Chapter 79 – A Wolf’s Instinct

Chapter 79 – A Wolf’s Instinct
Jared moved along the treeline, each step measured, senses stretched thin. The night was quiet, but not in the way it should have been. Too quiet. The kind of silence that prickled at the back of his neck and set Zeus pacing inside of him.

Sam trailed a step behind, his voice low. “That ruckus earlier… I don’t like it. Bears don’t usually stir the air and then slink off without showing their faces.”

Jared’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t wanted to leave Kori’s side, not even for a patrol, but when the disturbance was reported—snapped branches, strange scents that disappeared before they could be tracked—he couldn’t ignore it. Still, the unease gnawed at him.

“They wanted us to notice,” Jared muttered. His hand brushed the rough bark of a tree as he scanned the shadows beyond. “It wasn’t an accident. They were testing our response time.”

Sam grunted. “And pulling us away from the house.”

The words landed like stones in Jared’s gut. He stopped walking, head snapping toward Sam, golden eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Exactly.”

Sam frowned. “You think they’d risk sneaking in? With this many warriors posted?”

Jared’s lip curled. “Bears are reckless bastards when they want something bad enough.”

Zeus snarled inside him, restless, agitated. Jared couldn’t shake it—this sense that the threat wasn’t out here at all, but back where he’d left her.

Sam glanced at him, reading the tension written in every line of his body. “You’re thinking about her.”

Jared didn’t answer right away. His gaze swept the dark woods again, but his mind was already back in that bedroom, picturing Kori alone. His voice came out rough when he finally spoke. “I should never have left her.”

The silence pressed in heavier the longer they walked. Even the wind seemed to have died, leaving only the faint crunch of boots on leaf litter.

‘Something’s wrong.’ Zeus’s growl rumbled in the back of Jared’s mind, sharp and insistent. The wolf had been restless since the moment they stepped away from the farmhouse, but now he was downright agitated—ears pinned back, tail lashing.

Jared clenched his jaw. You’re imagining it, he told himself. But the words rang hollow.

‘She’s alone,’ Zeus snapped, prowling the cage of Jared’s thoughts. ‘She shouldn’t be alone. Go back. Now.’

Sam broke into his thoughts. “You hear that?” He tilted his head, scanning the trees.

Jared strained his ears, but there was nothing—just the faint crackle of leaves settling somewhere far off. His wolf still bristled.

“Nothing,” Jared muttered, though his hand had already flexed near his thigh, itching for a weapon.

Sam gave him a sidelong look. “You’re wound tighter than usual. And that’s saying something.”

Jared dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “It’s Kori,” he admitted, voice low. “Zeus is losing his damn mind. Can’t shake the feeling she’s not safe.”

Sam’s brows knit together. “The whole place is crawling with guards, Jared. You know she’s the last person they’d let anything happen to.”

But Jared wasn’t convinced. His wolf snarled again, a sound so loud in his head that he almost expected Sam to hear it too.

‘She’s ours,’ Zeus barked. ‘And she’s not safe. Turn back.’

Jared’s pulse quickened. The hairs on his arms stood on end. He didn’t want to admit it—not out loud, not even to himself—but Zeus had never been wrong before.

And deep down, Jared already knew: something was waiting for them back at the farmhouse.

—

The farmhouse finally came into view, its silhouette etched against the pale moonlight. Relief should have settled into Jared’s chest at the sight of home—but instead, his stomach dropped.

Movement.

A shadow slipped through the trees at the edge of the property, fast, purposeful, and gone before Jared could fully lock onto it. But his wolf didn’t need a second look.

The second Jared caught sight of the figure melting into the tree line, his body went taut.

‘Intruder!’ Zeus roared, claws raking through Jared’s mind. ‘Too close. Too close to her.’

“Sam—back to the house. Now!”

There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His instincts screamed, Zeus’s growls already reverberating in his skull.  Adrenaline ripped through Jared, setting his body into motion before Sam even registered what he’d seen. He tore forward at a dead sprint, gravel and dirt spraying beneath his boots. His heart hammered, not from exertion but from the sharp, choking terror that gripped him.

She’s inside.

She’s ours.

She’s not safe.

Every thought was laced with Zeus’s panic, the wolf practically clawing to get free, to take control and close the distance faster. Jared’s chest constricted, lungs fighting for air as he pushed harder, vision narrowing to the farmhouse door.

Sam cursed behind him, trying to keep pace. “Jared—what the hell did you see?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jared barked, not slowing. “Didn’t need to see. Someone was here,” Jared shot back, lungs burning as the farmhouse loomed in the distance. “Too close. Too damn close.”

Zeus was beyond reason now, pacing and snapping inside his skull, each second stretching like a knife against Jared’s throat.

‘Faster!’ Zeus snarled, pacing inside him like a caged beast. ‘She’s in danger, Jared. She needs us!’

Jared forced his legs to pump harder, his heart pounding in a rhythm that wasn’t entirely his own. Fear and fury tangled together until it was all he could taste. The world narrowed to the front porch—each stride too slow, every second wasted.

Sam’s voice was a distant blur now, swallowed by the thunder of Jared’s pulse and Zeus’s unrelenting urgency.

‘She’s ours. Protect her. Protect her!’

The farmhouse rose out of the night like a beacon, but instead of comfort, dread coiled tighter in Jared’s chest. The silence was wrong.Jared’s legs burned, but he didn’t stop. 

“Gods,” Sam muttered at Jared’s side, sweat glistening on his brow. “If someone touched her—”

“They won’t.” Jared cut him off with a snarl, his voice edged with Zeus’s growl. “I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands.”

They hit the porch in unison, the boards rattling beneath their combined weight. Jared didn’t slow. He wrenched the door open, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to strike.

His boots slammed against the porch, the wood groaning beneath his weight as he reached the door. His hand fumbled against the knob, slick with sweat, and then he was inside, his voice already breaking free into a guttural snarl.

“KORI!” His roar shook the silence, echoing through the house like a battle cry.

No answer.

The scent hit him then—metallic, sharp, unmistakable. Blood.