Page 24 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

“Try to keep up, Stone.”

He grins—not the charming kind. The kind that promises we’re not stopping until something bleeds.

In one smooth motion, Lucas strips out of his clothing—unbothered by his nudity—stuffing his clothing into a duffle bag he had with him. A low growl vibrates in Lucas’s chest, and then the surrounding air crackles. Mist curls at his feet, swirling upward in threads of lightning and shards of deep, storm-lit color. Thunder rolls low through the trees, not from the sky—but from him. The mist surges, swallowing him whole in a sudden flash, and when it clears, the man is gone.

In his place stands a massive wolf—dark gray, broad-shouldered, his eyes sharp and burning gold. Power hums off him, quiet and coiled, the forest seeming to bend around his presence. My heart stutters in my chest. He’s beautiful. And dangerous. And mine, whether or not I want to admit it.

I drop, kick off my boots and remove my clothing, stuffing it into the bag as well before calling on the storm in my blood. The wind wraps around me like a promise, and I let go.

The shift hits me hard—like falling into lightning. The wind rises around me as the storm inside answers my call. Mist coilsat my feet, laced with lightning, and flickers of silver and violet. It wraps around me, a living current, and then thunder splits the air. When the mist dissolves, I’m no longer standing on two feet.

I’m a wolf. Four paws grounded to the earth, muscles primed, silver coat gleaming under the moonlight. Ready.

Lucas howls once, short and sharp. A command. I answer with a growl, already surging forward, my wolf aching to hunt. He picks up the bag, holding it in his teeth, and takes off. We move fast, weaving through trees like we’ve done it together a hundred times. No words. No second-guessing. Just instinct. Just chase.

The scent trail is thick and twisted, laced with rot and something chemical. Not natural. Not right. Lucas leads, moving fluidly and aggressively, cutting through the underbrush as if born to do so. I run beside him, our wolves synced in pace, breath, purpose.

A shadow darts ahead—too fast for a normal shifter. It moves like it doesn’t obey the same rules of physics we do. I catch a flash of crimson eyes through the fog.

We found it. Or maybe… it wanted us to.

I give chase, picking up speed, Lucas matching me stride for stride. Somewhere inside me, buried beneath the adrenaline and sharp pine air, a thought flickers like fire licking dry tinder: whatever this is, it may only be beginning.

CHAPTER 7

LUCAS

The ground tears beneath my paws as I run, every stride a promise. The silver flash beside me is Sophia—quick, fearless, all instinct and muscle. The thing we’re chasing darts ahead, a blur of movement too fast, too wrong. It doesn’t smell like anything natural. Chemical rot, bile, scorched fur. It’s not just a mutant. It’s something else entirely.

We push harder, breath syncing, the woods falling away behind us. The scent trail leads us up a narrow ridge and down again, slicing through a hollow where the earth is dark and waterlogged. The path veers toward a place I’d hoped I’d never need to see again—the cabin.

It slouches in the trees like it’s rotting from the inside out—just the way we left it after Ryder, Isabella, and I fought those mutated freaks from Crimson Claw. I slow near the tree line, watching the shadows coil around the sagging roof. The scent we’ve been following thickens here, clinging to the ground and walls like mold.

I drop the bag and step into the clearing, signaling Sophia to circle left. She flanks me immediately, silent and sharp. When I’m sure there’s nothing lying in wait to ambush us, I let the power rise through me. The wind picks up, mist swirling at myfeet. Lightning crackles through it as it climbs up my body and then thunder rolls deep in my chest.

When the mist clears, I’m standing in human form, naked but grounded. I pull on the boots, jeans and shirt I packed and sling the duffle over my shoulder as Sophia shifts beside me.

Mist coils tight around her, streaked with violet and silver. Thunder hums low as her form vanishes into the stormlight. When it clears, she stands—naked, breathtaking, and utterly unbothered by it.

“Staring’s a good way to get surprised,” she says, plucking her clothes from the bag and tugging on a slouchy sweater.

“Hard not to look when you practically dare me to,” I mutter, dragging my gaze back to the cabin.

“Consider it a stress test,” she says, pulling on the rest of her clothes. “You failed.”

I almost grin, but the stench of blood and sulfur curdles in my nostrils. I push open the splintered door. Inside, it’s worse than I remember. We step inside. The place is cold, darker than it should be. Sophia slams the door shut behind us, and the sound echoes through the dead space like a gunshot. The fireplace is empty, but soot stains the walls like something burned too hot, too fast. Blood is everywhere. Spattered across the floorboards, smeared on the wall. But no bodies.

“No bodies,” Sophia says aloud, echoing my thought. She steps inside, eyes scanning, careful not to touch anything. “They bled out fast. And not from natural wounds. Look at the spray patterns—arterial.”

“Do I even want to know how you know that?”

She grins. “Probably not.”

I nod, crouching near the hearth. Something heavy landed on the stone beneath it, cracking it. Or something fought to stay down.

The walls are worse. Symbols cover the cabin's interior, drawn in long, jagged strokes. Some in ash, others in blood that’s turned rust-brown with time. But some are fresher. Still tacky. They weren’t here the last time I was.

Sophia walks toward the far wall, lips parting. “I know these.”

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