Page 13 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

Beside me, Kylie mutters under her breath, "This should be fun."

Lucas doesn’t waste time. He moves straight toward me, dodging tables and chairs with predatory ease, stopping just close enough that I have to tip my chin up to meet his gaze.

"We need to talk," he says, voice low.

I cross my arms, letting my expression stay neutral, even though my pulse picks up like it has no damn sense. "That’sfunny. Last time I saw you, you were walking away from me like your life depended on it."

Kylie snickers behind me, but Lucas doesn’t take the bait. His gaze flicks to her and Oscar, then back to me. "Outside. Now."

I narrow my eyes, but before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his demands, Marjorie clears her throat loudly from behind the counter.

"Not in my café, Lucas," she warns, giving him the kind of look only a woman who’s been dealing with difficult men her whole life can pull off.

Lucas doesn’t even glance her way. "Outside, Sophia."

Something in his tone—something that tells me he’s not here to pick another fight, no matter how much we seem to enjoy them—makes me reconsider snapping at him.

Instead, I sigh dramatically, shooting Kylie a quick look before stepping away from the table. "Fine," I say, brushing past him. "But if this is some kind of a weak attempt at an apology, you can save your breath."

The door swings shut behind us, and Lucas guides me to the town square—complete with gazebo and decorative vintage streetlights on each corner—cutting off the noise of the café, leaving only the quiet of the square itself.

Lucas doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at me, his wolf just under the surface, watching, waiting. Finally, he says, "We’ve got a problem."

I huff a laugh. "Just one? Because I’ve got about ten, and at least four of them involve you."

His jaw tightens, but instead of rising to the bait like I half expect, he says, "Your people found something. Claw marks that don’t belong to any known pack. Am I right?"

I go still.

"How do you know that?"

His golden eyes darken slightly. "Because we found the same thing near the north ridge. Arthur Whitfield found the first ones, and we thought we’d beat them back, but now we’ve got missing wolves from more than one pack."

Something stirs in my chest, an uneasy realization settling in. The council might pretend they have things under control, but Lucas and I both know the truth. No one is safe.

He watches my expression closely, reading me too easily, and I hate I know he’s right. "We need to scout the area together," he says, stepping closer. "My brother and our men have their hands full, keeping our own pack safe. You can fight me on this, or you can admit that those of you your father left behind will not get the answers on their own."

My fingers twitch, my warped sense of humor and self-preservation both beg me to push back just for the sake of doing it. But what do they know?

Instead, I meet his gaze evenly. "Fine. But let’s get one thing straight, Stone—I don’t take orders from you."

His mouth twitches—like he’s holding back a grin. Then, he leans in slightly, his voice a quiet rumble of challenge. "We’ll see about that."

Lucas shakes his head, turning away and stalks off. Damn him. Damn me. Because for some insane reason, I’m looking forward to finding out what happens next.

CHAPTER 4

LUCAS

By the time the sun dips below the ridgeline, I’ve had just about enough of everything.

Sophia. The Windriders. The council’s useless, hollow reassurances. The fact that my own damn wolf won’t shut up about something I don’t even want to think about, much less act on. Well, I do want to act on it, but fucking Sophia McKenna wouldn’t solve a thing and would create a whole other set of problems.

Storming out of the lodge, I slam the door behind me, needing space, needing air, and ignoring my older brother. Bad enough to ignore family, but he’s alpha of The Nightshade Pack and gets pissy when he gets ignored. The lodge is the pack’s headquarters. It’s a massive timber and stone structure nestled into the mountain, and has always been and felt like home. Right now, it just feels like a goddamn prison.

I hear Ryder following me out onto the porch and calling to me. "Don’t go too far," he warns anyway, his voice even. "Whatever’s out there—it’s getting bolder."

What am I? Twelve? I don’t bother responding. My boots pad over damp earth as I make my way toward the tree line, stripping off my shirt and tossing it over a low-hanging branch.My boots and jeans follow, kicked aside as the cool mountain air prickles over my bare skin.

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