She Found Me First

I stood still. That was my choice in those quick three seconds, just after she stepped out of the car and her gaze met mine across the street. I refused to move, refused to step back, refused to let her see any reaction. I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction she probably wanted.

She looked just the same as she did three years ago. That annoyed me more than I care to admit. She actually seemed better—hair still dark and flawless, posture relaxed, that unapologetic kind of beauty you can’t ignore.

She crossed the street like she had nowhere else to be. Marcus, beside me, had gone rigid. I didn’t have to look to know. His entire body reacted the instant he saw her. Whatever he learned two weeks ago, whatever made him drive eight hours to my door, it was linked to her.

She stopped only a few feet from me and smiled. “Aria Sutton,” she said. “I’ve been hoping we’d meet properly.”

“We have met,” I replied.

She kept smiling. “Briefly. And under unfortunate circumstances.” She glanced at the foundation building behind me. “What you’ve built here is impressive. The wolf community owes you.”

I just looked at her.

She kept going. “I came because I think we want the same thing. You loved Damien once. I know you don’t want to see him die. Whatever happened between us, he doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him.”

Everything she said sounded rehearsed, like she’d run the lines in her head a dozen times, trying to seem reasonable, concerned, and on my side.

I let her finish and then asked, “How long have you been putting Darkroot compound in his food?”

Her smile froze but her eyes turned cold, careful—just for a second. She caught herself, but I saw it. We both knew I saw it.

She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were handling it recently,” I replied. “I can smell it. Faint, but it’s there—metallic under your perfume, with something sweet behind it.” I watched her. “Most wolves wouldn’t catch it. I’ve worked with poisoned wolves for two years. I know exactly what it smells like.”

She studied me. Then, “You’re very perceptive.”

No denial. I noticed that.

“Go back to Darkwood,” I told her. “Tell Damien I’m aware. Tell him I’ll come when I’m ready.”

Her expression tightened around the edges. Still careful, but not quite as smooth now. “You’re going to come.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

I moved a little closer—not aggressive, just enough to kill the comfortable distance.

“Let me tell you what I know,” I said quietly. “Darkroot disrupts wolf bonds. Small doses mimic natural bond severance so well that most pack medics don’t spot it. It’s illegal everywhere around here. And you’ve been using it.” I held her gaze. “Damien isn’t just dying the way everyone says—he’s dying because you’re killing him.”

She didn’t flinch. I respected that.

“That’s a serious accusation,” she said.

“It is,” I answered.

We stood there, just two feet apart, and I understood something I hadn’t before she crossed the street. She didn’t come here to reason. She didn’t come to appeal to whatever I once felt for Damien. She came to measure me—to see what I knew.

Now she knew.

She took a step back, smoothed her jacket like nothing was wrong, trying to pull herself together.

“Drive safely,” I said.

She walked back to her car, and I didn’t take my eyes off her until she drove away and disappeared around the corner.

Next to me, Marcus let out a breath he’d probably been holding the whole time.

“She followed me,” he finally said. “I should have noticed.”

“She’s good at not being noticed,” I replied. “That’s her specialty.”

I turned toward the building, and Marcus followed—no need to tell him. In my office, I shut the door and motioned to the chair across from my desk. He sat. I remained standing at the window, staring at the empty street where her car had been, letting myself think for a minute.

Darkroot compound.

Fourteen months ago, a wolf named Calla came to us barely able to stand. Her pack said she had late-stage bond deterioration after a rejection. She’d been falling apart for half a year. Her wolf almost gone.

My medical contact saw her bloodwork and said something felt off. The pattern was wrong—too consistent, too controlled. Natural bond deterioration is messy, chaotic. This was precision.

Took us three weeks to identify the compound. Two more months to find her pack’s healer, who’d been giving it to her under orders from the Alpha, wanting Calla gone without obvious evidence.

She recovered, slowly, but recovered.

I learned the smell of Darkroot then. Spent hours with samples until I knew I’d never miss it again.

I hadn’t missed it tonight.

I finally left the window and looked at Marcus. “Tell me what you found.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He looked exhausted—as if he was finally laying down a heavy burden.

“Three weeks ago one of the pack omegas came to me,” he said. “Works in the kitchen. She saw Selene add something to Damien’s food three separate times. She described the smell. I didn’t know what it was, but took a sample and got it tested outside the pack.”

“And?” I pressed.

“The tester said it was an organic compound she’d never seen before, definitely not natural, definitely disrupting something biological.” He looked up at me. “I didn’t know it was Darkroot until you named it.”

“Does Damien know?”

He shook his head. “No. He trusts her, Aria. Whatever she told him three years ago, he believed it. Never questioned it.”

I thought about that. For three years, I avoided wondering what reason Damien might’ve had. Why bother? The only answers were bitterness or excuses—and I didn’t have the space for either. But with Marcus here and Selene’s car still vivid in my mind, I finally let myself consider it.

“What did she tell him?” I asked.

Marcus hesitated—a silence that told me he’d been deciding whether to share this since he showed up.

“She told him you were in danger. Said there was a faction targeting powerful Lunas to destabilize strong packs. That the only way to protect you was to break the bond—publicly, permanently. She had documentation, names, fake intelligence reports. He rejected you because he thought he was saving your life.”

The office was dead quiet.

I stood and let that hit me, landing hard somewhere in my chest.

He thought he was saving me. And in the process, he ruined everything.

I wasn’t sure what to do with that, so I did what I always do with things I can’t handle. I set it aside and focused on the next problem.

“The faction she described—does it exist?”

He studied the floor. “Spent two weeks trying to find any record of it. Checked with everyone I know on the wolf council. Nothing. No reports, no names, nothing.”

I nodded.

She’d made it all up. Three years