The Hunter's Instinct Ethan's wolf had been restless for three days, pacing beneath his skin with an agitation that had nothing to do with the full moon still two weeks away. Every warrior instinct he possessed screamed that danger was circling his family like vultures waiting for carrion, but he couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. Until this morning, when the scent trail he'd been tracking led him to a truth that made his blood run cold. The abandoned ranger station sat in a clearing two miles beyond pack territory, its windows boarded up and roof partially collapsed from years of neglect. It should have been empty, forgotten, of no interest to anyone. But Ethan's sensitive nose had picked up something that made every protective instinct flare to life: Cassie's scent, mixed with at least three others he didn't recognize. Rogue scents. Dangerous ones. He crouched behind a fallen log, studying the building through the early morning mist. The tracks around the station told a
The Art of Stalking Prey The old oak tree on the border of pack territory had become Cassie's observation post, its thick trunk and dense canopy providing perfect cover while offering a clear view of the pack house grounds. For three days now, she'd been watching, learning, cataloging every detail of Lisa's new routine since the attack. The twisted satisfaction she felt at seeing Lisa's obvious nervousness, the way she constantly looked over her shoulder, only fueled Cassie's determination to finish what she'd started. Below her perch, the pack went about their daily activities with what appeared to be normalcy, but Cassie's trained eye could see the subtle changes her attack had wrought. Patrols were more frequent and followed less predictable patterns. Pack members traveled in pairs more often than before. And Lisa... Lisa barely left the pack house at all anymore. "Perfect," Cassie whispered to herself, adjusting her position on the broad branch. Fear was exactly what she'd want
Allies in Darkness Three days of running through the wilderness had stripped away whatever civilized veneer Cassie had maintained during her years with Matthew's pack. Her clothes were torn from brambles and rough terrain, her hair tangled with leaves and debris, and her once-pristine nails were broken and filthy from scrambling over rocks and through underbrush. But the physical deterioration was nothing compared to the festering rage that had consumed her thoughts during every mile of her desperate flight. She crouched now beside a stream in neutral territory, washing blood from a scrape on her arm while her mind churned with bitter resentment. The pack meeting had been the final humiliation—being questioned like a criminal, having her every word scrutinized, feeling the weight of their suspicion and judgment. And all because of Lisa. Perfect, fragile, reformed Lisa who could do no wrong in everyone's eyes. The irony wasn't lost on her that she was now exactly what they'd accused
The Empty Chair The great hall had never felt more oppressive. Lisa sat in a high-backed chair near the front, her injured ankle propped on a cushioned stool, Luna Rose sleeping fitfully in her arms. The baby seemed to sense the tension that filled the room like a living thing, her little face scrunched with unease even in sleep. Every pack member had been summoned for this emergency meeting, their faces reflecting varying degrees of concern, confusion, and anger as they settled into the rows of chairs that Matthew had ordered arranged in a semicircle. Lisa's ankle throbbed with each heartbeat, the swelling having worsened overnight despite the ice and elevation. Dr. Martinez had been grimly satisfied with her examination that morning, confirming torn ligaments that would require at least six weeks of careful healing. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the psychological impact of knowing that someone in this very room had deliberately tried to harm her and Luna Rose. "B
When Shadows Strike The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of oak trees as Lisa made her way along the familiar path that wound through the pack territory. Luna Rose slept peacefully in the baby carrier strapped to Lisa's chest, lulled by the gentle motion of walking and the warm spring air. For the first time in weeks, Lisa felt truly at peace—strong enough for a solo walk, confident enough to venture beyond the immediate pack house grounds, ready to reclaim the independence that had been so important to her before everything changed. The path she'd chosen was one of her favorites, a well-maintained trail that circled through the old growth forest before looping back toward the residential area. She'd walked it countless times during her pregnancy, finding solace in the rhythm of her footsteps and the ancient wisdom of the trees. Today felt like a celebration of how far she'd come—physically strong enough for the mile-long circuit, emotionally stable enough to be alone
Finding Courage at the Table The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the pack house dining hall, mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation that had always meant home to Lisa. But tonight, standing in the doorway with Luna Rose sleeping peacefully in her carrier, she felt like an outsider looking in on a life that no longer quite fit. It had been two weeks since her conversation with Matthew in the library, two weeks of slowly rebuilding her confidence and trying to silence the doubts that Jennifer and Cassie's words had planted. This pack dinner—a monthly tradition where everyone gathered for a communal meal—was meant to be her official return to normal pack life. Sarah had suggested it gently, Ethan had encouraged her warmly, and Matthew had given her one of his knowing looks that said he believed she was ready. Lisa wasn't so sure. The dining hall buzzed with activity as pack members filled the long wooden tables that had been arranged in a horseshoe shape.