The Howl In The Wind

Killian

The wind shifted.

I felt it before I saw the signs—before the birds took to the skies in frightened flocks, before the scent of foreign wolves painted the breeze with warning. Something was moving through the trees, closer than it should be. My jaw tightened as I knelt, fingers pressed to the soil. Too many tracks. Too heavy for rogues.

They were searching.

They’d come for her.

Selene was still at the edge of the glade, wiping the remnants of ash from her arms like it didn’t bother her anymore. But I could see it—the tightness around her mouth, the flicker of her lashes when she thought no one was watching. She had faced herself in that circle. She had survived it. But she hadn’t forgotten.

That kind of pain doesn’t disappear. It burrows. It waits.

And now it had company.

"They’re close," I said quietly.

She looked up, eyes sharp. "Damon’s wolves?"

I nodded. "At least three. Maybe more."

Her mouth curled, but there was no fear in it. Only something dark. Calculating. "Let me face them."

"You’re not ready," I said.

She stepped toward me, her presence sparking something hot beneath my ribs. "Then get me ready."

She was stubborn. Fierce. The kind of fire that didn’t just burn—it consumed. I could feel it in her every move, in the defiant rise of her chin, in the way her hands no longer trembled when she spoke of Damon.

"We don’t fight on their terms," I told her. "We fight on ours. Come."

We moved swiftly through the forest, taking a hidden trail known only to the oldest bloodlines. This part of the woods was sacred. Untouched. A place where old magic slept. Where instincts sharpened. Where wolves learned what it meant to be more than teeth and fur.

"Why here?" she asked.

I led her into a clearing ringed by stones marked with runes. "Because this is where they’ll bleed if they try to take you. And because it’s time you understood who I am."

Her breath caught.

I shifted.

Not into the half-forms of modern wolves, not the clean lines of pack warriors. I shifted into something older. Darker. My fur was black as void, my eyes glowing gold with the weight of centuries. I heard her heartbeat stutter.

She didn’t flinch.

Instead, she stepped closer. "What are you?"

I let the shift melt away and stood before her again in human skin, breath steaming in the cold air. "The last of the Hollowfangs. The bloodline your pack erased."

Her eyes widened. She whispered, "You’re a royal."

"I was." I met her gaze. "Until your former Alpha helped destroy my kind."

The weight of it hit her. I saw it in the flicker of horror across her face. "My father… Damon…?"

"They were part of it."

She took a step back, then another. Her fists clenched. "I didn’t know."

"I don’t blame you," I said. "But I brought you here because you need to choose. You can go back to hiding. Or you can become something they’ll never forget."

Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. "And if I choose the latter?"

I walked toward her, slow and steady, until there was barely space between us. Her scent was sharper now—wild, defiant, the beginnings of an Alpha’s presence. I reached out and took her hand, pressing it to my chest.

"Then we rebuild what they tried to kill. Together."

Her eyes met mine, and something passed between us—hot and trembling. A promise. A warning.

Then the wind howled again.

Wolves.

Selene turned her head, nostrils flaring. "They’re almost here."

"Then let’s greet them properly."

She smiled.

And the forest trembled.

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