Page 3 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

“They already have,” I say, stepping out of the shadows before I can think better of it.

The figures whirl toward me, their movements sharp and precise. Not Crimson Claw, but shifters. I can feel it in the way their energy hums against mine, their presence setting my instincts on high alert, especially the female.

The woman steps forward, signaling the other two to leave her and return to wherever the hell they came from. “You must be Lucas.”

Her words hit me like a blow, my wolf snarling at the familiarity in her tone. “And you are?”

“Just passing through,” she says, though the way she holds herself suggests otherwise. “We mean you no harm.”

I take a step closer, my muscles tensed, ready for a fight. “If you meant us no harm, you wouldn’t be creeping around in our territory without an invitation. Start talking, or I’ll...”

“Relax,” she soothes, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “We’ll just move on. We were only searching for answers. We thought we might be able to help.”

“Help?” I snort. “You don’t belong here. This is Nightshade territory.”

“Exactly,” she says, a sly smile creeping across her face. “And if you want to save it, you may find you need our help more than you’d like.”

My blood runs cold at her words, my wolf snarling louder in the back of my mind. “Save it from what?”

The woman’s smile fades, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something in her eyes—fear. She turns away and calls back over her shoulder, “From what’s coming.”

The weight of her words settles over me, heavier than the silence that follows as she walks away. My heart pounds, my wolf restless as I stare after her, the sense of foreboding tightening like a noose around my neck.

CHAPTER 1

SOPHIA

The fire burns low, casting flickering light over the damp earth. The scent of pine and wet bark lingers in the air, mixing with the remnants of the stew Oscar made earlier. We’ve settled in for the night, but the energy in the camp is anything but restful.

Kylie leans against a moss-covered log, idly sharpening her blade. Oscar stands near the fire, arms crossed, watching me the way he does when he expects me to say something reckless.

"Well?" he finally asks, his voice even. "Did Nightshade’s beta try to rip your throat out?"

I sip from my tin mug, the tea still hot enough to warm my hands. "No," I say, tilting my head. "He just glared at me like he was deciding whether to throw me off the ridge or let me keep talking."

Kylie grins. "And which did he choose?"

I shrug. "Jury’s still out."

Oscar scrubs a hand down his face. "Sophia, this isn’t a game. If we don’t get these wolves to listen, none of us will have a future to fight for."

"I know that," I snap, setting my mug down a little harder than necessary. "But you know as well as I do that the settledpacks don’t think like we do. They don’t trust outsiders, and they sure as hell don’t change their traditions just because someone tells them to."

Oscar exhales sharply, turning his gaze toward the darkness beyond the firelight. "Then we make them listen. Find a way."

Kylie snorts. "Easier said than done. You saw those wolves tonight. They’re locked in their ways, and Lucas Stone might be the worst of them."

The name alone sends a prickle of awareness across my skin. Lucas.

Golden eyes like wildfire, broad shoulders rigid with authority, a voice rough and edged with command. ‘You don’t belong here,’ he’d said it like it was absolute fact, as if the Windriders were nothing more than wanderers passing through his carefully protected world.

I roll my shoulders back, irritation crawling up my spine. "He’s stubborn," I admit. "But he’s not an idiot. He knows something’s wrong. I saw it in his face when I mentioned the birthrate decline."

Oscar frowns, his brow furrowing. "So he’s aware?"

"He suspects. They all do. They just won’t admit it because it means facing the fact that the old ways aren’t working anymore." I glance toward the edge of camp, where the forest presses in like silent sentries. "But this isn’t just a problem for them. It’s everywhere. Packs are losing something fundamental, and no one can figure out why."

Kylie flips her knife in her palm, watching the firelight catch along the sharp edge. "You really think it’s tied to the land?"

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