3. Chapter

Rowan’s POV

My mother was already yelling before I even stepped fully into the house with the girl in my arms. The whole damn back of the pack probably heard her.

She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t need more than two words for everyone to know: trouble is here. And right now, trouble was screaming at me.

I set the girl down on the wooden table before my mother could launch into another tirade. Her head lolled to the side with the movement, and that’s when I finally noticed just how soaked in blood her hairline was. Dark streaks ran down her neck. Her clothes were drenched with melted snow. Her chest barely lifted with each breath.

Fuck.

“Myra!” I snapped. “Now!”

Our healer rushed in immediately, cloak tossed back. My mother stood beside her, arms crossed, staring at me like I was personally responsible for summoning the entire snowstorm.

“Tilt her head,” Myra instructed as she leaned over the girl. “There’s a contusion on her nape. Deep.”

“No surprise,” I muttered. “Her car’s totaled. Honestly, it’s a miracle she’s alive.”

Myra wiped the blood from her hairline with quick, precise movements. The girl flinched at the touch of the cold cloth but didn’t wake.

The wolf inside me stiffened.

Be gentle. Don’t hurt her.

I was getting seriously fucking tired of that voice.

“When did you become this stupid?” my mother finally asked. And for her, that tone was practically affectionate. “The forest is crawling with danger, and you bring home an injured, foreign woman? Even though you can feel what she is?”

“I don’t feel anything,” I answered too fast.

My mother’s eyes narrowed. Yeah, I screwed that up. She always knows when I react too quickly.

“Right. Nothing,” she repeated sarcastically, stepping closer. “I can feel it from the doorstep, Rowan. Her scent. Her presence. The whole house is vibrating with it.”

Myra nodded. “Her energy is unusual. Something moves beneath her skin. Not magic… something else.”

“She’s just human,” I said, shaking my head. “A human in trouble.”

“You say it like you almost believe it,” my mother bit back.

That’s when the girl let out a soft moan. The sound was thin, fragile… but it shot through me like electricity. The wolf inside me growled.

Hear that? Alive. Ours.

“Shut up,” I snarled inwardly.

Calder returned with the warm blanket I’d asked for. He set it beside the table, eyeing the girl with a low whistle.

“Damn, boss… she looks rough.”

“Great observation,” I said. “I didn’t bring her here because I thought she wanted to do yoga with us.”

Myra glanced at me. “The wound isn’t fatal, but it’s dangerous. A hit to the nape can cause complications hours later. We need to wake her.”

I leaned in. Closer than I should have.

I don’t know why—but my body did.

My wolf did.

Her skin was freezing, but her breath was warm. Her eyelashes were stuck to her cheeks. The blood in her hair gave off a bitter scent, but underneath it was that smell—the one that tightened my chest and made my pulse stumble.

“Hey,” I whispered, leaning even closer. “Time to wake up. You’re not dying here.”

My voice dropped low. Too low.

Like I wasn’t calling her—

but summoning her.

The wolf inside me purred in satisfaction.

The girl’s eyelids fluttered but didn’t open.

Myra placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Let her rest. Her body is in shock.”

I pulled back—but only a little. Just enough not to touch her while still feeling her presence in my bones.

My mother walked slowly around the table, never taking her eyes off the girl.

“You know what this means?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing,” I replied stubbornly.

“Rowan.” Her voice softened—a rare, dangerous softness, like the calm before an avalanche. “From the moment you carried her inside, the whole pack has been on edge. Your wolves are unsettled. And your own wolf…”

“My wolf is overreacting,” I snapped. “Because I’m tired. Because we don’t have time for a fucking human girl.”

My mother raised an eyebrow. “Ah. ‘Human girl.’ That’s what you tell yourself so it feels safer?”

I didn’t answer.

Myra sighed. “She’ll need warmth. The cold strained her muscles. She’ll spike a fever soon. And her body is reacting too quickly to something… as if she’s fighting something inside.”

That hit me harder than I expected.

Fighting something inside.

Yes.

As if something old, instinctive, buried deep—was waking in her.

And my wolf was responding to it like it had never responded to anyone before.

Calder draped the blanket over her shoulders when Myra signaled. The moment the fabric touched her skin, the girl shivered again.

I forced down the twist in my gut.

Alphas aren’t wired for guilt.

But when I saw how her fingers curled involuntarily, as if reaching for something that wasn’t there…

My chest tightened painfully.

“She’ll be all right,” Myra murmured, reading my expression too easily. “But she’ll need watching.”

“I’ll watch her,” I said—too quickly.

My mother’s head snapped toward me.

So did every wolf in the room.

The air went still.

Even the snow outside seemed to pause.

Myra slowly nodded. “Then stay with her tonight.”

Calder snorted. “Rowan? On night duty with a girl? That’s new.”

“Say one more word and I’ll toss you into the snow,” I growled, my voice dropping deeper than usual.

My mother placed a firm hand on my shoulder. Strong, grounding.

“I’m warning you, son,” she said quietly. “If you feel what I think you’re feeling… you’d better prepare yourself. Because the entire mountain will change.”

I looked at her.

But I didn’t speak.

Couldn’t speak.

The girl let out another soft breath, her head tilting to the side again. The blood on her nape had dried, but the wound still burned red. Myra carefully bandaged it.

And inside me, the wolf rose once more, low and primal:

Don’t let her go.

It infuriated me.

Because for the first time in my life…

I wasn’t sure I could command it to stop.