Chapter 7 Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Alaric’s POV
The run back was shit. Every step pulled at the tear in my side, hot and wet under my fur, but I didn’t slow down. I could feel her the whole way—sharp little tugs in my chest, like she was scared but trying hard not to show it. Not actual words, just this cold, uneasy pull. She was still in the cabin. Alone. And something out there was smelling blood.
We burst through the last line of pines just as the alarms started up. Guards snapped to attention, staring at us like we’d dragged ourselves out of a grave. Blood-matted fur, three of us limping, two still back there buying time. I shifted on the move, skin ripping over muscle and bone, and nearly ate dirt covering the last ten yards to the hall.
“Lock the fucking perimeter,” I snarled at the nearest ones. “Silverfang’s testing us. Double the eastern ridge. Shoot first.”
No time for proper orders. My father was already outside, arms crossed, his face carved from granite.
“Talk,” he said.
I stopped, chest heaving. “Fenrir’s dead. Ripped open on the border, Silverfang all over him but sloppy, like they wanted us to know. We tracked three of their scouts to the Crags. They were running their mouths about reclamation. Kieran wants whatever Nova pulled out of Drake. Calls it his ‘essence.’ Said they’d use the bond to drag me out and gut me slow.”
He didn’t blink. “And?”
“And somebody else was there.” I wiped blood from my mouth. “Cloaked figures. Silent. They staked the scouts before we could get answers. Not Silverfang. No scent, no sound. Gone like smoke.”
He looked me over. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine if you drop before the real fight starts.” He let out a long breath. “Silverfang wants blood. We’ll drown them in it if they cross the line again. The girl…”
“She’s mine,” I said quietly. “Not up for discussion.”
His eyes stayed steady. “Then you’d better be ready to kill your own pack if they decide she’s not worth it. Half of them already think you’re thinking with your dick.”
“I claimed her. End of story.”
One slow nod. “Clean up. Then go to her. Tell her what’s coming. No more playing house.”
I didn’t answer. Just turned and walked away.
Nova’s POV
The settlement felt dead. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The kind where everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for the screaming to start.
I’d worn a groove in the floorboards all morning, trying not to think about the way Alaric had looked at me before he left. Like I was a problem he didn’t want to solve. The bond kept flickering—warm one second, ice the next—like it couldn’t make up its mind. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Drake’s face again, slack and empty. Every time I opened them I caught another whisper slipping under the door.
“She’s why we’re burying Fenrir.”
“Future Alpha’s pussy-whipped by a stray.”
“What if she’s carrying something worse than Silverfang?”
I pressed my forehead against the wall until the wood bit into my skin.
Whatever was still inside me—the piece I’d taken from Drake—it twisted, restless, like it could smell trouble coming and liked the taste.
The door banged open.
I whipped around so fast I nearly lost my balance.
Alaric filled the doorway. Shirt shredded, blood drying dark on his arm, hair wild, eyes locked on me like the rest of the world had already burned down. He didn’t speak at first. Just stepped inside and kicked the door shut. The room suddenly felt smaller. Hotter. That pull between us snapped tight—not some pretty tug, but a rope yanked hard between my ribs and his.
“You’re bleeding,” I said. Stupid. Obvious.
“Old news.” He crossed the space in three steps, close but not quite touching. “Nova. We need to talk.”
I couldn’t stop staring at the rip in his sleeve. “What happened out there?”
“Silverfang butchered Fenrir. Left him for us to find. We tracked them. They were bragging. Kieran wants his brother’s ‘essence’ back. Thinks you’ve got it. Thinks if they hurt me bad enough, the bond will make you come running.”
My stomach dropped. “They know.”
“They know enough to want your head on a spike.” His voice stayed even, but the anger underneath felt like live wire. “They’re planning to use me as bait. Figure I’ll be too busy protecting you to fight straight.”
I took a step back. “Then I should go. I can disappear. I’ve done it before…”
“No.” His hands closed around my arms. Not rough, but firm. “You’re not running. Not tonight. Not ever again.”
I let out a sound that was supposed to be a laugh but came out choked. “You call this safe? Your pack wants me gone. Your father probably wants me gone. Fenrir’s dead because of—”
“Because Silverfang is rabid, not because of you.” His thumbs brushed my skin once, barely. “My father gave his word you’re under pack protection. I gave mine. That counts for something.”
I looked up at him, throat tight. “And if they make you pick? Pack or me?”
He didn’t flinch. “Already picked.”
It hit me like a fist to the chest. Not sweet. Just heavy. Real.
He let go slowly, like it cost him. “There were others watching too. Cloaked figures. They killed the scouts clean before we could question them. No scent. No tracks. I don’t know who they are yet.”
“What if it’s worse than Silverfang?”
“Then we handle it.” He stepped closer again, voice dropping. “Both of us.”
I didn’t have words for that. I just nodded.
He exhaled, shoulders dropping a fraction. “Try to sleep. I’ll be outside. Nothing gets past me.”
He turned toward the door.
“Alaric.”
He paused, half-turned.
“Thanks,” I said, quieter than I meant. “For not… for picking.”
His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Night’s young.”
The door clicked shut behind him. I sat down hard on the bed, fingers pressed to the places his hands had been. The pull in my chest settled, steady for once. Not warm and fuzzy. Just there. Like an extra heartbeat I couldn’t shake.
Outside, the wind carried a howl. Long. Pissed off. From the border.
Silverfang.
They were coming.
And whatever else was hiding in the dark… it was still watching.