Page 2 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

A howl rises from the distance. Not one of ours—wolves from the Nightshade Pack. I tense instinctively, my body coiled, my senses stretching beyond the reach of sight. My father lays a steady hand on my shoulder, his grip firm.

"There’s more to this place than we know." His voice is quiet, filled with something I don’t understand. "And more to the wolves who rule it."

I don’t respond. The Nightshade Pack is one of the oldest in the region. Powerful, territorial, deeply rooted in tradition. Unlike the Windriders, they belong to this land. Their history is etched in the soil and the peaks that rise above it, but that doesn’t mean they will welcome us.

Another howl echoes through the night, closer this time. My wolf stirs beneath my skin, sensing something in the air, something just beyond reach.

My father takes a slow breath. "This is where we stay, for now."

I say nothing, but my pulse thrums in my throat. Our kind don’t settle. We don’t belong to any one place. We follow the wind, and we move on.

Not this time. Not here.

Something waits in these mountains. Something we are meant to find. And for the first time, I wonder if it is not the land itself calling to us—but someone within it.

LUCAS

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 perhaps 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.

“Where’s Ryder?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intend.

“Still at the lodge. He and Bella…”

“Got it,” I cut him off, not needing to hear the rest. Ryder deserves his moment of peace, especially after everything he and Bella went through to get here. But peace is a luxury we can’t afford right now.

“Stay here,” I tell him, already moving. “If they get closer, signal the others. I’ll check it out.”

“Lucas…” he starts, but I’m already gone, slipping into the shadows of the forest.

The north ridge is quiet when I arrive. Too quiet. There’s a distinct buzzing in my head and I lean against a tree, trying to get my bearings. Something has sent my internal senses into a tailspin. I slow my pace, my wolf on edge as I scan the area.

Then I see them.

Three figures stand at the edge of the ridge, silhouetted against the moonlight. They’re too far to make out their features, but their posture—upright and alert—and their scent tells me one thing.

They’re shifters.

“Who the hell are you?” I mutter under my breath, stepping closer but careful to stay in the cover of the trees.

One of them turns, her gaze sweeping the forest as if she can feel me watching. The buzzing in my head intensifies and is disorienting. My wolf bristles, a growl threatening to rise in my throat, but I swallow it down. I crouch lower, letting the shadows cloak me.

“We don’t have time for this,” the tallest of the figures says, his voice carrying easily in the chilly night air. The voice is deep and commanding, with an edge of irritation. “If the Nightshade wolves find us in their territory…”

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