your father's fire."

My heart stopped. "You knew my father?"

"I am your father's brother." The man smiled—a small, sad curve of his lips. "My name is Cengiz. I am Alpha of the Bozkurt Pack. And you, Lyra, are my niece."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I staggered, and Stellan caught me, his arm steady around my waist.

"You're lying," I said. "My father was an only child. My mother told me—"

"Your mother didn't know." Cengiz's voice was gentle. "Your father left the Bozkurt Pack before you were born. He left everything behind—his family, his rank, his future. All for love." His green eyes held mine. "He never told you about us because he thought he was protecting you. Keeping you safe from the politics and the prophecies and the wars that would come for you anyway."

I shook my head, denial rising in my throat. "I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me." He reached into his furs and pulled out something small, something that gleamed in the firelight. "You just have to look at this."

He held it out. A pendant—silver, ancient, carved with symbols I recognized from my mother's stories. She'd worn one just like it, a gift from my father before I was born.

He'd said it was the only thing he'd kept from his old life.

I took the pendant from Cengiz's hand, my fingers trembling. It was warm. Warm as skin, warm as blood, warm as the bond that pulsed between me and Stellan.

"How did you get this?" I whispered.

"My brother gave it to me before he left. He said if anything ever happened to him, I was to find you. To protect you." Cengiz's voice cracked. "I've been looking for you for eighteen years, Lyra. Eighteen years of searching, of waiting, of hoping you'd survive long enough for me to find you."

I stared at him, the pendant clutched in my hand, my mind reeling.

"You're my uncle," I said slowly.

"I'm your uncle."

"You're the Alpha of the Bozkurt Pack."

"I am."

"You came all this way to find me."

"I came all this way to bring you home." He stepped closer, and I let him. "The Bozkurt Pack has been waiting for you, Lyra. Waiting for the daughter of their lost Alpha. Waiting for the half-blood who will unite the packs or destroy them." He smiled. "Waiting for someone to believe in."

I looked at Stellan. His face was guarded, his body still tense, but through the bond, I felt his warmth. His love. His unwavering faith in me.

*Whatever you choose,* he said, *I'm with you.*

I turned back to Cengiz. "What does 'home' mean to you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've spent my whole life looking for a place to belong. Packs that rejected me, wolves that called me mongrel, a man who tried to make me his property." I held his gaze. "So when you say 'home,' I need to know what that means. What you're offering. What you expect from me."

Cengiz was silent for a long moment. Then he laughed—a real laugh, warm and surprised.

"You're definitely his daughter," he said. "He asked the same question, the day he left." He looked at me, something softening in his green eyes. "Home, to us, is not a place. It's a promise. A promise that you will never be alone. That you will always have a pack to fight for you, to protect you, to die for you if necessary." He held out his hand. "That's what I'm offering, Lyra. Not a prophecy. Not a destiny. A family. If you want it."

I looked at his hand. Then I looked at Stellan.

*What do you think?* I asked through the bond.

*I think he's telling the truth. I think he's been looking for you for a long time.* Stellan's hand found mine. *And I think you deserve to know where you come from. If you want to.*

I looked back at Cengiz. At his green eyes, so like my own. At the pendant in my hand, warm with the memory of parents I'd lost. At the wolves behind him, waiting, watching, hoping.

"I've spent my whole life running," I said. "From packs, from wolves, from myself. I'm done running."

I took his hand.

Cengiz's smile was the first real smile I'd seen from him—wide and bright and full of something that looked like hope.

"Welcome home, niece," he said.