Page 7 of Collar Me Crazy (Hollow Oak Mates #8)

SONYA

T he wind bit sharp with the promise of winter as Sonya made her way back through Hollow Oak's streets the next morning.

November had settled over the mountains with serious intent, painting the trees in the last stubborn shades of amber and rust before the real cold arrived.

Her breath misted in the crisp air, and she pulled her jacket tighter while navigating the cobblestone paths.

Last night's encounter with Ryker had left her restless and confused. The pull she'd felt, the recognition in his eyes before terror took over, the way he'd fled like she carried some kind of plague. Her visions had never been wrong before, but they'd also never been so personal.

Which meant she was missing something important.

The Griddle & Grind was already bustling with morning customers when she passed, and through the windows she caught sight of Twyla serving steaming mugs with knowing smiles. No doubt the fae woman would have plenty of questions about last night, but Sonya wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

Instead, she followed the directions Moira had given her yesterday, taking the forest path that wound toward the Council Glade.

If anyone knew why Ryker had reacted like a spooked deer, it would be Elder Varric.

From what Lucien and Moira had said, the wolf elder had practically raised Ryker after some unnamed tragedy.

The trail led deeper into the woods than she'd expected, past towering oaks whose branches formed a canopy overhead.

Fallen leaves crunched under her boots, and out there in the distance, she could hear the gentle sound of running water.

Magic hummed in the air here, old and patient and carefully contained.

The Council Glade opened before her like a secret garden.

Ancient stones formed a rough circle in the center of a clearing, their surfaces carved with symbols that seemed to shift.

A small stream meandered along one edge, its water catching the filtered sunlight, and the whole space felt hushed with the weight of important decisions made over centuries.

A man stood with his back to her, feeding breadcrumbs to a family of squirrels who chattered at him in what sounded suspiciously like actual conversation. Long silver braids draped over his shoulders, and when he turned at the sound of her approach, his eyes held the color of storm clouds.

"Sonya Sibyl," he said, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. "I wondered when you'd find your way here."

"Elder Varric." She inclined her head respectfully. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"The glade is open to all residents of Hollow Oak. And you are a resident now, whether you realize it or not." He scattered the last of his breadcrumbs and brushed his hands clean. "Your visions brought you here for a reason."

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Sonya moved closer, noting how the squirrels continued their chatter even in her presence. "I met Ryker last night."

"Ah." Varric's expression didn't change. "And how did that go?"

"He ran. Literally. The moment we touched, he looked at me like I was going to destroy his world and then disappeared into the forest."

"Interesting." Varric settled onto one of the stone benches, gesturing for her to join him. "What did you feel when you touched him?"

She felt embarrassed at the intimacy of but still met his steady gaze. "Recognition. The kind that comes before a mating bond, if both parties choose it. But there was something else, something bigger. He's connected to why my visions brought me here."

"Ryker is important to Hollow Oak's future," Varric said carefully. "Always has been, since the day I found him."

"Found him how?"

"That's his story to tell, not mine." The elder's tone brooked no argument. "What I can tell you is that sometimes the greatest gifts come wrapped in the heaviest burdens. And sometimes the people who could save us are the ones most afraid of their own power."

Sonya studied his weathered face, noting the careful way he chose his words. "You're talking about a prophecy."

"I'm talking about possibility. About choice." Varric turned to look at the carved stones. "Tell me about your visions, child. What exactly have you been seeing?"

"Ryker, mostly. Different contexts, different times, but always with this sense of urgency.

Like something important hinges on him, on us meeting.

" She paused, considering how much to reveal.

"And lately, flashes of Hollow Oak itself.

The town, but... wrong somehow. Like something fundamental is breaking. "

Varric went very still. "Breaking how?"

Before Sonya could answer, a vision hit.

The Veil shimmering like heat waves, then cracking like broken glass. Magic bleeding out of Hollow Oak in visible streams, leaving the town exposed and vulnerable. Two figures standing in the midst of the chaos—herself and Ryker, but the scene split like a forked path.

In one version, Ryker's wolf form blazed with silver light, and his howl wove the broken pieces back together, stronger than before. The town safe, the magic restored, their hands clasped as power flowed between them.

In the other, that same silver light turned dark and consuming. The Veil didn't just crack—it shattered completely, taking Hollow Oak's protection with it and the downfall of the residents. And Ryker stood alone in the ruins, her own body crumpled at his feet.

Sonya gasped, the present world rushing back around her. Varric's hands were on her shoulders, steadying her as the vision faded.

"What did you see?" His voice was sharp with urgency.

"Two paths. Two possible futures." She pressed a hand to her forehead, where a headache was building. "In one, Ryker saves the Veil, saves the town. In the other..."

"In the other?"

"He destroys everything. Including me."

Varric was quiet for a long moment, his eyes distant. "That explains his reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"Ryker has lived his entire life believing that caring about people puts them in danger. If he sensed even a fraction of what you just showed me..." Varric shook his head. "Of course he ran. The boy's been running from his own destiny since he was twelve years old."

"But the visions aren't set in stone," Sonya said, frustration creeping into her voice. "They're possibilities, choices that haven't been made yet. He doesn't have to be afraid of them."

"Fear isn't always rational, child. Especially when it's been carved into your soul by tragedy."

A cold gust of wind swept through the glade, sending the last autumn leaves spiraling down around them.

Sonya pulled her jacket tighter, processing what she'd learned.

Ryker wasn't just afraid of hurting her—he was afraid of fulfilling some terrible prophecy that had already shaped his life in devastating ways.

"The visions brought me here to help him," she said finally. "To help choose the right path."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps they brought you here because you're the only one who can.

" Varric stood, his silver braids catching the wind.

"But be warned, Sonya Sibyl. Changing destiny requires more than good intentions.

It requires trust, and sacrifice, and the willingness to walk into darkness without knowing if you'll find light on the other side. "

"What's the alternative? Let him destroy himself trying to avoid a future that might not even happen?"

"There's always a choice," Varric said quietly. "The question is whether you're both brave enough to make it."

He walked away without another word, leaving Sonya alone with the carved stones and her swirling thoughts. The November wind whispered through the trees, carrying scents of woodsmoke and winter, and somewhere out there, she thought she heard the lonely howl of a wolf.

Two paths. Two possible futures. And a man so afraid of his own power that he'd rather live in isolation than risk the people he cared about.

Well, she'd never been one to back down from a challenge.

Even if this one might kill her.