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LANDON

L andon stared at his hands for the third time that morning.

Nothing.

No shimmer.

No glow. Just skin—calloused from lifting firewood, knuckles faintly bruised from that scrap at school last week.

Normal. Solid. Human.

Still, he couldn’t stop looking.

The memory of the dream clawed through his skull like a beast pacing its cage.

The fire. The golden-eyed wolf.

That voice— Wake. It hadn’t felt like a dream.

It felt like a command.

Like it had come from inside him.

But that was crazy. Wasn’t it?

Not all wolves are born with teeth.

Some are made with fire.

Aunt Jen’s voice rang in his ears again, that same half-mystic cadence she used when she talked about lunar energy or past lives or the way water “remembered things.” He’d brushed it off his whole life.

But now?

Now his hands had glowed .

And he needed answers.

He got off work from Juniper Roast just after two—apron tossed in the back, shirt still smelling like espresso and vanilla syrup.

He didn’t even bother changing.

Just drove straight up the winding back road to his aunt’s cabin, boots tapping impatiently on the gas pedal.

The trees blurred past in streaks of orange and green.

Fall had officially taken over the hills, but all Landon felt was heat under his skin.

He parked crooked in the gravel drive, heart hammering.

No smoke from the chimney.

No lights on.

He frowned and hopped out.

“Jen?” he called, stepping up to the porch.

“You here?”

Silence.

He knocked. Then again, louder.

Still nothing.

Finally, he tried the handle.

Unlocked. The door creaked open to the familiar scent of lavender and patchouli.

Inside, everything was still—nothing out of place.

Just... empty. Like the space between heartbeats.

A mug with dried tea residue lingered near the sink.

And a note—scrawled on the back of an envelope—was pinned under a smooth black stone

If you stop by, I’ve gone hiking with the girls.

Spotty service. Don’t worry.

Love you, kiddo – J.

Landon snatched his phone from his pocket and called her anyway.

Straight to voicemail.

“Dammit,” he muttered, then texted We need to talk.

Like, now. Are you really gone?

This isn’t a joke, right?

A minute passed. Then his phone buzzed.

Service bad. Gone a few weeks.

Don’t worry. You’re stronger than you think.

He stared at the message.

His gut said this wasn’t normal.

Aunt Jen didn’t just disappear—especially not when he was unraveling.

Not when she had been the one to open the door to these ideas in the first place.

The timing was too clean.

Too convenient. But then again, how was she to know he was coming undone when he hadn’t told her anything?

And then he saw the movement.

Just a flicker in the corner of his eye—down the gravel path that led toward the southern trail.

Two figures moving fast, heads low, dressed in black jackets with no markings.

He ducked near the window and squinted.

Recognition struck like a lightning bolt to the ribs.

It was those guys— Roman’s guys.

The ones who’d flanked him back at the trailhead like silent bodyguards with dead eyes.

Kian and... what was the other one?

Mace?

Landon only knew because Sonya briefly told him him when asked after they had left, but that was all the information she would give him.

Landon’s breath hitched.

What the hell were they doing here?

He waited a beat, then slipped out the back door and followed the ridge above the trail, careful to stay behind the brush.

They didn’t look back.

Just kept walking, fast and hushed, toward the creek line.

Their voices carried faintly through the trees.

Landon crouched behind a thick trunk and held his breath.

“Roman’s losing patience,” one of them said.

Mace, maybe. His voice had that gravelly smoker’s rasp.

“He’s starting to see her as compromised,” the other replied.

Kian, most likely. Sharper tone.

Less emotion. “Too close to the subject.”

Landon’s pulse spiked.

Her? Subject?

“Did you hear what she found?” Mace asked.

“About the name?”

“Yeah,” Kian said.

“Grevaris. Same root as Graves. She thinks it’s real. That he’s the one.”

Landon nearly choked on his own breath.

“She’s playing with fire,” Mace muttered.

“Roman won’t let her derail this. If the prophecy’s true, and he’s the one…”

“Then killing him’s no longer a clean option.”

There was a pause.

Then Kian added, voice colder than the breeze, “Doesn’t mean we won’t do it anyway.”

Landon’s blood turned to ice.

They started walking again, deeper into the trees.

He stayed low, hidden, heart roaring like thunder in his ears.

Prophecy.

He’s the one.

Kill him anyway.

He had no idea what the hell they were talking about.

Not fully.

But his gut told him enough.

They were talking about him.

And Sonya was in the middle of it.

Chapter 15 Sonya

The summons came at dusk.

A folded note delivered by Mace, Roman’s enforcer, reeking of musk and control.

No signature, just three words scratched in ink that somehow managed to bleed arrogance.

“Bring him in.”

Sonya read it twice.

Her fingers didn’t shake.

Her wolf did.

She stood on the edge of the old riverbank, dusk bleeding into violet, the water lapping quietly at the mossy stones.

Every instinct screamed.

Every lesson clawed at her spine—obedience, hierarchy, loyalty.

But the image of Landon’s face, lit by firelight, his voice gentle and raw as he told her he felt safe near her.

..

That was what clung to her ribs.

Roman had waited longer than she’d expected.

She’d seen it building in him for weeks—like pressure under skin.

Landon was no longer a question mark.

He was a threat. Because Roman couldn’t control him.

Couldn’t own him.

And that made him dangerous.

Sonya crumpled the note in her fist and turned on her heel, boots crushing dead leaves as she made her way to the northern bluff, where the compound watched the forest like a wolf watching prey.

Roman was waiting.

He stood outside the stone arch of the inner hall, hands clasped behind his back, black coat snapping slightly in the wind.

Behind him, firelight spilled from within, catching the gold in the sigils etched above the door—symbols of power, lineage, law.

Symbols Sonya was rapidly starting to hate.

“You got my message,” Roman said without turning.

“I did.”

He faced her then, eyes narrowing.

“Where is he?”

She didn’t answer.

Roman’s smile twitched.

“Don’t play dumb, Sonya. This isn’t a request.”

“Then what is it?” she asked, voice tight.

“An abduction? A public execution dressed up in ritual?”

He arched a brow.

“You think so little of me?”

“I think I know you well enough by now.”

He stepped toward her, voice silk over steel.

“You said he was tied to the prophecy. That he might be the one we’ve waited for. If that’s true, he belongs here. With us. ”

“Or maybe you just want him here so you can control him,” she snapped.

“Break him before he even knows what he is.”

Roman’s jaw tensed, but he smoothed his tone.

“You’re emotional. I get it. But if he’s a part of our future, don’t you think it’s smarter to bring him under the roof rather than leave him unguarded? Vulnerable?”

“Vulnerable,” she echoed, bitter.

“You mean alone. So no one can see when he doesn’t walk back out.”

Roman didn’t deny it.

He just smiled.

Sonya’s stomach turned.

“You’re afraid of him,” she said quietly.

“And you want to cage what scares you.”

Roman stepped so close she could feel his breath.

“I want to preserve the pack. Which is what you were supposed to do. Not fall for him. ”

The words hit like a slap.

And she didn’t deny them.

Which was answer enough.

Roman’s eyes darkened.

“You’re compromising everything. Our structure. Our balance. Your position. ”

“If protecting him is compromise, then maybe your structure’s the problem.”

Silence stretched between them, cold and sharp.

Then a voice cut through the dark and that’s when Sonya noticed that a good portion of the pack was there.

Not the elders, not the pups.

But the young warriors.

The grew she knew best.

“You should be careful who you accuse,” Lena said as she strode down the path, dark hair in a tight braid, arms crossed like she’d been waiting for this.

“Roman’s patience isn’t infinite.”

Sonya turned.

“What, are you finally officially his side-bitch now?”

Lena’s eyes flicked to Roman as Sonya saw her wolf aura gleam slightly at the insult, then back to Sonya.

“You’re not the only one who he trusts, princess . I’m loyal.”

“To what?” Sonya asked.

“A leader who’s threatened by anyone he can’t leash?”

Lena stepped forward, expression tight.

“To the pack. Not to emotion. Not to outsiders.”

“This isn’t about emotion.”

“Then bring him in,” Lena snapped.

“Show the others that you’re still one of us.”

Sonya stared at her.

At the other woman who once trained beside her, bled beside her.

And realized something terrifying.

They weren’t the same anymore.

“Loyalty doesn’t mean blind obedience,” Sonya said.

Lena’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her eyes—doubt, maybe.

Or fear.

Roman spoke again, his voice a dark lull.

“Bring him to the compound, Sonya. Do it tonight. Let us test him. Let us see if what you believe is true.”

“And if it is?” she asked.

“Then we welcome him,” he lied smoothly.

“Into the fold.”

“And if it’s not?”

Roman’s smile was all wolf.

“Then we do what must be done.”

She nodded, once.

Then turned and walked away without a word.

She didn’t go to Landon.

Not yet.

She needed time.

A plan. Roman would send others soon if she didn’t act.

And if he laid a single finger on Landon.

..

She didn’t finish the thought.

Instead, she took the long path through the woods, her body humming with adrenaline, her heart pounding out one truth over and over again.

She had made her choice.

And there would be no turning back.