Page 24 of Fated Wolf's Destiny

Dorothy straightens, her smile firmly back in place. “I’ll leave you to it. But don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.” She’s gone before I can stop her, leaving behind the pastries and the faint, unsettling echo of what had sounded like a warning.

That evening, I’m back in Arthur’s office, surrounded by his notes. The mess is more organized now, but it’s still overwhelming—scraps of paper, faded photos, half-filled notebooks that seem to follow their own twisted logic.

I sift through some of the non-medical files, jotting down anything that seems relevant. Arthur documented so much, from routine injuries to things that don’t make sense. Animals found in the wild with deep lacerations and no clear explanation, tracks that seem to vanish mid-trail, animals behaving in ways they shouldn’t.

One note catches my eye. It’s scribbled on the back of a flyer for a town fair, the handwriting messier than usual:

Large pawprints near Silver Creek. Too big for local wildlife. Seen twice in the last month. Possibly one of the Crimson Claw?

I freeze, so he knew about the Crimson Claw.

Arthur had theories—wild ones I always brushed off as the eccentricities of a man who spent too much time alone in the woods. But now, looking at the pattern of injuries, the pawprints, the repeated references to something moredangerous lurking beyond the edges of the town, it all feels too deliberate to ignore.

My pulse quickens as I flip through more pages, the pieces starting to come together in a way that makes my stomach churn. Whatever Arthur was chasing, it wasn’t just a wild animal. It was something bigger.

The sound of a low growl pulls me from my thoughts, and I freeze, my heart pounding. It’s faint, coming from outside, but unmistakable.

I grab the flashlight from the desk and make my way to the back door, stepping onto the porch after turning on the lights and using my flashlight to scan the yard and trees. I really need to get a gun—something simple. Something that’s just point and shoot. The night is eerily still as I step outside.

The growl comes again, this time closer. I shine the flashlight into the woods, the beam slicing through the darkness, but there’s nothing there. Just trees and shadows that feel like they’re watching me.

“Hello?” I call, my voice steady despite the chill creeping up my spine.

No response, but the feeling lingers, the sense of being watched pressing against me like a weight.

I retreat back into the clinic, locking the door behind me but leaving the porch lights on. My mind races as I return to Arthur’s notes, my pulse still pounding. Whatever he was looking into, he wasn’t doing it out of intellectual curiosity. There was something troubling Arthur, something he was willing to risk his life for, but what was it?

The night is still, the kind of quiet that is almost suffocating, making every sound sharper. I sit at the clinic desk, surrounded by Arthur’s endless chaos of notes, my fingers aching from hours of sorting through them. Outside, the moonlight spills through the windows, casting faint silver streaks across the room.

I pause, brushing a strand of hair out of my face and leaning back in my chair. My eyes burn from staring at page after page of cryptic scribbles, but it’s not just exhaustion gnawing at me. It’s the sensation crawling up my spine, the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

I glance toward the window again, my pulse quickening as I go to stand beside it. The clinic’s backyard stretches into the woods, nothing but dark silhouettes and the occasional shift of branches in the breeze. I squint, my gaze searching the shadows, but nothing moves.

Shaking my head, I grab the flashlight from the desk. “Get it together, Bella,” I mutter under my breath, but my voice feels too loud in the silent room.

I step onto the porch, the cool night air biting at my skin. The beam of the flashlight slices through the darkness as I scan the yard, my breath puffing out in soft clouds.

“Hello?” I call again, my voice steady even though my heart pounds against my ribs.

The light catches nothing but the gleam of damp grass and the edges of the forest beyond. Yet the feeling lingers, thick and undeniable, like the presence of something just out of reach.

And then I see it—a shadow moving at the edge of the tree line—large, deliberate, unmistakable. The outline of a wolf emerges into the moonlight, its fur gleaming darkly in the moon’s pale light. I freeze, my breath catching as I lock eyes with it. The flashlight shakes slightly in my hand, but I can’t bring myself to move.

It doesn’t growl, doesn’t bare its teeth. It just stands there, watching me, its eyes glowing faintly amber in the dark. There’s something about the way it holds my gaze that sends a shiver down my spine—not fear, not exactly, but something primal.

Refusing to turn my back on the darkness, I retreat to the clinic, my mind racing. Once inside, I lock the door behind me,leaning against it as I catch my breath. I feel a lingering unease, my thoughts spinning faster than I can keep up.

The wolf didn’t feel like a threat. But it didn’t feel like just an animal, either. Could it be a shifter? A member of the Nightshade Pack? Lucas? Ryder? Shadow Hollow has become a mystery wrapped inside an enigma. I’m not sure I’m ready to understand, but it’s not something I can’t let go of.

RYDER

The forest is alive tonight, but not in the way it should be. There’s an edge to the air, something sharp and wrong, the kind of anticipation that sets my inner wolf on high alert. Lucas is a few paces ahead, his movements fluid and deliberate as we move through the trees. The moonlight catches on his face, highlighting the faint crease in his brow. He feels it, too.

“Smell that?” Lucas says, his voice low, a growl riding beneath his words.

“Yeah,” I reply, my jaw tightening. The scent lingers on the wind—sharp and musky, with a bitter edge that makes my wolf snarl. Crimson Claw.

“They’re getting bolder,” Lucas mutters, scanning the shadows. “Too bold.”

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