Page 51 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
But he doesn't get a chance to respond.
The fire alarm screams through the silence, cutting through the tension like a blade. For a split second, we just stare at each other—my lips still tingling from his kiss, his hand clenched around my wrist like he’s afraid letting go will mean losing something important.
Then instinct kicks in.
"This isn't over," he shouts as we hustle back to the firehouse.
We take off running, boots pounding against the soft forest floor. Branches claw at my arms, but I don’t slow. Neither does he. We burst from the tree line just as the overhead lights on the firehouse flood the lawn in blinding white. The front bay doors creak open, and firefighters spill into action like a well-oiled machine.
Back into the blaze. Back into the war.
Adrenaline roars in my veins, but so does something else—something deeper and older than duty.
Because whatever this is between us—whatever fate has planned—I know one thing for sure:
This fire isn’t just out there anymore.
It’s in me.
In him.
And it’s about to consume everything we’re trying to protect.
Chapter sixteen
Burning Embers
NOAH
The motel blaze is hotter than expected. Not in scale, but in how stubborn the fire clings to the structure, like it has no intention of dying quietly. Smoke bellows from the cracked windows in angry, coughing gusts, the air thick with melting plastic and scorched wood.
I drag the hose line forward, barking orders to the probies behind me. "Watch your step. That beam's about to go." They adjust, echoing my command with rookie urgency. I check my corners, clearing one room at a time. All clear.
But my thoughts aren’t here—not in this building, not even on this fire. They’re with her.
I sent Sera on the second truck on purpose. After what just happened in the woods, we need space. I need space.
Last night shook me, more than I’ll admit to anyone but myself. If she’s going to lie to me—if she’s still meeting with god-knows-who in dark SUVs and dodging every real question—I need some damn clarity before I let myself get swallowed whole by whatever bond is growing between us.
The second truck arrives in a plume of red and gold lights. I see her immediately. Even in full turnout gear, helmet on and soot-streaked, my wolf recognizes her in an instant. My body reacts like it’s been deprived of oxygen.
And then I see Marcus.
He reaches for her arm to help her down. Says something that makes her laugh. I can’t hear it from here, but her magical smile hits me in the chest anyway.
Too close, Marcus. Too damn close.
I don’t say it out loud, but my wolf growls the words like a warning drum in my ribcage. I force myself to look away, to keep working, keep leading. We’ve got three probies on this scene and an entire structure threatening collapse.
But then—movement. Subtle. Just at the edge of vision.
Two figures stand at the tree line.
Too tall to be hikers. Too still to be normal. Even from this distance, my senses prickle—sharp with fur and menace. Werewolves.
Are they watching? Waiting? Escaping? Were they the ones who started this fire?
I move to the edge of the scene for a better look, but a support beam groans above us, splitting with a crack like thunder. One of the probies stumbles, distracted by the sound. “Focus!” I shout, lunging back into motion. “Everyone out, now!”
