Page 56 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

She pulls back, eyes fierce. “We’re here.”

I grab her wrist, grounding myself with her pulse. “You felt it?”

“Enough to know it was trying to pull you apart. Don’t let it.”

I nod once. My voice doesn’t come easily, but I manage two words. “Thank you.”

We move again. Slower now. The air’s thicker, the wind heavier. Even the birds are gone. Dead silence hugs the upperslope, and the sky darkens unnaturally overhead as we reach the entrance carved into the mountainside.

They didn’t just build the facility into the rock—they grew it from the rock. Stone walls ripple with barely restrained glyph lines, each one feeding into the next like a living network of magic veins. Something tore open the entrance, creating a jagged oval that is too tall and too narrow. Oscar and the other Nightshade scout who accompanied us peel off to sweep the perimeter. Max and Kylie close ranks.

“I don’t like this,” Max says quietly, shaking his head as if to dispel something. “Feels like we’re walking into a gaping mouth with razor-like teeth.”

“Whoa. Descriptive much?” Kylie quips, tightening her grip on her knife. “Then let’s make sure it chokes on whatever it thinks to eat.”

The terrain turns brutal as we approach the entrance. Stone and ash underfoot, no grass, no moss, not even the stubborn alpine shrubs that usually cling to the bones of these mountains. Just a long stretch of jagged black rock, brittle as charred bone, steep enough to snap ankles and swallow knees. Every step is a calculated risk. One wrong move and we’re tumbling through a graveyard that predates names.

Max takes point, silent and watchful. His breathing is steady, but his body reads like a man walking into his own execution. Sophia and Kylie move just behind him, low and deliberate, blades out. I stay near the rear. Watching for anything that might come from behind. Listening for what I hope doesn’t come again.

But it does.

The sound starts as a pulse, deep in my chest. Like a war drum being played beneath the earth. Faint at first. Then louder. Then personal. It slides behind my ribs and slams into my spinewith enough force to make my jaw lock. I stagger, just a little. No one sees.

Except her.

Sophia glances back, stops mid-step, and turns. Her braid’s half-loose from the climb, a streak of dirt across her cheek, but her eyes are sharper than any weapon we brought with us.

"Lucas." Just my name, but it’s enough.

I open my mouth to answer, to say I’m fine, but the words don’t come. The call gets louder. Not words. Not even sound. Justpressure. Like I’m being pulled forward by a leash wrapped around my spine.

My hands curl into fists. The rock beneath my boots ripples. No one else sees it. No one else hears the sound beneath the sound.

Except her. Sophie reaches me quickly, one hand going to my chest. The other wraps around the back of my neck. Her forehead presses to mine.

"Lucas," she says again, firmer. "You’re not down there. You’re here. With us. Withme."

I grit my teeth, but the pounding doesn’t stop. My wolf snarls inside me, desperate to follow, desperate to run straight into whatever wants to tear me apart.

Then she kisses me. It’s not soft. It’s not for comfort. It’s a strike. A jolt. Storm to storm. The contact is electric and immediate. My lungs catch. My pulse slams back into sync with hers. The wind kicks up around us, sharp and biting, and for a breathless second, everything else falls silent.

She pulls back only far enough to look at me. "We’re here. Stayhere."

And just like that, I can.

Max looks over his shoulder, expression unreadable. Kylie says nothing, but grins in her most infuriating manner.

We keep moving.

The last half mile is hell. The incline is nearly vertical in places, and the rock here isn’t natural. Someone etched glyphs into the surface—burning them into the stone with a precision that screams of old power. Spirals arrange some glyphs, landslides half-cover others, and some still glow faintly with heat as if recently marked.

Kylie stops to run her fingers along a jagged spiral cut into the wall. Her voice is tight. "This isn’t just a base. It’s a ritual site."

I nod. "The gate is near."

No one argues.

The entrance to the compound doesn’t look like much. Just a jagged tear in the rock, hidden behind a series of broken spires that must’ve once been a barrier wall. We move single file, weapons out, senses high. The air inside is colder. Wet. Something drips in the distance. Not water. Too thick.

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