Page 28 of Moon Fated

Fifteen

Evelyn

Iworked to keep my wolf in check as we strode toward the long pole barn sitting back from the main drive. The earthy scent of manure and mulch filled my nostrils with the lush forest looming around us, a reminder of the wildness that ran through our veins. Wolf shifters were creatures of nature, but today, we sought answers from someone who belonged to the earth in a way even we didn't.

"Keep your senses sharp," Rowan murmured, his voice a low rumble beside me. His gaze was on me, I didn’t even have to look. Alpha authority emanated from him like heat from a flame. Blake, surprisingly, didn’t give a snarky response, his own eyes scanning the treeline, muscles tensed.

Rowan went first, pushing open the front door. The wood was weathered but sturdy. Despite growing up in a small town, I hadn’t spent much time around farms. I couldn’t tell if this one was in good condition or if Lyra had let it slip.

A figure emerged from the back office, wiping hands on a dirt-stained apron. He looked up, the surprise at seeing guests apparent in the rise of his bushy eyebrows. His mouth worked a moment before he finally said, "How can I help you?”

It was an excellent question, considering we only had a name to go off of. Was Lyra her real name? Was she hiding here?

“We’re here to see an old friend,” Rowan answered smoothly.

The man in the apron took him in and cleared his throat. “Are you positive you’re in the right place? I'm Carter, the manager here. We don’t have many employees."

Rowan didn’t flinch. “I’m not sure she is an employee. Her name’s Lyra.”

Carter's face immediately brightened. “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place!” He approached with a genuine smile and shook each of our hands in turn. “At first I thought you looked like trouble, but if you’re Lyra’s friends—” He chuckled to himself as he motioned for us to follow. “She’s got connections with the strangest folk.”

I frowned. “Did he just call us strange?” I whispered to Blake.

Blake nodded to Rowan. “Probably referring just to him.”

Rowan shot us an annoyed glance as we trailed behind Carter, our footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor. Rowan moved with a predator's grace, every inch the alpha leader, while Blake's presence was like a silent storm—calm until provoked. My own steps were measured, betraying nothing of my racing thoughts or the nerves that prickled beneath my skin.

The scent of soil and decay spiked as we followed Carter into the main barn. Ghostly white fungi sprouted in deliberate rows, their caps glowing faintly in the dim light. The air was thick with moisture, a palpable presence that clung to my skin and filled my lungs.

I remembered my mother telling me how mushrooms grew. How their spores floated through the air and attached to their hosts—dead and rotting logs, mulch piles. I imagined them filling my lungs and sprouting there in my alveoli.

Rowan nudged my shoulder. “Breathe.”

“I am. That’s the problem.”

He frowned, and I shrugged, trying to ease the tension knotting my shoulders. Rowan’s presence was like the hum of electricity before a storm, impossible to ignore. With each step, my senses stretched taut, keenly attuned to the rhythm of his breath, the subtle shift of his muscles beneath his clothes.

"Careful here." Carter guided us past a low-hanging shelf laden with oyster mushrooms, their delicate frills trembling at our passing. "We try to keep the environment stable for optimal growth."

Every rustle, every drip of water from the overhead pipes, seemed amplified, yet all paled in comparison to the silent symphony that was Rowan Steele. His aura brushed against mine, unseen but as real as the weight of my own body. My wolf stirred within, restless, drawn to his strength, his certainty.

"Quite the operation you have here," Blake said.

"Thank you," Carter replied. "Mushrooms require patience and precision."

Rowan's hand brushed mine briefly as we navigated a narrow turn, sending a jolt through me that left my heart stuttering. It was an accident, surely, but my wolf seized upon the contact, craving more.

Patience and precision. That described my whole life. In my work as an EMT I was the steady force. I was the one giving the orders and responsible for the outcomes of my patients.

To have Rowan there next to me was both terrifying and a relief so powerful it weakened my knees. You don’t have to do this alone. My wolf pushed the thought forward, but I shook my head. I’d tried that once. I’d been a part of a pack, and where had that taken me?

But now I didn’t know what all the patience and precision were for. What did I have to look forward to?

We moved deeper into the farm, the manager's voice a distant drone as he explained the intricacies of mushroom cultivation. I caught the glint of silver first—the cascade of Lyra Moonshadow's hair, stark and luminous against the earthen backdrop of the mushroom farm. It fell in a sleek river down her back as she bent over a tray of shiitake sprouts, her slender fingers working.

"Lyra," Carter called out.

She straightened, turning toward us, her violet eyes catching the dim light like the facets of a gemstone. She didn’t smile.

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