Page 35 of Fated Wolf's Destiny

The wind rustles the leaves, but there’s no response. My pulse races as I stand frozen on the porch, torn between unease and a strange, inexplicable comfort. He’s watching me—why? To protect me? To keep me from digging too deep? Or something else entirely?

I shake my head, forcing myself to step back inside. I can’t afford to get distracted by Ryder, no matter how magnetic his presence is. There are bigger things at play here, and I need answers.

Back at my desk, I pull out a fresh sheet of paper and start mapping out the connections again. My handwriting is messy, rushed, but I don’t care. I draw circles around key terms?—

mutants, hybrids, chemical compound, Arthur’s death

—and start linking them with frantic lines.

Arthur’s work wasn’t random. Every piece of it leads somewhere, and I’m close to finding the pattern. I can feel it, even as doubt creeps in, whispering that I’m chasing something impossible.

But I can’t stop.

I glance toward the window, the memory of Ryder’s silhouette in the moonlight still fresh in my mind. Whatever Arthur was trying to uncover, whatever cost him his life, it’s not staying buried. Not if I have anything to say about it.

The shadows outside seem to deepen as I write, the night pressing against the glass. But instead of fear, all I feel is resolve. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

RYDER

I return to the clinic, the shadows clinging to me like a second skin as I stand just beyond the tree line, hidden in the dark. From here, I can see the soft glow of light spilling through the windows, casting faint shapes of movement as Bella paces inside. She’s focused, her movements quick and sharp, her head bent over the desk like she’s trying to solve the world’s hardest puzzle.

I remain aloof, apart. I tell myself it’s better this way—keeping my distance, staying out of her orbit. But the pull to her is relentless, a magnetic force that defies all reason. It’s not just her stubbornness or the fire in her eyes when she’s challenging me, though those don’t make it any easier to stay away. It’s her vulnerability, the way she dives headfirst into danger without realizing how close she is to the edge.

My wolf growls low in my chest, restless and agitated, the instinct to protect her warring with the voice in my head that reminds me why I can’t. She’s not mine to protect… not yet.

The wind shifts, carrying her scent to me—warm, earthy, with that faint wild edge I can’t ignore. It stirs something primal in me, something I can’t fully suppress, no matter how hard I try.

Inside, she pauses by the window, her shadow cast against the glass. She looks out into the night, her expression thoughtful but guarded, like she knows someone—or something—is out here.

I wonder if she can feel me watching. Maybe. I take a step back, deeper into the shadows, my body tensing as I force myself to turn away. The forest swallows me whole as I move through the trees, the moonlight filtering through the canopy in broken patches. The quiet here should calm me, but it doesn’t. My thoughts are too loud, too tangled, Bella’s face etched into every corner of my mind.

I stop near a clearing, leaning against a tree as I try to steady my breathing. The air is bracing, but it does little to clear my head. Perhaps I should’ve driven her out of Shadow Hollow the moment she arrived. But that moment has passed. She will never leave Shadow Hollow now—I won’t let her.

I run a hand through my hair, my wolf growling softly as I pace the edge of the clearing. My duty is to the pack, but it is also to her. Protect. Defend—her and the pack. I can’t leave either to fend for themselves or walk away and let the Crimson Claw, or worse, have her.

Arthur’s notes keep playing in my mind, the scribbled theories about hybrids and bloodlines tying her to the pack in ways she doesn’t fully understand. She isn’t going to let this go any more than Arthur did. I should tell her to stop—I have told her to stop—but she won’t. She’s not the kind of woman who backs down. The realization settles over me like a dark shroud. I have no choice. She is my mate, and I will protect her, even if it means risking everything.

A sound in the distance pulls me from my thoughts—a faint rustle, barely audible, but enough to set my instincts on edge. My wolf rises, my senses sharpening as I scan the shadows. I glance back toward the direction of the clinic, my chest tightening. Bella’s stubborn, but she’s not reckless. She doesn’t realize how dangerous things are, how close the Crimson Claw is getting. Hell, she doesn’t even know what the mutants are—not really. She’s putting the pieces of the puzzle together, but not knowing didn’t keep Arthur safe, and it could get Bella killed.

CHAPTER 13

ISABELLA

The knock on the clinic door pulls me from the tangled web of Arthur’s notes scattered across the desk. The sound is sharp, firm, and immediately sets my nerves on edge. I glance at the clock—late, as usual—and wonder who’s decided to visit now.

“Coming!” I call, closing the notebook in front of me and pushing my chair back.

When I open the door, Sheriff Barnes is standing there, his expression as stoic as ever. His broad shoulders practically fill the doorway, and he’s holding a notepad in one hand, his other resting casually on his belt.

“Sheriff,” I say, surprised. “What brings you by at this hour?”

“Got some new information,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Thought you’d want to hear it sooner rather than later.”

He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his boots thudding against the floor as he scans the room. His gaze briefly lands on the cluttered desk, and I see the faintest flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

I close the door behind him, crossing my arms. “What kind of information?”

He holds up the notepad, flipping it open to a page covered in his blocky handwriting. “I got a report from a witness today.”

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