Page 11 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

I sit on a fallen log near our camp, rubbing my temples as Kylie pokes at the fire with a stick. The embers glow orange and red, sending small sparks into the night. My father and the rest of the pack have moved on, leaving Oscar, Kylie and I to try to see what we can find out that might be helpful in figuring out whatever the hell is going on.

"You look like someone just insulted your entire bloodline," Kylie observes, glancing at me from beneath dark lashes.

I shoot her a glare that promises pain. "I don’t want to talk about it."

Kylie’s lips twitch, but she wisely keeps whatever teasing remark she’s dying to say to herself.

Oscar isn’t nearly as considerate. "You disappeared for a while earlier. Went off into the woods. Came back looking like you ran through a storm."

I pick up a small rock and throw it at him. He dodges easily, grinning.

"So, are we pretending nothing happened, or are we going to admit you got into it with a certain grumpy Nightshade wolf?"

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

Kylie leans forward, intrigued. "Define ‘got into it.’"

Oscar stretches, looking smug as hell. "Let’s just say Sophia has a look about her. Like she’s either extremely pissed off or extremely…" He gestures vaguely with his hands.

"Shut up, Oscar."

He laughs, but his expression sharpens. "If you’re getting tangled up with Lucas, that’s not just a mistake—it’s a distraction. We’re here to figure out this birthrate crisis, not play dominance games with the Nightshade beta."

I grit my teeth, pushing to my feet. "I know exactly why we’re here. Which is why I’m going to do what I set out to do instead of sitting around gossiping like a bunch of elders who have nothing better to do."

Oscar looks at me. "And where exactly are you going?"

"To check out the latest missing wolf report. A Nightshade tracker vanished three nights ago. And I don’t think it’s just random."

Kylie straightens. "Wait, three nights ago? That’s the same day your father moved the pack after that Windrider scout disappeared near the southern pass."

My stomach twists. That’s not a coincidence.

I grab my gear and head toward the eastern ridge, Oscar and Kylie falling into step behind me. The forest is alive with the hum of nocturnal creatures, but beneath that, there’s something off. The wind carries a scent that doesn’t belong—faint, metallic, laced with something sharp and unnatural.

Kylie stiffens. "Tell me you smell that."

Oscar scans the trees, his eyes shifting slightly, his wolf close to the surface. "Blood mixed with something else."

We move quickly, following the scent until we come across a disturbance in the undergrowth. Broken branches, claw marks along the trunks. Signs of a struggle—in the middle of it, a smear of red in a gross representation of claw marks across the bark.

Kylie crouches, running her fingers over the dried markings. "These aren’t normal claw marks. Look at the color."

Oscar kneels beside her, his jaw tightening. "That’s not natural. That’s…"

"Not from any pack we know," I finish, my pulse kicking up.

The marks aren’t just red—they’re unnaturally bright, like something tainted with something—magic, maybe?

This isn’t just about missing wolves anymore. This is something much, much worse. And when I tell him, I’m pretty damn sure Lucas Stone will not like it.

The unnatural claw marks stretch across the bark in jagged slashes, the blood dried to an eerie, almost glowing shade of crimson. Everything about this feels wrong. Not just the scent of old blood or the lingering traces of something off in the air—it’s the way the forest itself seems to hold its breath around the scene.

Oscar runs his fingers along one of the deeper grooves in the wood, frowning. "These aren’t normal attack marks."

Kylie crouches beside him, scraping a bit of the dried blood onto a cloth. "You’re telling me. No wolf’s claws are like this."

I narrow my eyes. "No shit. I think we can all agree this is the mark of the Crimson Claw—thus the name."

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