Chapter 5 (continued)

Talia lunged toward the nearest wolf with a grizzly snarl, muscles rippling beneath her fur. The forest exploded with motion—leaves whipping, earth scattering under her paws as she slammed into Bradly's side with bone-rattling force.

Her teeth snapped inches from his muzzle, hot breath steaming in the cold air. The old wolf snarled back, a low, guttural sound that trembled between fear and defiance. It was enough to spark a fresh surge of rage through her.

The growl that tore from her throat was ancient—something older than words. A sound that came from the marrow of her bloodline, from generations of leaders who’d ruled before her.

Old Bradly flinched, baring his neck at last, but the hesitation had been too long. Too bold.

Talia slammed her paw down onto his chest, claws digging into the dirt beside his ribs as she pressed him flat. The air whooshed from his lungs in a pitiful gasp. Her fangs hovered a hair’s breadth from his throat, the heat of her breath stirring the fur there.

Her snarl echoed in the pack link, loud enough to make Kern's ears flatten even from yards away.
“What the hell do you two think you’re doing!?” she roared into their minds, the words like thunder. “There is no room for insubordinate wolves in my pack!”

Dedrick whimpered under her weight, his pride crumbling to ash as her fury burned through the bond. She stamped her paw harder against his chest, the sound sharp and final.

Her head whipped around to Toddry, who was already belly-down in the dirt, trembling. His tail was tucked so far beneath him it brushed his muzzle.

Talia’s eyes glowed faintly in the dim light—livid streaks of violet catching on the dawn. “Both of you,” she hissed, her voice rough with authority, “return to the pack. Now.”

The command pulsed through the bond like fire, searing and absolute.

The two males scrambled up, tails low, and disappeared into the underbrush without another word.

Talia stood there for a long moment, chest heaving, the sound of her growl slowly dying away into silence. The forest seemed to hold its breath around her.

Her anger still pulsed in her blood, but beneath it ran something else—something heavier. Guilt.

She hadn’t wanted to lose her temper. Not in front of him.

Her ears twitched, catching a faint sound behind her—the rustle of boots on damp earth. She turned just enough to see Atticus standing at the edge of the clearing, motionless. His eyes were wide, not with fear exactly, but with the kind of stunned recognition she’d only ever seen from those who had begun to awaken.

The wind shifted, carrying his scent to her again—pine, steel, and something unmistakably human, threaded with a faint trace of wolf that shouldn’t have been there.

Her pulse jumped.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, without another sound, Talia turned and vanished into the forest’s embrace, the shadows swallowing her whole.

Atticus turned to face Johnathan after the wolves had vanished into the tree line. His friend’s jaw hung slack, eyes wide and wild.

“What the hell was that!?” Johnathan hollered, voice echoing through the clearing.

Atticus just shook his head, still staring into the dark where the violet-eyed wolf had disappeared. “Looks like we were saved by a wolf… from wolves.”

Johnathan blinked. “Okay, but since when do wolves attack each other to defend humans? Don’t they, you know, gang up and eat us alive?”

Atticus shot him a narrow look. “Wolves are incredibly intelligent creatures. Besides—” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “The one that saved us… is the same one I found yesterday.”

His own words froze in the air between them.

Johnathan’s brow shot up. “Wait. That’s what you were doing yesterday? I knew it wasn’t some appointment. You never just leave the site like that! Hell, they can barely get you to take vacation time. You took a wolf home?”

“She was injured,” Atticus said, more sharply than intended. “That stupid tree clipped her on the way down.”

“What?” Johnathan barked a disbelieving laugh. “That tree was massive! You’re telling me it hit her and she walked away? No—she looks fully healed, and well enough to throw down with two others on top of it! That’s not a normal wolf, man. Maybe she’s a mutant.”

The word hit like a slap. Atticus’s head snapped toward him, nostrils flaring. “She’s not a mutant. Don’t you ever say something like that again.”

Johnathan took a step back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, sheesh. I was joking. But seriously, dude, she’s an animal. Aren’t you getting a little too defensive over—”

“Enough.”

The word came out low, almost a growl. Atticus felt the sound vibrate in his chest before he realized he’d even made it. The air between them went still.

Johnathan blinked again, uneasy now. “You all right, boss?”

Atticus dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. What was wrong with him? His pulse was too fast, his skin hot beneath the cool forest air. The scent of pine and damp soil was thick, and somewhere beneath it all he could still smell her.

He swallowed hard, forcing a half-smile. “Yeah… I dunno, man. Guess I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”

They packed up the last of the gear in uneasy silence. When Atticus climbed into his truck, he found himself glancing one last time toward the forest. The trees were still again, but he could feel it—the pull. That same invisible thread tugging at something deep inside him, something that hadn’t stirred in years.

As he started the engine, the sound of it cut through the hush like a blade.

Still, for a moment, he could’ve sworn he heard an answering howl in the distance.