Page 102 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
But even more than that… I won’t survive it withouther.
My mate.
And gods help whoever stands between me and keeping her alive.
SERA
The moment we reach the firehouse, the flames are already licking the sky.
The heat hits me first, then the smell—burnt rubber, scorched wood, and something else. Something feral. The crew jumps out, snapping into action, but I stay frozen on the step for a half-second longer, scanning the chaos. No sign of the Bensons. No Marcus.
The Captain barks orders, and the team moves like a well-oiled machine, hoses uncoiled and water roaring. But even as they fight the fire, I know it’s a distraction. The real threat? Long gone.
They’re ghosts in the smoke—Bode’s wolves. I can feel them in my blood, the way static charges a storm before it breaks. They were here. This fire. It’s only a message.
A warning.
But I'm certain we won't find the Bensons here.
Then it hits me—sharp and sudden.
A vision.
I stumble, catching myself against the side of the truck as it flashes through me: a clearing in the woods, ringed in stone. A circle. And there, tied to wooden stakes like old pagan sacrifices—Mr. and Mrs. Benson.
The flames haven’t reached them yet. But they will.
“Noah,” I shout into the blaze. “We have to go. Now.”
He catches my tone and is at my side in an instant. I don’t wait. I reach out—not physically, but telepathically.Tori, I push the name into the ether like a prayer.We’re heading to the circle. The Bensons are there.
I don’t know if she hears me, but I don’t have time to wait for confirmation.
Noah and I take off through the trees, leaving the fire and the crew behind.
I hear him shift behind me, bones cracking in fast succession. He’s hungry. And unstable. I keep my distance.
I’m learning fast what it means to love a werewolf.
Especially on a full moon.
We move fast, weaving through the woods like smoke. The wind tears at my hair, and the light of the moon paints the forest floor in silver streaks. Every step draws us closer to the circle—and to whatever nightmare waits there.
Noah veers off the path ahead, running on all fours now, his massive wolf form cutting through the brush like a knife. I can feel his energy radiating back toward me in bursts—wild, barely controlled. He’s fighting the urge to lose himself completely.
I don't call out to him. He wouldn't hear me anyway. Not over the sound of the hunger gnawing at his insides.
We’re both dancing on the edge.
I take a more human shortcut, ducking under a low-hanging branch and sliding down a slope slick with pine needles. My boots catch just in time to keep me from eating dirt. At the base of the hill, I stop.
I duck behind the nearest tree and pull out the box Tori left for me. Bless her for always knowing exactly what I need. Inside: a gun loaded with six silver bullets, a charm bracelet laced with warding glyphs, three small pouches of ash root powder, and an FBI holster, worn but solid. I strap it all on quickly, methodically, like armor. Because that’s what this is now. War.
I pause with the gun in my hands and glance up at the moon. It’s full, round, pulsing with power. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel fear. My shoulders square, spine straightening as if drawn by the moon itself. The power pulsing in my veins hums in tune with the wind. I am not prey tonight. I am the storm.
I holster the gun. I feel ready.
Ready to face whatever Bode has planned.
