Scent and Secrets

Scent and Secrets
I’d been relentless, volunteering for nearly every patrol shift along Sunset Cliffs’ beach. A faint, familiar scent—a male werewolf—had haunted me since family night with Anthony and his father. It nagged at me, familiar yet unplaceable, stirring unease. The only scents I’d recognize would belong to neighboring pack alphas or my own Coronado pack, sprawling with its lesser branches. If Paige’s stalker, who’d chased her through these cliffs, knew the terrain well enough to pursue her so far, he was likely one of ours. The thought of a pack member trying to claim my mate ignited a growl deep in my chest, the idea of him manipulating her fear to drive her to me infuriating.
Crouching, I scoured the sand for that elusive scent, my focus narrowing until footsteps crunched nearby. I whipped around to see Anthony approaching.
“Hey,” he said, waving. “Find anything?”
I stood, shaking my head. “No. It’s faint, familiar, but I can’t place it. Now it’s even weaker, muddied by too many foreign scents. You got anything?”
“Nah,” Anthony replied. “We even tried Ama’s tracking spell variation—the one she thinks Dad doesn’t know about. Whatever clues were here aren’t enough to pinpoint who or where they went.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “So, we’re nowhere.”
“Not quite,” he said. “You confirmed it’s a local werewolf, not some rogue stirring trouble.”
We walked toward the cliff path Paige often took, hoping for a miracle clue. “I just wish I knew why he’d try to claim my mate,” I growled.
“Maybe hiding it from her was a mistake,” Anthony said, scratching his head.
“No, it was right. If the cards wanted her to know, they’d have told her. The fates don’t let us control their plans—look at us now.”
Anthony chuckled. “Fake mated to your real mate. Like a damn sitcom, huh?” He glanced at me, hands in his shorts’ pockets. “So, what’s with the extra patrols? The coven’s noticed. They’re nervous about what the packs are up to.”
“What, they think we’re rounding up witches to enslave them?” I snapped.
“Wouldn’t be the first time a pack tried,” he said pointedly.
I sighed. “It’s pack business. All I’ll say is the patrols are for protection. Nothing more.”
Anthony’s eyes brimmed with unasked questions, but he stayed silent, respecting pack law. I couldn’t tell him about the disappearances—entire packs vanishing into the night, no trace, no scent, no reason. Like Paige’s stalker, it was a mystery. Markus had suggested witches might be involved, masking scents as Paige had to escape her pursuer.
I stopped, turning to Anthony. “Wait. Could a scent-masking spell hide multiple people? Make it seem they were never there?”
He nodded after a moment. “Yeah, if the witch is powerful enough. Paige hid her scent for miles. A weaker witch couldn’t manage that. With a potion, she could’ve erased it city-wide, like a ghost to wolves.”
“What about hiding others—multiple people at once?”
“With the right magic and potions, it’s possible, but it’d take a strong witch. In this city, only Ama and Paige have that kind of power. Ama’s slowed down, sticking to pendulum readings and weak love potions. Paige doesn’t even realize how powerful she is.”
We patrolled in silence, my mind racing. Their coven, the city’s largest, descended from ancient curanderas—healers turned “witches” in modern terms. If only Ama and Paige had that power, a rogue witch was likely. But why would a witch target werewolves? They had little use for us beyond flings or rare mateships. Even cursed wolves defied their creators’ control. That left another possibility: a witch aiding someone else—rival packs, maybe, or a chaos-hungry vampire. The options were endless.
“Got time during your patrol?” Anthony asked, breaking the quiet.
“For what?”
“Dad wants to talk about your mateship with Paige. He’s pissed we kept it secret for years. Says you must’ve known when she turned eighteen. Nearly tore my head off when I admitted I knew.”
“What’s he care? Did he want me to snatch her up the second she turned eighteen?”
Anthony shook his head. “He just wants to hear you say you’re not rejecting her. He knows some wolves in your pack hate witches. Doesn’t want Paige in a loveless bond.”
I nodded, understanding. Her father needed assurance I cared, that she’d be happy. At their house, only the light from Mr. Ramirez’s office glowed. We slipped in quietly, avoiding his mother’s notice—she’d derail the conversation.
“Dad,” Anthony said, closing the office door and sitting on the loveseat.
Mr. Ramirez looked up from his book, eyes locking on me. “You came. Good. First test passed. Sit, Nyte.”
I sat across his desk, meeting his gaze. “I’m told you have questions about my intentions with Paige.”
He nodded. “One way of putting it.”
“Ask away. I’ve nothing to hide, and you’ve nothing to fear.”
“How long have you known she’s your mate?”
“Since her eighteenth birthday.”
“Why wait until now to claim her? Just because another wolf threatened what’s yours?”
“Partially,” I admitted. “She asked me to pretend to be her mate. I was waiting for her to claim me when she was ready, but that’s not what happened.”
“She doesn’t know you’re her mate?” he asked, incredulous. “She’s a seer!”
“She had a vision that night she was stalked. It showed her mate as a werewolf, but not his face. She assumed the stalker’s claim was true, that he’s her mate. She thinks she can break fate’s bond.”
Mr. Ramirez slammed his hands on the desk, standing. “Why not tell her the truth?”
“You knew about the stalker,” I countered, unflinching. “Didn’t you know what he claimed?”
“I thought she knew you were her mate and went to you for help. I didn’t know she was clueless about your bond. You’ve sealed it with more than a bite, and she still doesn’t know she’s bound to you for life?”
He sank into his chair, distress twisting his features. “You know fate’s bond is inevitable. Fairy tales of rejection or second chances are just that—tales. I gave her time to see me for who I am, kept her at arm’s length until she was ready. The fates decided I’d waited long enough, leading her to me as her protector, even if they didn’t clarify what kind.”
“Do you love her?” he asked, Anthony leaning forward, equally curious.
I smiled, picturing Paige—her nose wrinkling in sleep, the spark in her eyes when challenged, the pout of her lips before a kiss. “I’ve loved her since I saw who she became, not the girl I met, but the strong woman she grew into after the Academy’s summer program. Bond or no bond.”
Mr. Ramirez’s expression softened. He opened a drawer, revealing a velvet box. “My father-in-law gave me this, said I’d have a daughter and her true love would need it. I don’t know its purpose, but I swore to pass it to the man who holds her heart.”
He handed me the box. Inside was a pointed obsidian pendulum on a coiled chain, radiating ancient magic. “A pendulum?” Anthony asked, peering over my shoulder. “For what?”
“I was never told,” Mr. Ramirez said. “Only that it’s needed for her mate. With the increased patrols, I’m sure Nyte knows what it can uncover.”
I gritted my teeth, nodding. The fates were meddling again, first with Rome’s suggestion to use Paige, now this relic echoing the same. I pocketed the box, its weight burning against me, and stood. “I need to get back to my patrol.”
“Thank you for easing my mind,” Mr. Ramirez said. “I hope whatever my father-in-law foresaw is resolved quickly.”
“We’ll see,” I said, shrugging as I left.
Alone on the cliffs, the pendulum’s presence gnawed at me. I knew its power—a divination tool to answer Paige’s questions and aid the pack. But was she ready? How long could I delay before fate forced my hand again? At the shift change point, I ran my hands through my hair, frustration mounting. “Why does something always derail my plans?”