Something sparks deep inside me, hot and reckless, skating close to longing. I tear my gaze away, unsettled, yet the sensation clings, burning like a secret mark. Even when I dart after Cassidy, I can feel Gage watching, the weight of his stare heavy on my back—protective, claiming, unrelenting.
We loop back toward the pasture. The mist stirs at the edges of my vision, rising in swirls of color. Cassidy slows beside me, her pace steady, reassuring as we approach the place we shifted.
The thunder deepens, lightning sparking inside the mist. It wraps around me, wild and alive. My paws falter, and in a breath, the wolf falls away. Skin and bone return. I stumble forward, back in human form, breathless and shaking. My hair clings damp against my temples, my pulse racing. Cassidy steadies me with her hands.
“You did it,” Cassidy says softly, wrapping a blanket around me. “Your first run.”
Cassidy keeps her hand on my arm as we walk back toward the porch. My legs still feel uncertain, not quite mine, but the blanket steadies me as much as her presence does. She eases me onto the steps, presses a steaming mug into my hands, and waits until I sip.
“First lesson now that you’ve shifted,” she says, quiet but firm. “Sense-gating. The noise, the smells, the brightness—if you let it all rush you at once, it will flatten you. You have to choose what to open and what to dim.”
She has me close my eyes, breathe, then focus only on the sound of the wind in the pasture. She tells me to picture a dial in my mind. I turn it down until the buzz of insects fades, then lift it until I can hear the barn owls again. The exercise is simple but it makes the chaos inside me ease. For the first time since waking in Galveston, the sharp edges of my senses soften on command.
The adrenaline lingers long after the mist fades. Beyond Cassidy, Gage remains at the tree line, his wolf massive and still. His eyes find mine, holding steady, a silent promise or a warning—maybe both. My skin feels stretched too thin, my heartbeat too loud. The night air still clings to my tongue, sharp and electric, and I swear I can feel the earth pounding beneath paws that are no longer there.
Sleep will not come tonight. I already know it.
CHAPTER 8
GAGE
The mist still clings to the field when I pace the tree line on four paws, nose lifted, ears tuned. Sadie’s howl still echoes in my head, proud and raw, a sound that won’t let me go. My wolf is already free, muscles taut and restless as I stalk the shadows. She’s run for the first time, claimed the night as her own, and I’ve kept my distance only by sheer force of will. Every instinct in me screams to close the space between us, to guard her flank, but discipline keeps me on patrol instead of at her side.
I lope deeper into the shadows, keeping to the outer perimeter. The night is quiet on the surface, but I’ve hunted long enough to know quiet often hides teeth. My paws press silently into the dirt, claws sinking in as I circle wide, each step deliberate, ears swiveling for the faintest sound.
A faint crackle in the soil pulls me toward the base of a tree. I slow, ears pricked, nostrils flaring. The grass is bent wrong, pressed flat where someone stood too long.
Half-buried in the damp earth lies a cigarette butt, the end still faintly glowing before the dew snuffs it out. I lower my muzzle, breathing in the acrid tang until it stings.
Too fresh. Whoever stood here reeked of sweat and foreign spice, nothing like my pack. The scent trails back toward the road, light but clear, a phantom presence lingering in the air. From this spot they had a perfect vantage point into the pasture, straight to her.
A barn owl hoots from deeper in the trees, startled into silence by whatever lingered here before me. Even the crickets have gone quiet, the night holding its breath around the intrusion.
My lips peel back in a silent snarl, fur bristling as the truth sharpens. They were close enough to hear her voice, close enough to watch her run. Proof enough the bastards know she’s alive.
The lights from the house spill across the yard when I return. Cassidy is already ushering Sadie inside, a blanket clutched around her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed, her breath still uneven from the run, eyes wide with exhilaration and something more. The blanket slides off one shoulder, pale skin catching in the lamplight, and her damp hair clings to her temples. She looks like living flame, wild and radiant in a way that makes my chest ache. My wolf snaps to attention, the recognition pounding through me with brutal clarity. Mate.
I shift, dragging on my clothing while keeping a watchful eye over my mate and her sister. I hold myself rigid, forcing every trace of heat from my features until only cold stone remains. She can’t see the truth raging in me, not now. Not until every inch of ground beneath her feet is secured and I know without doubt that she’s safe.
Cassidy’s gaze locks with mine over Sadie’s head. In her eyes I see gratitude, but it’s layered with a sharp edge of warning, a silent reminder that her sister’s safety is not negotiable and I’d better not screw this up.
Sadie peeks around her sister’s shoulder and finds me. Our gazes lock, and for one dangerous beat, everything else fades. She tilts her chin, defiant even now. My chest tightens. The pull between us is savage, and it takes every ounce of discipline not to cross the distance and haul her into my arms.
“See something out there?” Cassidy asks, voice even.
“Tracks. Fresh ones,” I answer. “We’ve got company sniffing around.”
Sadie’s lips part, and I catch the flash of fear before she masks it with a quip. “Great. So much for my victory lap.”
I suppress the beginnings of a smile. Even rattled, she shows her edge. “You ran well.” The words come out rougher than I intend, but true all the same.
Her eyes flare, heat sparking in them. “Don’t sound so surprised.”
Cassidy shakes her head, amusement in her eyes despite the tension. “Both of you need sleep. Tomorrow, we regroup.”
She ushers Sadie toward her room, leaving me rooted in the entryway, the warmth she leaves behind lingering like a brand, tightening around my chest until I can hardly breathe.
I linger at the window long after the house goes quiet, every shadow outside sharpening my focus. The memory of the cigarette butt, the way Sadie looked at me, the snarl coiled in my chest—they knot together until breathing feels like a fight. My wolf knows what this means. Fate has already spoken, and no discipline will silence it. She belongs to me. Whether she realizes it yet or not.
