Page 57 of Fated Wolf's Destiny

Ryder steps aside, letting her take the lead in the conversation. It’s subtle but deliberate. He’s letting her find her footing, even as he stays close enough to step in if needed. Classic Ryder—alpha to the core.

“Well,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, “there’s no sugarcoating it. The birthrate crisis is still a problem. Sure, youshifting the other night gives us hope, but hope doesn’t fill cribs. Maybe you can find something… Arthur trained you…”

Bella’s expression falters for a moment, but she quickly steels herself. “I don’t know how much I can help, but I know I’m willing to try,” she says. “And if Arthur was looking into it, maybe he left notes that will help. I just keep thinking there has to be a solution in everything that’s happened.”

Ryder arches a brow. “Go on.”

I jump in before she can answer. “What she means is she’s not banking on tradition and prophecy. Bella is willing to research the problem. It’s uncharted territory, but it might be the key to saving the pack.”

Bella nods. “I want to get some hard data, but it may be as simple as strengthening and widening the gene pool.”

Ryder’s jaw tightens, his gaze shifting between me and Bella. “You think we should start bringing humans or she-wolves from other packs into the fold?” Ryder shakes his head. “That might be risky.”

“It might be the only way,” she counters.

“Bella isn’t suggesting we throw open the gates and hold an orgy—although that might be fun,” I say. “But we can’t keep shutting ourselves off, pretending we can survive in isolation and outdated traditions. Bella’s proof there’s a middle ground. Her grandmother’s bond might have been ahead of its time.”

Bella nods, her voice soft but resolute. “You’ve said it yourself—times are changing. If the pack doesn’t adapt, we won’t survive.”

Ryder’s silence is telling. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows we’re right. I can see it in the way his hands flex at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he considers the potential impact of what we’re saying.

“It might not hurt to have the Elders’ full support. And the pack. You don’t have to make this decision alone,” I say.

He exhales and shakes his head. “But I do. I am alpha and it is my responsibility to make these kinds of decisions alone.”

I grin. “Since when did you care about doing things alone?”

He glares at me, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Since now.”

Bella steps closer to him, her hand brushing his arm. The gesture is small, but it steadies him. “You’re not alone in this, Ryder. Whatever you decide, Lucas and I will support your decision.”

I watch them for a moment, their connection so palpable it almost makes me look away. Almost. Instead, I let myself hope—just a little—that they might be the start of something bigger than any of us.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” I say, breaking the moment. “We’ve got work to do. Half-shifters, humans, wolves from other packs—whatever it takes, we need to make this work.”

Ryder nods, his expression hardening with determination. “We’ll do what we have to do to ensure the survival of the Nightshade Pack.”

Bella glances back at the mountains, her gaze thoughtful. “And for those who come after us.”

The sun rises higher, casting long shadows across the ground. It feels like a promise, a hint of the light that might come if we’re willing to fight for it. And as I stand with them, my brother and his mate, I know one thing for certain—change is coming. Whether we’re ready for it or not.

The air is sharp with the tang of pine and frost as I lean against the trunk of an ancient cedar, staring out over the misty valleybelow. The moon hangs low in the sky, heavy and full, its light casting silver across the treetops. Somewhere in the distance, a mournful howl splits the quiet. It’s not one of ours. Crimson Claw, maybe. Or something worse.

A crushing weight settles in my chest, my fists clench so tightly that my nails leave a stinging imprint. Ryder and Bella are settling into their roles as a bonded pair, their connection bringing hope back to the Nightshade Pack. And yet, here I am, standing at the edges of our territory, the shadows creeping closer every damn night.

The sound of soft footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. I don’t turn, but my senses sharpen, my wolf stirring restlessly. It’s one of the younger scouts, his scent fresh and nervous.

“Lucas,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve got movement near the north ridge.”

I nod, straightening, my jaw tightening. “How many?”

“Two, maybe three,” he says. “But they’re not Crimson Claw. At least... they don’t smell like it.”

His hesitation sends a flicker of unease through me. “Then what do they smell like?”

“Strangers,” he says, his voice trembling slightly. “Like they don’t belong.”

I curse under my breath, running a hand through my hair. Strangers. That’s the last thing we need right now. With the birthrate crisis still looming and tensions between the packs in the Rainshadow Region fragile at best, new players in our territory could mean anything—none of it good.

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