Chapter Four: Questions

"Fiona!" Ennis's voice, distant but growing closer. "Fiona, where are you?"

Panic shot through her. She couldn't let him see. Couldn't let anyone see. The shift had

been instinct, survival, but now—now she had to hide it. Had to bury it deep and pretend

it had never happened.

The wolf resisted, wanting to run, to hunt, to revel in newfound freedom. But Fiona

forced her down, pushed back into the cage of her mind with desperate strength. The shift

reversed, bones cracking, fur receding, until she knelt on the grass in human form,

naked and shaking, her red hair wild around her shoulders.

She scrambled for her clothes, pulling them on with trembling hands just as Ennis burst

through the trees.

"F*e! Thank god, I—" He stopped, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene. The

scattered art supplies. Fiona's pale face, her red hair disheveled and damp with sweat.

And the three dark shadows burned into the grass. "What the hell happened here?"

Fiona's mind raced. "Rogues," she managed, her voice hoarse. "There were rogues. I

hid by the river until they left."

Ennis moved closer to the shadows, his red hair catching the last rays of sunlight as he

crouched down to examine them. His face was grim. "These aren't tracks. These are..."

He reached out as if to touch one, then thought better of it. "F*e, these look like... like

they were burned into the ground. But there are no scorch marks, no smell of fire." He

looked up at her, confusion and something else—suspicion?—in his green eyes. "What

are these?”

“I don't know." The lie tasted like ash on her tongue. "I was hiding. I didn't see what

happened. Maybe they fought each other? Maybe another wolf came through?"

"Another wolf?" Ennis stood, scanning the area. "There's no other scent here. Just

yours, and..." He inhaled deeply, his brow furrowing. "Something else. Something I've

never smelled before."

Fiona's heart hammered against her ribs. Could he smell the silver wolf? Could he

sense what she'd become?

He studied her for a long moment, and Fiona forced herself to meet his gaze, to keep

her expression neutral even as terror clawed at her throat. She could see him working

through it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, what he was smelling.

Finally, Ennis shook his head. "Come on. We need to get you back to the pack house.

needs to know about this. If rogues are this close to our territory, this bold..." He trailed

off, his jaw tight with worry.

Fiona nodded, gathering her supplies with shaking hands. Her canvas was ruined,

splattered with dirt and torn at one corner. She shoved it into her bag anyway, needing

something to do with her hands, needing to look normal.

As they walked back through the darkening forest, Ennis kept glancing at her, then at

the path behind them. "You're sure you're okay? They didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Fiona said. "I hid in time."

"In time," he repeated, but there was doubt in his voice. "F*e, those shadows... I've

never seen anything like that. It's like they were just... erased."

She said nothing, couldn't trust her voice.

Dad will want to investigate," Ennis continued. "He'll probably send a patrol out tonight. If

there are rogues that close, with that kind of power..." He shook his head. "I don't like

this."

Neither did Fiona. But not for the reasons Ennis thought.

They emerged from the forest as the last light faded from the sky. The pack house rose

before them, warm light spilling from windows, the sounds of the pack gathering for the

evening meal drifting on the air. It should have felt like home. Instead, it felt like a trap.

Ennis put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her before they reached the main building.

"F*e, if there's something you're not telling me..."

"There's nothing," she said quickly. Too quickly.

He searched her face, and for a moment she thought he would push, would demand the

truth. But then he sighed and dropped his hand. "Okay. But you know you can tell me anything, right? No matter what."

The words were meant to comfort. Instead, they felt like a weight settling on her chest.

Because she couldn't tell him. Couldn't tell anyone. Not until she understood what she

was, what she'd done.

"I know," she lied. "Thank you, Ennis."

He nodded and headed toward the pack house, probably to find Kieran and report what

they'd found. Fiona watched him go, then turned toward her own quarters, desperate for

solitude, for time to think.

But as she walked, she could feel the wolf in her mind, no longer howling, but watching.

Waiting. And she knew, with absolute certainty, that everything had changed.

The whispers would continue. The pack would still see her as wolfless. But Fiona

Moonstone carried a secret now, one that burned in her chest like a second heart.

She had a wolf. A silver wolf. A wolf that could reduce rogues to shadows with a touch.

And she had no idea what that made her.

But she knew someone who might. Someone who had looked at her on her eighteenth

birthday with recognition in his eyes, as if he'd been expecting this all along.

Kieran.

Her father knew something. And tomorrow, whether he wanted to or not, he was going

to tell her the truth.