The drive back to town felt like an eternity. Isla’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her mind racing with images of the cave, Astra’s snarling form, and the glowing red eyes of the rogues. Scout sat in the passenger seat, sensing her unease, occasionally whining softly in concern.
She couldn’t shake the hum that had resonated through her very bones, nor the cryptic symbols etched into the stone walls of the cave. The journal rested on the seat beside her, its worn cover holding answers she desperately needed but couldn’t yet decipher.
As the familiar streets of Cedar Grove came into view, Isla’s thoughts shifted to Luca. He needed to know what had happened, about Astra’s warning and the rogues’ sudden organization. But even as she resolved to tell him, doubt crept in. Would the pack believe her? Or would her connection to Astra—a rogue in their eyes—only fuel their suspicions?
By the time she reached the clinic, the sun was high, but the day felt
The night air was crisp, laced with the faint tang of pine and the earthy scent of the forest. Isla stood just outside the den’s main lodge, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket as the distant murmurs of the council echoed from within. She exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air, trying to calm her racing thoughts.Luca emerged from the shadows, his tall frame illuminated by the soft glow of the lodge’s lights. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a storm of emotions—worry, frustration, and something that looked dangerously like guilt.“They’re still talking,” he said, coming to stand beside her.“They don’t trust me,” Isla replied, her voice flat.“They don’t trust anyone easily, not even each other,” Luca said. “It’s not personal. They’re scared. The rogues have never been this organized before.”Isla shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like enough. I told them what I know, but it’s like they’re looking for an
The interior of Gideon’s cabin was exactly what Isla expected—dimly lit, cluttered, and steeped in history. Shelves lined the walls, packed with books, scrolls, and odd trinkets that seemed ancient beyond reckoning. A large table dominated the center of the room, its surface covered with open tomes and scattered notes.“Don’t touch anything,” Gideon muttered as he shuffled toward the hearth. He gestured for them to sit at the table while he set a kettle to boil.Isla sat carefully, her eyes scanning the strange artifacts around her. Some of the objects hummed with an energy she couldn’t quite place. A shiver ran down her spine as she wondered what secrets this hermit had uncovered in his solitude.Luca, seated beside her, remained silent, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. He seemed to fit into this space as naturally as he did the forest outside—something about his presence felt timeless, like he belonged in both the past and the present.Gideon ret
The pack house was quiet when Isla and Luca returned, the weight of Gideon’s revelations hanging heavily between them. The crescent moon cast a pale glow over the grounds, illuminating the forest’s edge and the faint trails leading deeper into the wild. Scout padded beside them, his wagging tail the only thing breaking the stillness.Luca slowed his stride as they neared the main door, glancing at Isla. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day.”She nodded but hesitated. “And what about you?”“I’ll keep watch,” Luca replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “Gideon’s right—the rogues won’t wait long to make their move. We can’t afford to let our guard down.”Isla frowned but didn’t argue. She understood the gravity of the situation, even if it made her uneasy. She reached for the journal in her bag, holding it out to him. “You should take this. If something happens—”“Nothing’s going to happen,” Luca interrupted, his voice low and steady. “Keep
The night air was unnervingly still, the kind of silence that felt alive, pressing against the senses like a warning. Luca stood on the pack house's front porch, his posture tense and his eyes scanning the tree line. The unease that had been simmering all day now burned hot in his veins.Behind him, the pack house buzzed with subdued activity. Callan was organizing patrols, and the younger wolves, though inexperienced, were determined to prove their worth. Everyone could sense it—the storm brewing just beyond the trees.Luca exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cool air. His mark itched under his sleeve, a subtle reminder of his responsibilities as alpha-in-waiting and of the connection he couldn’t ignore—both to the pack and to Isla.The door creaked open behind him, and Isla stepped out, wrapping a thick cardigan around her shoulders. Her presence brought a warmth to the cool night, but her expression was tight with determination.“Any sign of the
The aftermath of the attack left a haunting stillness over the pack house. The rogues had retreated, but their assault left more than physical scars. The younger wolves sat in clusters, their hushed murmurs filled with uncertainty, while Callan organized efforts to repair the shattered windows and doors.Luca’s gaze lingered on Isla as she sat at the kitchen table, the journal clutched tightly in her hands. She looked pale but resolute, her lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to ask what had happened upstairs—what had driven the rogue to flee without a fight—but the exhaustion in her eyes told him now wasn’t the time.Instead, he turned to Callan. “How’s everyone holding up?”“Better than expected,” Callan replied, his tone clipped. “No fatalities, but a few close calls. The younger ones proved themselves tonight.”Luca nodded, his jaw tightening. “And the rogues?”“Gone, for now,” Callan said, but there was an edge of doubt in his voice. “The
Isla stood at the edge of the forest, the journal clutched tightly in her hands. The cool breeze carried the scent of pine and earth, calming in its familiarity, yet it did little to soothe the storm brewing within her. She had spent hours poring over the journal, its cryptic passages echoing in her mind like a riddle she couldn’t solve.The whispers of the voice from the night before lingered, faint but persistent. Remember who you are. The words had burrowed into her thoughts, a thread she couldn’t untangle no matter how hard she tried.Behind her, the pack house bustled with activity. Repairs were nearly complete, and the wolves moved with a sense of purpose, their focus on strengthening defenses and preparing for the inevitable return of the rogues. Yet even with their unity, a shadow loomed over them—a question of why the rogues were so relentless and what they truly wanted.Isla exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the crisp morning air. She turn
Luca paced the length of the pack’s war room, his mind a tempest of thoughts. The meeting earlier had left him unsettled—no closer to answers than they had been after the rogues’ last attack. The pack’s trust in his leadership was unshaken, but Luca felt the weight of their unspoken questions: Why are they attacking? What do they want?He had no clear answers, and it was driving him mad. The journal Isla held was crucial—he could feel it in his bones—but unlocking its secrets seemed more elusive than ever.The low creak of the door behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Callan entered, his expression grave but steady, the way it always was when something serious loomed.“You’re restless,” Callan observed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.“Restless doesn’t even cover it,” Luca admitted, running a hand through his hair. “The rogues are waiting for something, but I don’t know what. And this prophecy…” He trailed off, shaking h
The packhouse was restless. Even in the early hours of dawn, the usual hum of life was overshadowed by tension. Word of Isla’s suggestion had spread like wildfire, and everyone had their opinion. Luca’s gut churned with unease as he watched the pack splinter into quiet conversations, heads nodding or shaking in disagreement.Isla had stayed silent through breakfast, her brow furrowed in thought. Luca could tell she was working through every angle, but her quiet determination only made him more apprehensive.After breakfast, Luca called for a meeting in the war room. Isla arrived first, the journal tucked under her arm. She gave him a small nod, one that spoke of defiance and trust in equal measure.“I still think this is the best option,” she said before he could speak.Luca sighed. “And I still think it’s too dangerous.”“I’m not suggesting we throw ourselves into their trap,&rdqu
The journal sat between Isla and Luca on the heavy wooden table, its aged pages illuminated by the flickering glow of the fireplace. Isla stared at it, her fingers twitching slightly as if the weight of its secrets was something tangible pressing down on her.“We’re missing something,” she said finally, breaking the tense silence. Her voice was quiet but edged with frustration.Luca leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “We’re missing a lot of things. The rogue’s warning, the connection to the prophecy, and why your father had this in the first place.” His golden eyes locked onto hers, searching for something unspoken. “What’s your gut telling you?”Isla hesitated. Her instincts had been both a blessing and a curse lately, leading her to truths she wasn’t sure she was ready to face. “That this journal is more than just a key to the prophecy. It’s a map—guiding us
The cold night air wrapped around Luca like a second skin as he stepped outside. His senses sharpened, his body tensing in anticipation. The faint echo of the rogue’s howl still lingered, a challenge and a warning carried on the wind.The pack’s perimeter was silent, but Luca knew better than to trust the stillness. His wolves would be stationed at their usual posts, patrolling the edges of their territory, but rogues were cunning. They knew how to slip past unnoticed, exploiting weaknesses like predators on a wounded animal.His thoughts wandered briefly to Isla, safe within the meeting hall. She was strong, sharper than anyone gave her credit for, but the thought of her in harm’s way still churned his stomach. He pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand.A Familiar ScentLuca moved toward the tree line, his footsteps silent on the damp earth. The forest stretched out before him, an endless maze of shadows
The journal sat on the table like a living thing, its worn leather cover emanating an aura of mystery that filled the room. The pack’s meeting hall was quiet now, save for the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of papers as Astra flipped through pages of notes she had scrawled.Isla leaned forward, her elbows on the table, staring at the book as though it might suddenly offer its secrets. “We’ve been turning pages for hours, and we’re no closer to answers.”Luca, standing behind her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Sometimes the answers aren’t in plain sight. We need to look deeper.”Astra snorted, not bothering to look up. “Or maybe the answers are in plain sight, and we’re just too blind to see them.”Isla sighed and leaned back, her gaze shifting to the high windows where the moonlight spilled in, illuminating the room with an ethereal glow. The fight with th
The forest was alive with the low hum of activity. Isla could feel it—an undercurrent of tension that made the air crackle like an impending storm. She stood at the edge of the pack’s perimeter, Luca by her side, their breaths fogging in the crisp night air.The plan was simple on paper: lure the rogues into a controlled area where the pack could gain the upper hand. But simplicity often bred complications, and Isla couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that they were walking into something far more dangerous than they anticipated.“Stay close to me,” Luca murmured, his voice low but firm.“I’m not going to wander off,” Isla replied, her tone sharper than she intended. She immediately softened it with a glance at him. “I know what’s at stake.”Luca’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. She could see the worry in his eyes, though he tried to mask it with the stoicism befitting an alpha.Earlier that DayThe pack had gathere
The morning broke with a haze over the packhouse, the usual routine overshadowed by the tension brewing among the pack. The rogues’ message had shaken even the most seasoned wolves, and the senior members were scrambling to prepare for what felt inevitable.Isla woke to the sound of muffled voices outside her window. The pack’s courtyard buzzed with activity—wolves running drills, Callan barking orders, and younger pack members watching with wide eyes. The sight filled her with equal parts determination and dread.She stepped into the kitchen, her mind already turning over plans. Luca was there, leaning against the counter with a steaming mug of coffee. His expression was distant, but his eyes softened when he noticed her.“Morning,” he said, his voice rough from lack of sleep.“Did you get any rest?” Isla asked, already knowing the answer.“Not really.” He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze shifting to the window. “There’s too much to do.”She stepped closer, lowering her voice so th
The packhouse was restless. Even in the early hours of dawn, the usual hum of life was overshadowed by tension. Word of Isla’s suggestion had spread like wildfire, and everyone had their opinion. Luca’s gut churned with unease as he watched the pack splinter into quiet conversations, heads nodding or shaking in disagreement.Isla had stayed silent through breakfast, her brow furrowed in thought. Luca could tell she was working through every angle, but her quiet determination only made him more apprehensive.After breakfast, Luca called for a meeting in the war room. Isla arrived first, the journal tucked under her arm. She gave him a small nod, one that spoke of defiance and trust in equal measure.“I still think this is the best option,” she said before he could speak.Luca sighed. “And I still think it’s too dangerous.”“I’m not suggesting we throw ourselves into their trap,&rdqu
Luca paced the length of the pack’s war room, his mind a tempest of thoughts. The meeting earlier had left him unsettled—no closer to answers than they had been after the rogues’ last attack. The pack’s trust in his leadership was unshaken, but Luca felt the weight of their unspoken questions: Why are they attacking? What do they want?He had no clear answers, and it was driving him mad. The journal Isla held was crucial—he could feel it in his bones—but unlocking its secrets seemed more elusive than ever.The low creak of the door behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Callan entered, his expression grave but steady, the way it always was when something serious loomed.“You’re restless,” Callan observed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.“Restless doesn’t even cover it,” Luca admitted, running a hand through his hair. “The rogues are waiting for something, but I don’t know what. And this prophecy…” He trailed off, shaking h
Isla stood at the edge of the forest, the journal clutched tightly in her hands. The cool breeze carried the scent of pine and earth, calming in its familiarity, yet it did little to soothe the storm brewing within her. She had spent hours poring over the journal, its cryptic passages echoing in her mind like a riddle she couldn’t solve.The whispers of the voice from the night before lingered, faint but persistent. Remember who you are. The words had burrowed into her thoughts, a thread she couldn’t untangle no matter how hard she tried.Behind her, the pack house bustled with activity. Repairs were nearly complete, and the wolves moved with a sense of purpose, their focus on strengthening defenses and preparing for the inevitable return of the rogues. Yet even with their unity, a shadow loomed over them—a question of why the rogues were so relentless and what they truly wanted.Isla exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the crisp morning air. She turn
The aftermath of the attack left a haunting stillness over the pack house. The rogues had retreated, but their assault left more than physical scars. The younger wolves sat in clusters, their hushed murmurs filled with uncertainty, while Callan organized efforts to repair the shattered windows and doors.Luca’s gaze lingered on Isla as she sat at the kitchen table, the journal clutched tightly in her hands. She looked pale but resolute, her lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to ask what had happened upstairs—what had driven the rogue to flee without a fight—but the exhaustion in her eyes told him now wasn’t the time.Instead, he turned to Callan. “How’s everyone holding up?”“Better than expected,” Callan replied, his tone clipped. “No fatalities, but a few close calls. The younger ones proved themselves tonight.”Luca nodded, his jaw tightening. “And the rogues?”“Gone, for now,” Callan said, but there was an edge of doubt in his voice. “The