Chapter 6

I had always believed that when wolves surrounded their prey, the only question left was how long it would take them to attack. That night, standing alone beyond Blood Moon territory with my back pressed against a pine tree, I discovered there were exceptions to everything I had ever been taught.

The wolves emerged between the trees without making a sound. Their eyes reflected the moonlight, pale gold and amber, while their enormous bodies moved through the undergrowth with a confidence that made my stomach tighten.

I counted five at first, then seven, until another shadow separated itself from the darkness behind them. They were larger than ordinary wolves, their shoulders nearly level with my waist, and their coats ranged from charcoal gray to almost pure black.

I had no weapon, no protection, and nowhere to run that they could not follow. My legs still ached from the journey, and the fear I had been fighting since leaving Blood Moon threatened to overwhelm the last of my strength. One hand moved instinctively to my stomach, where the secret I carried had already changed every decision I made.

“Please,” I whispered, although I had no idea whether wolves understood the word or cared about the desperation behind it.

The nearest animal stopped several paces away. It lowered its head, nostrils flaring as it drew in my scent, and the others followed its example. None bared their teeth. None crouched to spring. Instead, they watched me with an unsettling intensity, as if they had found something they had been searching for and were waiting to confirm it.

I tried to step sideways, but the pack shifted with me, closing the space I had hoped to escape through. My pulse hammered so hard that I could hear it in my ears. I had survived Garrick's punishments, Rosalie's cruelty, and Adrian Blackthorn's public rejection, but none of those experiences had prepared me to stand before a pack of wild wolves that seemed to recognize something about me that I could not understand.

The largest wolf came forward.

He was unmistakably the leader, with a broad head, thick black fur, and a silver streak running from his forehead down the bridge of his nose. His eyes settled on mine, and a strange pressure gathered behind my ribs. It was not the familiar ache of fear, nor was it the sickening pull I associated with the mate bond. This sensation seemed to rise from somewhere deeper, somewhere I had never been able to reach.

I pressed myself harder against the tree, searching for a way past him. The leader took another step, and something inside me snapped.

“Stay back!”

The words escaped before I could think. I had not meant to shout, and I certainly had not intended to sound like someone accustomed to being obeyed. Yet my voice carried through the forest with a force that made the birds sleeping in the branches burst into flight.

Every wolf froze.

The leader lowered his head.

Not the cautious dip of an animal preparing to spring, nor the submissive posture of a defeated opponent. He bowed deliberately, bringing his muzzle close to the forest floor while the rest of the pack lowered themselves behind him. For one impossible moment, all I could hear was the wind moving through the pines and the unsteady sound of my own breathing.

I stared at them, unable to understand what I was seeing. Wolves did not bow to human women. They certainly did not bow to someone the pack had spent twenty years calling wolf-less, someone who had never managed even the smallest shift or heard a wolf's voice inside her mind.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

The leader remained still, his head lowered as though he were waiting for permission to rise. A strange warmth spread through my chest and travelled down my arms, reaching my fingertips in a slow, tingling wave. It felt almost comforting, like stepping into sunlight after spending hours in the cold, but there was an unfamiliar weight beneath it that made me uneasy.

I looked down at my hands. They were trembling, though not as violently as before. For a fleeting instant, I thought I saw a faint golden shimmer beneath my skin, but when I blinked, there was nothing except the pale moonlight reflecting off my knuckles.

The warmth faded slightly, leaving me breathless.

I had no explanation for what had happened. Perhaps I was exhausted enough to imagine things. Perhaps these wolves had encountered someone before and were reacting to a scent I could not detect. I clung to those possibilities because the alternative was too frightening to consider: that something inside me had answered them, and they had understood.

“Go,” I said, more quietly this time. “Please. Just leave me alone.”

The leader lifted his head enough to meet my eyes. He held my gaze for several seconds, and I felt the same strange pressure behind my ribs, like a door inside me had begun to open without revealing what lay on the other side. Then he turned away.

One by one, the wolves retreated into the forest. They did not rush or scatter. They moved with the same measured precision with which they had approached, disappearing between the trees until only the leader remained. Before following his pack, he glanced back at me, his amber eyes lingering on my face with an expression I could not interpret.

Then he was gone.

I stayed against the tree long after the forest had fallen silent, afraid that moving would somehow undo the fragile peace that had settled around me. When I finally trusted my legs enough to stand straight, I realized I had been holding my breath. I released it slowly and wiped my damp palms against my trousers.

Whatever had happened, it had not changed the facts of my life. I was still alone, still pregnant, and still beyond the border of the only territory I had ever known. Adrian had rejected me before his entire pack, and I had no reason to believe he would protect me now simply because some wild wolves had chosen not to attack.

I resumed walking toward the human borderlands, following the narrow trail I had found earlier. My feet hurt, and the cold had begun to settle into my clothes, but I forced myself forward. I needed shelter, food, and time to decide what I would do next. More than anything, I needed to reach a place where no one knew my name.

Behind me, the forest shifted.

I turned, expecting to see the pack returning, but the trees stood empty beneath the moon. Farther away, beyond the trail I had followed, a single dark shape moved between the trunks. It was one of the wolves, though I could not tell which one. Instead of following me, it had turned toward the distant hills, moving quickly through a route that seemed familiar to it.

I watched until the darkness swallowed it.

Then I faced forward and continued toward the human lands, unaware that the wolf was carrying news of me to others who had spent years hiding beyond the reach of the great packs. Somewhere in the wilderness, a network of rogues was about to learn that a woman believed to be powerless had crossed into their world—and that an entire pack of wolves had bowed before her.

By the time I reached a rocky rise overlooking the borderlands, the moon had climbed higher, and my legs threatened to give out. I lowered myself onto a stone and pressed a hand against my stomach, trying to steady the fear that had returned with every unanswered question.

I did not know why the wolves had bowed. I did not know what the warmth inside me meant, or why, for a few seconds, I had felt as though the forest itself were listening to my voice. I only knew that I could not return to Blood Moon and beg for answers from the people who had taught me to believe I was worth nothing.

So I stood, gathered what remained of my strength, and continued into the unfamiliar darkness.

I had no idea that, behind the walls I had left, Adrian Blackthorn had already discovered my escape. He would call his orders a matter of pack security and deny that the bond he had publicly rejected had anything to do with his sudden urgency. But the guards who had watched me leave had seen something he could not explain away so easily: several wolves bowing toward me as though I were someone they had been born to obey.