Page 73 of Fated Wolf's Redemption

He doesn’t take my hand. He clasps my wrist, firm, warm, guiding me with a confidence that never pretends to be gentle.

Outside, the grass is slick. The storm left puddles in the gravel path, and the air is damp with leftover rain. Nightshade wolves move through the camp with a strange quiet—like they know the worst is over but haven’t decided what comes next.

I don’t care. Not right now. Lucas and I walk to the edge of the ridge where the trees part, revealing the mountains in the distance. Broken peaks. Collapsed stone. And somewhere beneath it all, what’s left of the gate.

He stands behind me, arms circling my waist, and I lean into him like he’s the center of gravity I never knew I needed.

Thunder rumbles again, low and distant.

“It’s coming back,” I say.

He nods. “It always does.”

“Do we run?”

“No.”

I tilt my head back until I can look at him. “Why not?”

He smiles, slow and sure. “Because now… we are the storm.”

The first drop hits my cheek. Then another. I laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s true.

Lucas steps out first. I follow. The rain falls harder, soaking through our clothes, our hair, our skin. We don’t flinch. We don’t hide. We walk straight into it—together.

And this time, the storm doesn’t chase us, it walks beside us.

CHAPTER 21

MAX

Ismell her before I see her. Not the pine and ozone of Windrider glyph dust. Not the steel-and-ash of battle. Just her—crushed cedar. Burnt sugar. And something sharp underneath, like lightning cut through stormwood.

Kylie.

My jaw clenches as I round the corner of the Ironclaw lodge and find her standing in the middle of the armory. Boots propped on a crate of ammunition, arms crossed over her chest like she owns the place—and like she might blow it up just to make a point.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I growl.

She doesn’t jump. Doesn’t even blink. Just tilts her head, eyes still the same eerie green that used to see through every damn excuse I gave her. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” I stalk toward her, every muscle coiled and ready. “Breaking into Ironclaw territory uninvited?”

She flashes that maddening grin. The one that used to undo me when I was smart enough to fear her and dumb enough to love her, anyway. “Didn’t break in. The scouts on patrol let me through. I told them I was your problem… they believed me.”

“I’ll bet. And you are right; you are a problem, although you made it clear you weren’t mine.” I stop three feet away. Close enough to smell the heat on her skin. Too close. “I’m still waiting for the part where I’m supposed to say thank you.”

She uncrosses her arms and hops down from the crate like we’re back on familiar ground—where we met; where we fought; where she left me. Maybe we are. Maybe we never left it.

“Two things,” she says, ticking them off with her fingers. “One—Ironclaw’s got a rogue signal pulsing off your southern border. Something nasty, glyph-warped and moving like it doesn’t care who’s watching. Two—I’m the only one who’s tracked it and lived.”

“And you came back to warn me out of the goodness of your heart?” I don’t believe it for a second.

“No.” Her voice drops. “I came because whatever this thing is… it used to be Windrider.”

My blood goes cold. Windrider constructs are rare. Illegal. The kind of magic your average glyph caster doesn’t survive. If something like that’s running loose near Ironclaw territory, it means only one thing… we’re not done with the gate.

I rake a hand through my hair and look away, giving myself a breath to process. That’s all I can afford. One breath. Because the second I let her back in, I know how this ends. Same way it did last time.

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