Chapter 4 – The Scent of Them

Ayla’s POV

The closer I get to the packhouse, the louder the world becomes again.

Voices carry through the trees—laughter, music—too bright against the dark.

Every sound feels wrong: too sharp, too close—too much. My senses don’t know how to filter anything anymore. Even the snow sounds louder beneath my paws.

Everything is too much.

My body doesn't feel like mine anymore — muscles restless, coiled under my skin, too full of energy. Every step feels like I could break into a sprint without meaning to.

Tala lingers at the edge of my thoughts, just watching, amused.

The packhouse glows ahead, warmth spilling across the snow. It should feel safe, but it doesn’t.

“I think we should shift back,” Tala says. “Unless you want to walk in like a lunatic and traumatize half the pack. I'd enjoy it, but apparently we're supposed to behave.”

I nod and slip behind the tree line.

The shift comes faster this time, but not easier. Pain tears through me, sharp and sudden. Bones grind, skin stretches.

I bite down hard, tasting blood as I force myself silent. By the time I’m standing again, human, I’m exhausted and shaking.

I grab my clothes and dress quickly, fingers clumsy and sore.

“Already falling apart?” Tala mutters. “We just got here. I’ve never seen a wolf this clumsy before.”

I ignore her, pulling my hoodie over my head. Once I’m done, I head toward the packhouse door and push it open.

Three different, intoxicating scents hit me at once. The force of it slams into me. My lungs seize, my vision blurs, my knees nearly give out. I clutch the doorframe, fingers digging into the wood hard enough to hurt.

My pulse trips — then hammers. “What is that smell?” I gasp, nostrils flaring.

“Oh,” Tala says, her voice suddenly sharp. “Well. That's… not good.”

I try not to breathe, but each scent slices through, hooks into me, drags something out from under my skin. My fingers go numb, ribs drawing tight as the scents wrap around me — pulling, clashing, tangling.

“Why do I feel like this?” I ask, my breathing shallow.

Tala goes quiet. Too quiet.

“…You're not going to like the answer,” she says finally.

I flinch, but before I can stop myself, my feet move.

The first scent pulls me down the hallway as if it's commanding me. Each step is heavy, like I'm being drawn where I shouldn't go.

I stop in front of a door.

Kael's.

The name hits like a fist. I can barely breathe.

“Of course it would be an Alpha,” Tala mutters, rolling her eyes. “Because fate has a sense of humor and clearly hates you.”

I stumble back a step. There's no way I can allow this.

The second scent snaps tight around me, dragging me further down the corridor, almost making me trip. I grab the door handle and instantly drop it — Ryker's room.

A chill runs straight down my spine.

“Goddess, you cannot be serious,” I mutter. “Are you punishing me?”

Tala stays silent, sharing my dread.

This can’t be real; I must be dreaming.

“It’s one sick dream you’re having,” Tala sneers.

Before I can reply, the third scent finds me. It isn’t as dominant as the others, but just as strong. It doesn’t pull me—it lingers, waiting for me to come to it.

My feet turn automatically to the third and final door.

I freeze. Soren.

Everything inside me goes quiet, like the world is holding its breath.

“No,” I whisper. “This… this can't be true.”

“Yeah,” Tala says, softer now. “You know what it means, don't you?”

I step away, shaking my head. And then it hits. Not a thought, not a word, but a force.

“Mate,” Tala says, and the word slams through me.

My breath rips from my lungs. My knees buckle. Something sharp and overwhelming locks into place inside me — like a key turning in a lock I didn't know existed.

I grab the wall to steady myself, trying to make sense of it all.

“What? What did you just say?” The words barely come out.

“They are our mate,” Tala repeats, without a hint of humor.

She goes quiet as I slowly shake my head in denial.

“No. No. No. This is wrong,” I whisper. “There is no—”

“All three of them,” Tala cuts me off. “Because apparently the universe doesn’t believe in doing things halfway.”

A sharp ache spreads through my sternum. Not them. Anyone but them.

I look up at Tala.

“Don't look at me like that,” she says quickly. “I didn't pick this. If I had, we'd aim for less drama and emotional catastrophe.”

I get up and run.

Their scents follow me down the hallway, clinging, pulling, wrapping around my lungs until it feels like I can't breathe without them. I hate it. I hate how it feels.

I reach my room and slam the door, pressing my back against it as if I can block it all out. But it doesn’t work; I can still smell them, like they’ve settled under my skin.

“They’re your mates,” Tala says, with no sarcasm.

I shake my head hard.

“No. They are not,” I say.

“Okay,” she replies lightly. “We can pretend. I support denial. It’s a strong coping mechanism. Very popular. For now.”

I slide down the door, pulling my knees to my chest, shaking my head as if that would help.

Three. Not just anyone. Them. Kael. Ryker. Soren. My tormentors.

“I won’t accept them,” I mutter, wiping tears from my eyes.

Tala hums softly.

“Bold strategy,” she says. “Historically unsuccessful, but I admire the confidence.”

I almost snap back. Almost.

But the feeling is already growing inside me.

I won’t accept them.

But my wolf already has.

****