Page 43 of The Cursed Wolf King

This was Heraclid rule: power through fear, loyalty enforced through pain. I had always known they were brutal, but seeing it with my own eyes was something else entirely. It made my wolf itch to act, even as the man in me knew the risks.

For now, I had to keep moving.

The path out of the fields was a winding one, lined with the occasional wild blackberry bush that had overgrown its space. The Heraclids’ grip on their people was ironclad, and I had no illusions about how I’d be treated if I were caught. The sight of those workers—worn down and broken—stuck with me.

In Orion, we cared for our elders, respected their wisdom, and celebrated the youth as they came into their own. These shifters working the land were barely surviving, their lives drained of any pride or joy. It was a vision of what I swore my pack would never become, and the thought tightened something in my chest.

I glanced back one last time. The boy’s wide eyes were haunting and accusing, as if asking why I hadn’t stepped in.

If I ever can, I told myself,I’ll set this right.

For now, I melted back into the shadows, my wolf restless but silent, carrying me farther into enemy lands.

Movement.

My ears caught it before my eyes did—a faint rustle, too deliberate to be wind. I froze, my senses sharpening as I scanned the shadowed surroundings.

I couldn’t shift here. The faintest whiff of my wolf’s scent would give me away. Besides, I didn’t trust my wolf right now. Not with his blind rage, his volatile need to protect and destroy in equal measure. This was a delicate operation, and my wolf didn’t do delicate.

The rustle came again, to my left this time. As I turned, it shifted to my right. It was as if it was beckoning me, asking me to follow. My hand brushed the hilt of my knife as my eyes darted between the shadows, but still I saw nothing. Imoved toward the sound, the trees giving way to a wide, eerie clearing.

In the center stood a platform, weathered but imposing, raised slightly above the ground. Light filtered through the trees, casting a slivered glow over its surface, illuminating faint carvings in the wood. Symbols. Ritualistic, almost. I took a cautious step closer as I scanned its surface.

And then, the scent.

Eve.

My wolf howled in my chest. My breath caught, my vision blurring as the pull of her essence overwhelmed me.She was here.I couldn’t tell when, but the scent of her was all over the place. My knees buckled, and I stumbled, my hand catching the rough bark of a tree to steady myself. The scent was intoxicating, grounding and dizzying all at once. As if the air itself carried her memory.

I pushed away from the tree, shaking my head to clear it, but before I could take another step, my senses prickled again. I froze, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife at my side as I scanned the perimeter. Then I saw them.

Two wolves crouched low in the brush, their eyes gleaming like fireflies in the darkness. Though I didn’t recognize them, one scent was familiar—the elder who had given me the herbs. Light brown and broad despite her age, her posture was wary but nonthreatening, her tail swaying slightly. My wolf stirred, but even he was reassured.

The other wolf—she was a shadow, pure black, her coat so dark it seemed to shimmer blue. She moved differently, fluid and quick, her body disappearing and reappearing behind the trees as if she were testing me.

Stalking me.

I gripped my knife, my muscles taut as I prepared for anything.

My wolf growled low, his instinct to dominate rising unbidden. But there was something about her, something that unnerved me. She was sly and I felt like a hunter being hunted, my heart pounding as her presence pressed against me.

The light brown wolf stepped forward slightly, her movements deliberate, as though trying to communicate. The black one stayed hidden, circling.

I was cornered, a sitting duck, and I knew it. The vulnerability of being in human form weighed heavy. I forced myself to stand taller, my grip firm on the knife, ready for whatever game they intended to play.

The two wolves exchanged a glance, and their pack bond moved between them, an energy I couldn’t read but recognized.

And then they took off.

The black wolf looked back one last time with a snarl. I could tell whatever bite she had was now more show than threat.

If I was serious about finding Eve, about confronting her with the truth of what she’d done to my pack and ending her, I had to do it quick. I wouldn’t be able to stay hidden in Heraclid lands forever.

It was time to find that deceiving oracle, that poison-tongued imposter.

And rip her throat out.

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