Page 11 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter ten

The Wolf’s Protective Duty

NOAH

T he scream splits the air like a lightning strike.

I’m already running.

The ground blurs beneath my feet as I race through the trees, breath harsh, heart pounding. I don’t even realize I’ve started shifting—my legs faster, senses sharper, claws biting into the dirt. Whoever screamed is close.

Too close.

I break through the tree line, and the world stops.

Blood. Pieces of fabric. Flesh. The faint metallic scent of death.

My vision tunnels. One of the female probies—Nicole I think—or what’s left of her--is strewn across the forest floor like the aftermath of a butchered sacrifice. My wolf snarls deep inside, not from hunger but rage. Grief. Horror. Guilt.

Marcus is crouched low at the edge of the clearing. He doesn’t look up when I arrive, just keeps combing through the brush like he’s trying to find something salvageable. It’s a futile effort.

While he's otherwise occupied, I sneak behind a tree and ensure I'm fully phased back.

As I come around the other side, naked from the waist up, Marcus spots me. "Body cam," he mutters more ravaged than I've ever seen him. "She was wearing one. We need to find it." He's sweating like he sprinted all the way from his post nearby.

I nod, forcing my eyes away from the remains. My hands shake as I scan the ground. I remember how she always watched me, shyly seeking my approval, and when she got it, her entire face lit up. And now she’s gone.

It was my job to protect her, to protect all of the probies. I failed her. My wolf failed her.

Within moments, Captain Greene bursts onto the scene, followed closely by Tori, Rivas, a few more senior firefighters—and Sera in a tucked shirt three sizes too big for her.

The Captain whistles low. "Animal attack? Coyote maybe?"

Marcus snorts. "One coyote didn’t do this. Not even a damn pack could."

Sera crouches beside me, eyes sweeping the carnage with clinical precision. "Could’ve been a bear," she offers. "Or a pack of wolves."

I stop her with my eyes. She's getting too close for comfort.

The Captain shakes his head. He’s got that look he gets when things fall outside of his nice, orderly understanding of the world. He’s not an other-worldly kind of guy, and all of these pieces that aren’t adding up are making him very uncomfortable.

Unlike Sera, I’m not in the mood to make it easier on him.

I’m still listening—trying to pick up on scent trails, on energy signatures. Something familiar lingers in the air, but it’s not Nicole. And it’s not a bear or a wolf.

It’s him.

Whoever—or whatever—did this, I’ve smelled them before. In the ash. In the fire.

I crouch low and pick up a blood-slick stone, sniffing the edge.

Definitely not human.

The Captain starts giving orders, directing the others back to the firehouse. Sera and I hang back, both pretending to search for more clues.

I glance at her. Her expression is unreadable, but her hands are balled into fists. She knows something. But hell if I can figure out what.

The others are gone now. The quiet settles in like fog, heavy and clinging.

I kneel near what’s left of Nicole, heart thrumming, every nerve on edge. I should go. Should follow protocol. But I don’t. I need one more moment.

Sera crouches beside me again. "You okay?" she asks, voice soft, but sharp underneath.

"No," I say. "You?"

She doesn’t answer right away. She just keeps looking at the carnage like she's seeing something the rest of us can’t. I follow her gaze.

There, tangled in a bush at the edge of the clearing, something glints. She moves for it, fast, and pulls it free.

It's a piece of Nicole's jewelry.

She passes it to me. Our fingers touch—barely—but it’s enough to jolt something in me again.

That heat.

That damn connection I can’t explain.

I pocket the necklace. “We should let the forensics team handle the rest.”

She nods, standing slowly. “Yeah. Let the experts take over.”

We walk in silence for a few steps.

And then she stops. Turns.

“Do you feel it too?” she asks.

I blink. “Feel what?” I’m not ready to open that fire hydrant yet.

Her eyes are burning into me. “That something about this one isn’t just murder. It’s…personal. And there’s no fire this time. Whoever it was wanted us to find the remains.”

I say nothing. Because she’s right. And because saying so out loud makes it real.

We’re halfway back to the Firehouse when she turns on me.

“What’s going on?” Sera’s voice slices through the dark. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

I stop walking. So does she.

The moonlight washes over her face, and for a moment I forget to breathe. She’s beautiful fury—eyes sharp with firelight, fists clenched like she’s ready to take on the world. Intoxicating.

Dangerous.

I re-gain my composure. “I don’t need to tell you anything, probie,” I snap, the word laced with warning. “You should be the one answering questions.”

She tilts her head, and I catch the shimmer of fire in her irises. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who was out in the woods tonight,” I growl, stepping closer. “Off-post. No camera. No explanation. What are you hiding?”

Her hands clench at her sides. “What are you hiding? Nicole’s dead.”

“Really?” I can’t stop. The tension’s been building all damn night, hell, all week. And now, with a probie dead and my instincts screaming, I’m done pretending.

I move in, close enough to see the distracting ticking of her pulse in her neck. “You weren't casting spells under a full moon?”

Her mouth opens—but no sound comes out.

That’s all the answer I need.

“I don’t know what you think you saw,” she says finally, voice quieter now. “But I was trying to…”

“I don’t care what you were trying to do,” I cut in. This game she’s playing…she needs to understand she’s literally playing with fire.

“You don’t get to play with fire in my woods and act like it’s all under control. You put yourself in danger, and someone else ended up dead.”

“That’s not fair,” she breathes, but her voice cracks. “You don’t understand—”

“Then make me understand,” I say.

Silence. Except our breath. Fast. Hot.

I reach for her arms—maybe to make a point, maybe to stop myself from doing something worse—but the second my hands wrap around her biceps, it hits again. The pull. The heat. That deep, bone-deep knowing.

She gasps. Flames ripple just beneath the surface of her skin, searing a path along my fingertips with a heat that feels alive, pulsing, as if her magic recognizes mine.

Her eyes widen. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She wants answers I can’t give her.

I bare my fangs. “Same question, sweetheart.”

She takes a half-step back like the air between us is too hot to stand in.

But she doesn't run.

Instead, her breath catches. Her lips part. “You think I wanted this?”

“I don’t know what you want,” I growl. “But you’re burning through my restraint like it’s kindling, and that’s not safe for anyone.”

We stand there, fire licking between us, magic and something more pressing in from all sides.

We’re seconds away from crossing a line we can’t un-cross.

And then—

“Hey, you guys!” Marcus’s voice cuts through the trees. “Get your asses back inside. The Captain wants us all for interviews.”

I let go of her arms.

She blinks, as if waking from a dream. Without hesitation, she turns and follows Marcus back to the firehouse.

But the mark of her touch stays with me, seared into my skin like a warning.

I stay a few moments longer, ensuring my animal has re-gained his composure.

My hands are still shaking when I duck into the locker room. I grab a clean shirt from my cubby. As I pull it over my head, something catches my eye in the mirror.

No.

My breath stalls.

The tattoo on my shoulder blade—the wolf claw I inked into my skin when I was fifteen—glows faintly now, pulsing with a silvery red shimmer. It thrums beneath my fingertips like a live wire, a warning, a prophecy waking up under moonlight. Faint, but glowing, pulsing with a soft, silvery red light.

Shit.

That only happens for one reason.

A fated mate.

I press a hand over the mark, willing it to still. But it keeps pulsing, in time with the thundering of my heart.

This can’t be happening. Not now. Not her.

I shove the shirt down, covering it up just as the Captain calls my name.

As I step into the hallway toward the interview room, the heat of her magic still lingers on my skin—and the terrifying truth is, I don’t want it to fade—not the heat, not the memory, not the mark she left behind.