Chapter Eight

Lila's pov

The forest smells different in the early lightz sharper, colder, like the air itself is holding its breath.

Jace leads the patrol, moving fast but quiet through the underbrush. I’m behind him, then Cole, then two younger wolves whose names I still mix up. My ankle’s mostly healed, but I feel every uneven step. No one comments. No one slows down. That’s how it works here: you keep up or you get left.

We’re checking the eastern border today—the ridge that overlooks the river cut. Jace says it’s been quiet, but quiet never lasts long in rogue territory.

I like the rhythm of it. Scanning trees for broken branches, sniffing for foreign scents, marking our own posts with quick scratches. It’s simple. Physical. No room for overthinking.

Until there is.

Jace stops abruptly near a cluster of pines. He crouches, fingers brushing the bark.

“Fresh,” he mutters.

I move closer. There it is: a deliberate claw mark, three parallel lines, shallow but precise. Not deep enough to scar the tree forever, just enough to say *we were here*.

My stomach drops.

I know that pattern. Silver Moon uses it for scout markers. Not aggressive. Not territorial. Investigative.

They’re looking for something.

Or someone.

Me.

Jace traces the lines again. “Not ours. Not Ironfang either. Too neat. Too careful.”

Cole sniffs the air. “Old blood. Human scent mixed in. Maybe hired trackers.”

My mouth goes dry. I force my voice steady. “How old?”

“Two days. Maybe three.”

I nod like it means nothing. Inside, my pulse is hammering so hard I’m sure they can hear it.

Jace stands. “We mark over it. Report back. No engagement unless they cross.”

We finish the loop in silence. I keep my head down, eyes on the ground, but every rustle in the leaves makes me flinch. By the time we hit the clearing, my hands are shaking. I shove them into my pockets.

The alphas are waiting outside the lodge.

Kade’s arms are folded. Darius stands beside him, shoulders tense like he’s already itching for a fight. Ronan’s in the shadows of the porch, but I feel his gaze like weight.

Jace reports first, clean, concise. The markers. The scent. The timeline.

Kade listens without interrupting. When Jace finishes, Kade’s eyes slide to me.

“Lila?”

I swallow. “It’s Silver Moon.”

Darius’s head snaps toward me. “You sure?”

I nod. “The claw pattern. Three lines, shallow, angled left. It’s their scout code. They’ve used it since I was a kid.”

Kade’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts behind his eyes. “Why now?”

I hesitate.

Ronan steps forward. Quiet. “Because of you.”

It’s not a question.

The truth sits heavy in my throat. I’ve dodged it for weeks—bits and pieces, vague answers, but this isn’t vague anymore. They’re here. They’re close.

“They want me back,” I say. My voice comes out smaller than I want. “The mating was arranged. Marcus Greythorne. His family controls the eastern timber routes. My father promised me to seal the alliance. I ran the night before the ceremony.”

Silence.

Then Darius speaks, low and dangerous. “He was going to force you?”

“Not… force. Not like that.” I look at the ground. “But he made it clear I didn’t have a choice. When I said no, he hit me. My father told me it was my fault. That alphas correct behavior. I left that night.”

Darius’s fists clench so hard I hear the knuckles crack.

Kade’s jaw tightens, but his voice stays even. “And they’re still looking.”

“They don’t let things go,” I say. “I’m property. A debt. An alliance. They’ll keep coming until they drag me back or kill anyone who stands in the way.”

Ronan’s eyes narrow. Calculating. “How many scouts?”

“I don’t know. Could be two. Could be more. They don’t send big groups at first. They test. They watch.”

Kade exhales slowly. “We double patrols. No one goes out alone. If they cross the line, we respond. Hard. But we don’t chase. Not yet.”

Darius turns to him. “They’re hunting her, Kade.”

“I know.”

“We should hunt them.”

Kade meets his gaze. “Not until we know how many. Not until we know why they waited this long. We protect what’s ours. We don’t start wars we can’t finish.”

Darius’s shoulders are rigid. He looks at me—really looks—and something raw flashes across his face. Fury. Not at me. For me.

“They don’t get to touch you,” he says. Quiet. Final.

My throat closes. I can’t speak.

Ronan steps closer. His voice is calm, but there’s steel under it. “You’re not going back.”

It’s not a promise. It’s a fact.

Kade studies me for a long moment. “You should have told us sooner.”

“I didn’t want to bring this here.”

“You didn’t bring it,” he says. “They did.”

He turns to the others. “Double shifts start tonight. Jace, Cole—take the east ridge at dusk. Lila, you’re with me tomorrow. We’ll walk the river cut together.”

I nod.

The pack disperses slowly. Jace claps me on the shoulder as he passes—hard, reassuring. Cole just nods once.

Then it’s just the four of us.

Darius hasn’t moved. His eyes are still on me, dark and stormy.

“You’re shaking,” he says.

I look down. My hands are trembling.

He steps forward, slow, careful, and wraps his fingers around mine. His grip is warm. Steady. Not gentle, but not bruising. Just there.

“They won’t get near you,” he says again. Lower this time. Like it’s a vow carved into bone.

I believe him.

I shouldn’t. I’ve believed promises before.

But when he squeezes my hand once, brief, fierce, something inside me cracks open.

Not wide. Not all the way.

Just enough to let a little light in.

Kade watches us. Ronan too. No jealousy. No tension. Just quiet understanding.

I pull my hand back gently. “I’m okay.”

Darius lets go. But he doesn’t step away.

Kade speaks. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we walk the border. Together.”

I nod.

They turn to go inside. Darius lingers a second longer.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he says.

Then he follows the others.

I stand there in the fading light, arms wrapped around myself, listening to the forest settle.

Silver Moon is coming.

But so am I.

And this time, I’m not running alone.