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
I never thought I'd be back in Cedar Grove, yet here I was, sitting behind my father's old desk in the clinic he'd built from the ground up. Dr. Isla Rivers, following in her father's footsteps – that's what everyone in town kept saying, their voices laced with pity. Twenty-eight years old, newly appointed head veterinarian of Cedar Grove Animal Clinic, and completely alone. Well, not completely. I had my patients – the four-legged variety that couldn't ask questions about Dad's disappearance or why I'd abandoned my promising career at a prestigious Chicago animal hospital to return to this tiny town.The scratching sound came again, pulling me from my thoughts. It had been haunting me all afternoon. I set my pen down on the last patient file of the day, trying to ignore how my hand trembled. Through the clinic's windows, I watched dusk paint our small town in shades of amber and shadow. The scratches had been getting louder, accompanied by whimpers and whispered conversations beyond
The woods stretched out before me, their tangled branches like skeletal arms against the star-pierced sky. The journal’s leather cover felt warm in my hand, as if it were absorbing my nervous energy. Each step I took toward the clearing felt heavier, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on me.What did Astra mean about my father being part of a world I knew nothing about? And how did I fit into it?I tightened my grip on the flashlight as the cemetery gates creaked shut behind me, the sound echoing into the still night. The gravel path gave way to dirt, and soon the dense forest swallowed me whole. The air here was different—cooler, thicker, and laced with a faint scent of pine and something metallic that set my teeth on edge.The clearing wasn’t far, Astra had said, but it felt like the trail stretched endlessly into darkness. I kept moving, the journal tucked under my arm and my flashlight cutting through the shadows. Every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig made me jump
By the time I reached the edge of the forest, my lungs burned, and my legs felt like they’d been turned to lead. I stumbled into the clearing behind the clinic, my flashlight swinging wildly, illuminating nothing but empty darkness. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the distant howls that still echoed through the woods.The journal was clutched tightly to my chest, its crescent moon mark now feeling more like a brand than an emblem. My hands trembled as I slid down against the side of the building, struggling to catch my breath.What had I just seen? Wolves that weren’t wolves. Astra turning into one of them like it was the most natural thing in the world. And those rogues… they weren’t just after me. They were after this.The journal.I glanced down at it, my fingers tracing the edges of the leather cover. Questions swirled in my mind, each one more impossible than the last. Was Astra okay? Who—or what—had my father been? And why did these creatures care so much about this ol
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
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 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 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 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 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