Chapter 70 – Territory Lines
Ronan
The air is cold and sharp today. The kind of cold that wakes the senses, that makes every shift of wind feel like a whisper carrying someone else’s scent.
We’ve been running the northern edge of Blackthorn for two hours now, and the trail is too clean for my liking. Too quiet after all the activity in the preceding days.
Then I see it. A claw mark carved deep into the trunk of a pine, the sap still bleeding fresh and gold. The edges are deliberately ragged. This wasn’t a lazy stretch from a passing wolf, this is a signature.
I step closer, palm against the grooves and inhale deeply. It’s someone from Redmaw, without a doubt.
The wolf in me shoves against my ribs, all teeth and forward momentum.
I can almost see them in my mind’s eye. A scout with too much confidence and not enough speed, thinking they can leave their stink on my border without consequence.
It would be easy to follow the trail. Hunt it down. Tear it open.
Instead, I roll my shoulders back and force the impulse down. Rage without patience is a luxury I don’t have at the moment. Even if it goes against every natural inclination I possess.
The scent drifts faint and thin toward the east. Toward Silvercrest’s trade routes. Not close enough to cut into them yet, but close enough to be worrisome.
I crouch, running my fingers over a set of tracks in the frost. Heavy. Male. Not alone. There’s a lighter set alongside, maybe half an hour old. Redmaw is still only traveling in pairs.
Behind me, Cade shifts his weight. “That’s the third one this month.”
I grunt. “They’re pushing further in.”
“They’re watching Silvercrest too close for comfort.”
Exactly. And if they’re sniffing around Silvercrest’s supply lines, they’re sniffing around Blackthorn’s purse strings.
The mines keep Silvercrest rich. Silvercrest keeps us well-fed in silver. Without that flow, we lose leverage. Without leverage, we lose control.
I straighten, glancing toward the pale ribbon of road that runs south. No Redmaw tracks crossing it, not yet. But it’s only a matter of time.
“Mark it,” I tell Cade. “Fresh wards. Triple-layered. I want every nose from here to the southern posts to smell this is Blackthorn land.”
He nods, already moving.
The rest of the patrol spreads out, reinforcing markers, checking traps. I pace the perimeter, my focus slipping for just a breath. Not toward the pines or the road, but toward the cabin back home.
Eli.
He’d still be in training about now, probably sniping back at Hazel, maybe letting his stance slip because he’s tired.
And he has been tired. More than usual. He’s been slower the last few days, his eyes shadowed in a way that isn’t just from fucking and sparring.
Something’s been bothering him. I can feel it in the bond, subtle but there, like a quiet pressure at the back of my mind.
But I haven’t asked. Not directly. Heart to hearts have never been my strong suit. Every time I think to push, the words come out wrong.
Too sharp, too demanding, like I’m interrogating him instead of trying to understand.
And maybe part of me doesn’t want to hear the answer.
Because if someone in my pack is the reason he’s holding himself tighter, if someone’s making him second-guess where he stands, I’ll tear them apart, rank or no rank and that will be terrible for morale.
“Your mind’s somewhere else again.”
The voice cuts in low from my right. Mara. She’s like an annoying, sharp-tongued shadow, popping out whenever the sun moves.
She steps out from between the trees, her braid pulled tight, her eyes sharper than the cold.
“I’m here,” I say.
She snorts. “Your body is. Your head’s three miles south.”
“Stop chasing up trouble that doesn’t exist. I’m here.”
“Don’t.” She closes the distance, boots crunching over frost. “You’re walking like you’ve got one ear turned toward the cabin instead of the forest.”
I don’t answer right away. Mara has a way of leaving her words hanging, waiting for you to hang yourself with them.
Finally, I say, “Redmaw’s testing us. That’s where my focus is.”
She tilts her head toward the claw marks. “Then prove it. Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been circling Eli more than you’ve been circling your own borders.”
My jaw tightens. “We’ve already had this conversation Mara. I know the risk Redmaw poses and I’m handling it.”
“I think you’re letting yourself believe you can fight one war at a time.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “You can’t. You keep your Omega close, fine. But you forget the rest of us don’t get to stop and breathe just because you’re… what? Settling down?”
The words hit like a hammer. “I’m not settling down.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” She steps past me, inspecting the claw marks like they’re an afterthought.
“We’ve both seen what happens to Alphas who get comfortable. Redmaw won’t wait for you to pull your head out of your bed.”
The wolf in me bristles, but I don’t snap. Mara’s one of the few I will allow to speak to me like this. Gods know she’s earned it.
“We’re not losing ground,” I tell her.
“Not yet,” she says, and moves on, calling over to Cade about the wards.
I turn my attention back to the tracks, forcing my thoughts into order. Redmaw first. Everything else after.
We finish the circuit along the ridge, doubling back toward the main path. My patrol stays quiet, but I feel Mara’s eyes on me every few minutes, like she’s testing whether I’ll drift again.
I don’t. At least not outwardly. Inside, though, I’m replaying the way Eli had looked last night. The hesitation in his voice. The way his gaze had skated just past mine, like there was something he didn’t want me to see.
By the time we reach the southern post, the light’s going gold through the trees. I give orders to rotate the patrol routes, unpredictability keeps enemies nervous, and leave Cade to see it done.
Mara falls in beside me on the walk back.
“You going to talk to him about whatever’s eating at you?” she asks without looking at me.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
She huffs. “So you’re going to wait until it’s too late.”
I don’t answer.
We reach the outpost where the trail splits. One path leading to the barracks, the other toward my cabin. I take the latter without hesitation.
The wards along this stretch are solid, the air thick with Blackthorn’s scent. But underneath, I catch something faint. A trace I don’t like.
Not Redmaw. Not anyone I can name yet. But it’s new. Out of place.
I stop, scanning the tree line, ears pricked for movement. Nothing but the wind.
Mara catches it too. “We’ll run this line again in the morning.”
I nod, but I’m still standing there when she moves on. The scent lingers, light as smoke and I commit it to memory.
If it’s still here tomorrow, I’ll follow it to the source.
For now, I keep moving. There’s only so much of me to split between borders and the bed I keep longing to go back to.