Page 21 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

“It’s not just a threat,” I murmur, fingers tightening around the remnants. “This was deliberate. They wanted someone to find it.”

Oscar kneels beside me. “Do you think it belonged to the scout who went missing?”

“No.” I scan the tree line, heartbeat pulsing hard in my ears. “This one was mine. I gave it to Max Bennett six months ago, when we fought alongside the Ironclaw Pack. I gave it to him before the battle, and later, he said it kept him centered when his wolf was close to snapping.”

“So you told him to keep it?” Oscar asks.

I nod, but say nothing, turning the talisman over in my hands.

“You think he’s dead?” Kylie asks, quiet for once.

I don’t answer. I don’t know how to. The talisman is torn, but it’s not destroyed. The blood dried into its fibers is fresh enough that whoever left it wanted me to know they’d touched it recently. They’re watching. They’re studying us. They’re sending a message.

I rise slowly; the wind brushing against my cheeks, teasing strands of hair across my face. I tuck the talisman into my pocket and look out over the ridge.

“They’re escalating,” I say. “First disappearances, then taunts. Now this.”

Oscar stands beside me, arms crossed. “You think it’s the Crimson Claw?”

Kylie clicks her tongue. “Who else? They’re the only ones freaky enough to make art out of someone else’s pain.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But this doesn’t feel like their usual calling card. This is personal.”

They watch me, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I don’t say what’s clawing at my insides. That I can feel someone moving just outside of sight. Every hair on my arms is standing on end. That my wolf is pacing just beneath my skin, unsettled in a way she never is—not unless he’s near.

Lucas. Damn it.

Even when he’s not here, his presence lingers like smoke. It's not just his scent—cedar, pine and heat—but the echo of his voice, the way he says my name like it’s both a warning and a promise. I can’t get him out of my head. And worse? I’m not sure I want to.

Oscar mutters something under his breath and moves toward the next set of tracks, crouching to examine them. Kylie follows, but I stay rooted where I am, staring at the tree where the claw marks dig deepest into the bark.

My fingers brush against the gash. Deep. Clean. Precise.

Not random. A signature.

I close my eyes for a second, letting the forest speak to me—not through sound, but feeling. My people call it wind-sense, the way the earth and air speak when you’re quiet long enough to hear. Right now, everything hums off-key.

Lucas said something’s broken. He was right. But it’s more than that. It’s fractured. Poisoned.

And I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me the other night, like he could see straight through every defense I’ve ever built. He’s the last wolf I should trust. The last male I should let anywhere near my walls. But I’m not stupid.

Fate doesn’t ask for permission-it drags you along in its wake.

I hate that I’m starting to believe it. Hate that when I imagine him walking out of the trees right now, I don’t brace for a fight—I brace for impact.

“Hey.” Oscar’s voice cuts through the fog. “You okay?”

I nod, turning toward him. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Kylie studies me, eyes sharp. “About the talisman, or the Nightshade’s beta, who keeps pretending he’s not tracking your every move?”

I lift an eyebrow. “You’re imagining things.”

“Mmhm.” She twirls her blade. “And I’m a dainty flower.”

Oscar chuckles. “You can flirt with Nightshade’s beta later. Right now, we need to figure out what this means.”

He’s right. We’ve got missing wolves, mutilated messages, and an entire region acting like denial is a viable strategy.

---