Page 42 of Wolf of the Storm
"It would cut through a lot of the resistance," Tessa continues, ignoring him. "Graeme's wolves, the young ones who think she's a liability—they respect strength, survival, courage. This proves all three."
"I said no." Declan's voice carries the edge of command that makes my spine straighten even though it's not directed at me. "She's not pack-trained. She doesn't know the forest. She doesn't have shifter speed or senses yet. It's a death sentence."
"Tessa's right," I hear myself say, "I'll do it."
Both MacRaes turn to stare at me.
"You don't have to prove anything." Declan's hand finds mine across the table, his grip almost crushing. Through the bond, I feel his fear mixing with anger—fear for me, anger at his sister for suggesting this. "You're my mate. That's enough."
"But it's not." I meet his eyes, let him see my resolve. "You heard them yesterday at the stones. Half the pack thinks I'm a trap, the other half thinks I'm incompetent. I can't investigate a murder, can't work with your allies, can't function if everyone's waiting for me to fail or betray you." I turn to Tessa. "What are the rules?"
"Eliza...”
"What are the rules?" I repeat, firmer this time.
Tessa's lips quirk. "You get a thirty-minute head start. Four shifters hunt you through the forest for one hour. You survive without help, you pass. Simple."
"And if I don't survive?"
"Then you don't." Her bluntness should scare me. Instead, it's almost refreshing after all the careful words and political dancing. "But you're not going to die, if that's what you're worried about. The hunters won't kill you. Though Jax might get... enthusiastic."
"Jax." Of course. Declan's beta, who's made no secret of his belief that I'm a walking disaster. "Who else?"
"Rafe, Grayson, and Kian. Finn will keep time and enforce the rules." Tessa stands, grabbing her keys. "Tomorrow morning. Dawn. North woods. Don't be late."
She's gone before Declan can argue further, the door swinging shut behind her with a finality that makes my stomach clench.
"You don't have to do this." Declan's still holding my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "I can handle the pack. I can make them accept you."
"By forcing them?" I shake my head. "That's not respect, that's fear. And fear makes people do stupid things—like work with a summoner to get rid of the human they think is compromising their alpha." I squeeze his hand. "I need to do this. Not for them. For me. So I know I can."
His jaw works, and I feel the war inside him through the bond—the alpha who knows I'm right fighting the mate who wants to lock me away where nothing can hurt me. Finally, he exhales roughly. "Then we train. All day. I'm not sending you into the forest unprepared."
The following day, dawn comes too quickly.
The north woods are old-growth forest, thick with ancient trees whose canopies block most of the early light. Mist clings to the ground, and every sound seems magnified in the pre-dawn quiet—the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves, my own too-fast heartbeat.
Finn stands at the forest's edge, looking more otherwordly than usual in the half-light. His aquamarine eyes are distant, unfocused—tracking time in ways I can't perceive. "The rules are simple. Thirty minutes to hide. One hour to survive. Step outside the boundary markers”...he gestures at ancient stones carved with symbols I don't recognize...”and you forfeit. Use weapons, you forfeit. Call for help, you forfeit."
"Understood." My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
"The hunters are already in position, downwind and out of scent range. When I give the signal, they'll come for you." His expression softens slightly. "You're braver than most, Eliza Warren. Try to stay that way for the next ninety minutes."
"Comforting."
"I wasn't aiming for comfort." He tilts his head. "Declan wanted to be one of the hunters. I told him no. He's currently secured behind wards at Wolfstone, furious but contained. Try not to get killed—I don't want to be the one who tells him I failed to protect his mate."
Before I can respond, he makes a sharp gesture, and power ripples through the air like a bell tone. "Your time starts now. Run."
I run. The first twenty minutes are pure survival instinct.
I use every trick Declan taught me yesterday—staying off game trails where my scent would linger, moving through water when I can, to break my trail, climbing trees to change elevation and confuse tracking patterns. My investigative training helps—I've chased stories through hostile territory before, lost tails in foreign cities, disappeared when I needed to.
This is the same. Just with higher stakes and predators who can smell fear.
I'm maybe a mile in when I hear the howl. It echoes through the forest, wordless but clear in its meaning: the hunt has begun.
My pulse spikes. I force myself to breathe slowly, think clearly. Four hunters. Four different approaches. Rafe will be silent—panthers are ambush predators. Grayson will be methodical, using his bear's stamina to outlast me. Kian will be fast, relying on tiger reflexes to close distance. And Jax...
