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Maya took a deep breath. She held his gaze despite the flutter of fear in her stomach. "The High Council. They know about me—possibly about what I might be. But I'm not sure. Lena didn't get a chance to finish explaining."

Kieran swore under his breath, his jaw clenching as he struggled to contain his reaction. The muscles in his forearms flexed as his hands balled into fists at his sides. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with controlled fury.

"If they know about the prophecy and suspect you're connected to it..." He shook his head. "This changes everything."

"I'm not afraid," she said, squaring her shoulders despite the fear coursing through her veins.

Kieran's expression softened for just a moment before hardening into determined resolve. He reached for her, his large hand cupping her cheek with surprising gentleness. "You shouldbe," he murmured. "But I won't let them touch you. I'd tear apart anyone who tried."

The fierce possessiveness in his voice should've alarmed her, but instead, it sent a wave of heat through her core. This was no ordinary human male posturing—this was a wolf claiming what was his.

And despite everything her rational mind knew about autonomy and independence, some primal part of her responded to that claim with fierce joy.

FIFTEEN

KIERAN

Kieran's senses prickled before his conscious mind registered the threat. The wind shifted, carrying unfamiliar scents—five distinct markers, all Granite Ridge wolves. His hand shot out, grabbing Maya's wrist in mid-stride.

"Don't move," he commanded, his deep voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

Maya froze, her green eyes questioning but trusting. The copper in her braid caught sunlight filtering through the canopy, creating a halo effect that made his chest tighten. His wolf howled inside him—protect mate.

"What is it?" she whispered, instinctively moving closer to him.

"Ambush." Kieran scanned the surrounding forest, mapping escape routes. They were still fifteen miles from the cave system—too far to outrun wolves. "Five of them. Granite Ridge."

The undergrowth rustled as five figures melted from the shadows, surrounding them in practiced formation. Kieran shifted Maya behind him, his body a shield between her and the approaching threat.

"Well, if it isn't the Silvercrest heir," drawled a tall, rawhide-tough shifter with a jagged scar across his nose. "Playing bodyguard to a human. Your father must be so proud."

Kieran recognized him—Torren, a Granite Ridge enforcer with a reputation for excessively violent takedowns. The other four spread out in flanking positions, cutting off escape routes.

"This doesn't concern Granite Ridge," Kieran growled, adjusting his stance for combat. He could feel the wolf inside him straining for release, clawing at his restraint.

"It does now." Torren's thin lips curled. "The High Council has taken special interest in your... companion. They've authorized us to capture her." His eyes slid to Maya, predatory and calculating. "You know, your failure to eliminate the human as ordered is quite the topic of discussion lately."

Kieran's hand moved imperceptibly toward the hunting knife strapped to his thigh. "You're not taking her anywhere."

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Torren's face. "Going to fight all five of us, heir? Bold, even for you."

Maya's fingers pressed into Kieran's back, the warmth of her touch grounding him. Her scent—wildflowers and earth—filled his senses, strengthening his resolve.

"Leave while you can still walk," Kieran said, his voice deadly calm.

Torren laughed, a harsh sound. "I do enjoy a challenge."

They attacked simultaneously—a coordinated assault that spoke of practiced precision. Kieran moved with lethal efficiency, blocking the first strike from Torren and countering with a brutal uppercut that sent him staggering.

The second attacker received an elbow to the throat, dropping him momentarily. Kieran spun, catching the third with a roundhouse kick that connected with a satisfying crack of ribs.

"Kieran, behind you!" Maya's warning came just in time.

He ducked, narrowly avoiding a swinging branch aimed at his head. The odds were poor—even with his training, five against one left little room for error. Each second brought the wolves closer to Maya.

"You're outmatched, Silvercrest," Torren spat, blood trickling from his split lip. "Give us the human, and we might let you return to your father with some dignity intact."

Kieran bared his teeth, feeling his canines lengthen slightly as his wolf pushed closer to the surface. "You'll have to kill me first."