Page 28 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

Lucas doesn’t flinch. He stands beside me, a fortress of calm fury, but I can feel the storm gathering inside him. We’re not exactly touching, but I swear the heat radiating from his body could burn straight through my sweater.

I don’t bother looking at Blackwood when I speak. I’m watching Ryder instead, because he’s the only one in this room who actually understands what’s at stake.

“We didn’t interfere, and anything that affects the wolf packs along the ring of fire concerns us. We were guardians of this land long before some of our kind splintered off and founded their packs and territories,” I say calmly. “It has always been our way to help those who need it regardless of their pack affiliation. For example, Lucas and I tracked a kill—the senseless death and mutilation of a deer. We followed something we saw running away to a cabin filled with Crimson Claw symbols and a hell of a lot of blood. No bodies, just glyphs burned into the walls and evidence that something unnatural is being enhanced or created.”

“And you think it gives you the right to act as judge and executioner on another pack’s land?” Blackwood fires back.

“They didn’t execute anyone,” said Lucas in my defense. “We invited three of the Windriders to stay here as both Ryder and I believe they may know more about this than we know.” He holds up his hand to hold off the accusation that we’ve been hiding something. “I don’t think they even know what they know… any more than we do.”

I smile. “Lucas is right, and for what it’s worth, I believe this gives the Windriders and the Nightshade Pack the right to not sit on our hands while people go missing,” I shoot back, my voice sharper now. “I know Max Bennett. I fought alongside him a few months back. I gifted him with a talisman we found under a clump of wet leaves. Max knew the significance of my giving it to him; he would never have removed it. Someone left it there. Do you think that’s coincidence?”

Blackwood narrows his eyes. “There’s no proof Max is?—”

“He’s missing,” Ryder cuts in, his voice low but final. The room stills around his words. “Went off-patrol near the Ironclaw border three nights ago. Didn’t report back. His last check-in put him less than ten miles from one of the same marked trees Sophia and her people found.”

That gets everyone’s attention.

Kylie leans against the wall to my left, flipping her knife over her fingers with casual precision. She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t need to. The barely contained energy in her stance says she’s about three seconds from daring Blackwood to draw a line in the sand.

“Is this regional now?” she asks flatly. “Or do we need more bodies before it counts as everyone’s problem?”

Ryder sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not ignoring the signs. But we’re on thin ice politically, and the other elders?—”

“We don’t have time to play nice with the elders,” I say. “Whatever’s behind the Crimson Claw is spreading. These aren’t random attacks anymore. It’s a message. A pattern.”

Lucas speaks again, and his voice is all iron. “They’re escalating. Whoever’s behind this is directing them, maybe even enhancing them. We found signs it’s being done deliberately. Not just Crimson Claw tactics—this is something else.”

Blackwood snorts. “Mutations? What’s next, vampires? Aliens? Shifters from another plane of existence?”

Lucas doesn’t blink. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve seen.”

That shuts Blackwood up for a beat. Then he straightens, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve.

“You’ve made your position clear,” he says to Ryder. “But understand this—your beta and his… guest… are now under direct observation. One more unauthorized excursion, and I’ll make sure the council intervenes.”

With that, he turns and strides out, his entourage trailing behind him like overfed shadows.

Ryder waits until the door shuts before he turns to us, jaw set. “I agree with you. But Lucas, you’re pushing the line. AndSophia—if you get pulled into this politically, I won’t be able to shield you.”

I nod. “I didn’t come here looking for a shield.”

“No,” Ryder says, gaze flicking between us. “But maybe you should start thinking about what it means if you’re not just passing through.”

He walks off without waiting for a response.

Kylie whistles low. “Well, that was a whole pile of fun. I vote we get the hell out of this lodge before someone tries to assign us homework.”

I grab my jacket and meet her by the door. “Shadow Hollow?”

She grins. “God, yes. Let’s go see if we can’t rattle a cage or two.”

The trip to Shadow Hollow takes less than an hour, but the surrounding forest feels older than time. The trees here aren’t just tall—they loom. The air carries the sharp tang of copper and moss, and even the wind feels like it’s got secrets it doesn’t want to share.

Marjorie lives at the edge of Shadow Hollow in a charming little cottage with more wards hanging from the porch than I’ve ever seen in one place. Bones, feathers, twisted bits of silver wire—all humming with latent power. The place crackles with magic, wild and unfiltered.

“I thought I might see you again,” she says, stepping aside. “Must be serious.”

Kylie lifts an eyebrow. “Is it the constant threat of death? The undead forest? Or the fact that something in a lab coat might be birthing monsters in our backyard? Yeah. It’s serious.”

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