Page 7 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
And something about the way she moves—deliberate, careful, like she’s trying not to be seen—makes the wolf in me growl low in warning.
I grab my jacket and keys and follow her.
The trees close in quickly, swallowing her silhouette and the last of the firehouse light. I keep my distance, silent and patient, the way I was taught back in the woods outside Missoula, where I first learned to stalk prey without snapping a twig.
Sera doesn’t move like someone out for a walk—she moves like she’s done this before. Purposeful. Silent. She’s hunting something—or worse, tracking it.
She passes the last floodlight and continues on to the burn site, almost as if she knows it’s there.
I duck behind a pine and watch her kneel in the clearing blackened by fire. Even from here, I can see the brittle, carbon-stained earth. The closest burn site to the firehouse. My nostrils flare. There’s something faint in the air beneath the char—an echo of a scent I caught weeks ago but couldn’t name
She brushes ash with her fingertips.
And something happens.
A flash. A ripple, like heat off pavement. Her hand trembles, but she doesn’t pull back. Her shoulders tighten, and her breath catches in a way that makes my own lungs freeze.
I’ve felt that before.
Not here. Not from her. But from the ash itself. Whatever was burned here—it wasn’t natural. And she just touched the memory of it.
My hackles rise.
She reaches down again, slower this time, and pulls something from the dirt. A talisman? No. A simple stone. But the second her fingers close around it, her hand jerks like she’s been burned, but she doesn’t drop it. Just tightens her jaw and breathes through it.
I can’t see it clearly, so I move to get a better view. The branch above me cracks with a sharp snap, splintering under my weight like dry bone.. Rookie move.
That’s when she lifts her head. Her ear toward me. She stands, but doesn’t turn.
My spine snaps straight, and I duck back behind the tree, barely daring to breathe.
Did she see me?
No movement. No shout. A minute passes, then another.
When I peek again, she’s walking away, nonchalantly, pocketing the object like it’s nothing more than a souvenir.
I stay hidden until her footsteps fade completely.
Then I step into the clearing.
The air still hums. Whatever she found, it’s not the only secret buried here. And now I’ve got two mysteries to unravel:
What started this fire?
And who the hell is Serafina Knowles?
Chapter three
Undercover, Under Fire
SERA
By the time I limp back to the dorms from the woods, every muscle in my body is filing a complaint. My shoulders throb from hauling gear, my legs ache from the obstacle course, and even my fingers feel bruised from wrestling with the hose clamps. Turns out pretending to be a rookie firefighter is just as exhausting as actually being one.
I lock the door behind me, kick off my boots, and drop onto the bed. The mattress groans beneath me, thin as a cracker, but it’s heaven compared to standing—and twice as wide as the cots in the bunkhouse. Finally, room to stretch out and breathe. Still, I can’t afford to pass out yet. Not until I log the day’s findings.
I pull the burner phone from my duffel. The cursor blinks at the prompt screen. What do I even type?
