Page 29

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LANDON

L andon sat with his back against the smooth wall of the cave, legs stretched out before him, fingers absently brushing the pebbles beside him.

The fire they built crackled low between him and Sonya, casting her in flickering gold that clung to the curves of her face, to the gentle furrow of her brow as she stared into the flames.

She’d wrapped her arm after he’d cleaned the wound, stubborn even in pain.

He hadn’t pushed. They both needed silence for a while.

Needed the comfort of just being next to each other, breathing the same air, alive.

But he couldn’t shake what was coming.

The storm building just beyond the horizon.

Roman. The pack. The prophecy that had been hunting him since birth, even if he hadn’t known it until now.

He turned to her. “Tell me everything.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his.

“Everything?”

He nodded.

“About the packs. The rogues. All of it. If I’m supposed to stop Roman, to stop what he’s twisting this prophecy into, I need to understand what I’m walking into.”

Sonya exhaled slowly, nodding.

“Okay.”

She sat cross-legged, and the way her fingers moved in the dirt, tracing invisible lines, reminded him of how she thought—strategic, patient, layered.

“There are four packs in this region,” she began, voice low.

“Ours is the largest. Roman’s pack— my pack—has always ruled from strength. He believes that dominance is the only way to keep us together. Fear, not loyalty.”

Landon’s jaw clenched.

“Sounds about right.”

“Then there’s the Ainsworth pack to the west. Smaller, more traditional. They keep to themselves, don’t want to get involved in anything unless it directly threatens them. East of them, you’ve got the Hollowmoor pack. They used to be strong, but after their alpha was killed in a skirmish years ago, they fractured. Weak leadership, power struggles. Easy pickings.”

“And the fourth?” he asked, already sensing the answer wouldn’t be simple.

She took a breath before meeting his eyes.

“Rogues.”

He frowned.

“I thought rogues were scattered. Lawless.”

“Some are,” she said carefully.

“But not all. There’s a rogue network out there. Wolves who left their packs by choice. Wolves who were banished by alphas like Roman because they wouldn’t fall in line. They live on the fringes—forgotten bloodlines, ancient shifters who remember what came before the packs. Before the rules.”

His chest tightened.

“Like my family.”

She gave a small nod.

“Exactly.”

Landon ran a hand down his face.

“And they’ve all heard of the prophecy?”

“Bits and pieces. Legends passed down, twisted, half-remembered. Most think it’s just a bedtime story to scare pups or give the rogues hope. But now…”

She met his gaze, voice unwavering.

“Now it’s real. You’re real. And Roman will do whatever it takes to claim the story first. To shape it into something that suits him. He’ll use fear, use blood, use me if he has to.”

Landon’s fists curled into the dirt.

“Not anymore.”

Sonya reached over and touched his wrist, her palm warm, grounding.

“You need to be the one to tell the truth, Landon. Before he poisons every ear with lies. Before he convinces them that you’re a threat.”

He looked down at her hand on his, then met her eyes again.

“And if I told them?” he said quietly.

“If I stood in front of these packs, these rogues, and said, ‘I’m the Lycan king’—do you think they’d believe me?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

“But they’ll feel it. They’ll see you.”

“And what do you see?” he asked, softer.

She didn’t hesitate.

“I see a man who’s been walking with the weight of this destiny without even knowing it. I see someone who didn’t run when it got hard. Who saved me, even when he thought I’d betrayed him. I see a leader. And I see a man I’m falling in love with.”

That word— love —spoke louder than anything else she’d said.

It filled the space between them with something warmer than the fire, something that made his chest ache and expand all at once.

He leaned in, brushed a kiss against her temple.

“I don’t want to be a king,” he murmured.

“I just want to keep you safe.”

“You do that by becoming one,” she said.

They sat in the hush that followed, wind rustling the trees outside, the fire crackling low.

After a while, Landon stood, brushing off his jeans.

Light was beginning to emerge through the trees, winking through the branches like quiet witnesses.

He turned toward the east.

“To hell with hiding,” he said.

“I’m done waiting for Roman to bring the fight. I’ll take the truth to them. To all of them.”

Sonya rose beside him, fierce and proud, her hair glowing silver in onsetting rays of the morning sun.

“You’re going to need allies,” she said.

“I’ll find the rogues,” he replied.

“The ones like me. The forgotten. The ones Roman threw away.”

“You’ll have to lead them.”

He met her gaze, steel in his spine now.

“I will.”

And with that, a plan began to form.

It wasn’t a war yet.

But it was coming.

And this time, he would start it.

Not with death.

But with truth.

With choice.

With something stronger than fear. Hope.