Page 45 of Fated Wolf's Destiny

Lucas sighs, glancing at Ryder, who hasn’t moved. The caring lover I was with earlier has retreated into the brooding alpha.

“We’re not saying stay in the dark,” Lucas says gently. “We’re saying tread carefully. You’ve already seen how messy this can get.”

“I don’t care how messy it gets,” I say, straightening and looking Ryder dead in the eye. “I’m not going to let fear—or your damn rules—stop me from finding justice for Arthur.”

Ryder’s gaze finally meets mine, and the intensity in his dark eyes sends a shiver down my spine. “You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he says, his voice low and deep. “The pack’s traditions, the Crimson Claw, your wolf side—they’re all connected, and they’re dangerous. It’s bigger than you realize. We’re only beginning to figure out how much bigger”

“Then talk to me,” I challenge, stepping closer. “If it’s so dangerous, if I’m so at risk, then why not help me instead of standing in my way?”

He doesn’t answer, his refusal to answer stretching between us like a chasm. Ryder’s expression hardens, and I wonder if he’s going to argue. But instead, he turns toward the window, his jaw clenched, his shoulders stiff.

Lucas shifts, drawing my attention. “Bella,” he says carefully, his voice laced with warning, “this isn’t just about Arthur,Crimson Claw, your grandmother or even the pack. You’re connected to all of it.”

“I understand that,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Arthur was important to me. He had a great deal to do with the person—the vet—I’ve become. I came back here because no one would tell me the truth. And now, I find out I’m not the only one who thought the whole heart attack as his cause of death was bullshit.”

Lucas looks like he wants to say more, but Ryder cuts him off. “She’s made up her mind,” he says, his tone clipped. “Nothing we can say is going to change that.”

I glare at him, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “You think I’ll back down just because you tell me how dangerous this is or because I have feelings for you?”

“You have feelings for him?”

“Shut up, Lucas,” Ryder and I say simultaneously.

Ryder’s eyes flash. I can see his wolf side flickering just beneath the surface. I wonder if he might explode, but he takes a deep breath, his gaze cooling even as the energy between us crackles.

“Then you’d better be ready for what comes next,” he says quietly, his voice heavy with meaning.

“I am,” I say, lifting my chin. “The question is—are you?”

The silence that follows is thick, oppressive, but I hold his gaze, refusing to back down. Lucas shifts uncomfortably, but Ryder stays perfectly still, his expression a mask of stone.

Finally, Ryder turns and walks toward the door, his movements deliberate. He pauses just before stepping out, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“I will keep you safe, Bella, regardless of what you think,” he says without looking back.

Lucas starts to say something, thinks better of it and follows his brother. I turn back to my desk, to Arthur’s notes, and the puzzle still waiting to be solved.

CHAPTER 17

ISABELLA

The bell above the door jingles as I push into the Moonlight Café, the enticing aroma of smoked meats, soups, and fresh coffee hitting me like a comforting embrace. The air inside is cozy, filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clatter of plates being set on tables. It’s a stark contrast to the chill outside, where my breath fogged the air as I hustled between errands.

Marjorie looks up from behind the counter, her sharp eyes softening when she spots me. “Well, look who’s finally taking a break,” she says, her voice cheerful but tinged with its usual playful bite.

I smile as I approach the counter, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “If you call lunch a break. I’ve been running around all morning picking up supplies for the clinic.”

“Supplies can wait,” Marjorie says, pouring a steaming cup of coffee and sliding it toward me. “Sit. Eat. You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the cup and heading to one of the small corner tables by the window. From here, I can see the town’s main street, quiet but alive with small movements—Gusat the garage wiping his hands on a rag, Dorothy sweeping the steps of the bakery across the street.

I sink into the chair with a sigh, the warmth of the coffee seeping into my hands. The morning’s errands have left me chilly and tense, my mind racing with a list of things still left to do at the clinic. But for now, I let myself relax, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

Marjorie bustles over a moment later, a plate balanced in her hands. “Patty melt with beer batter onion rings,” she says, setting it down in front of me. “And don’t even think about paying—it’s on the house.”

I blink up at her. “Marjorie, you don’t have to...”

“I know I don’t,” she interrupts, waving a hand dismissively. “But Arthur was a friend, and I want to make sure you’re keeping up his work. You’re doing good things at that clinic, Bella. The least I can do is feed you.”

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