Page 14 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter thirteen

Scent of a Witch

SERA

I barely make it back to my dorm without collapsing. So grateful to be in the bigger bed and not on duty in the bunkhouse tonight.

My legs ache, my head’s a tangle of smoke and adrenaline, and my heart refuses to settle after everything that’s happened. The words of Marcus and Jamie echo in my ears.

What made me speak up when I was supposed to stay in the shadows?

Was it the heat of the moment or was it the guilt clawing at my insides, knowing I had a truth they didn’t, a truth I could no longer keep buried?

Someone had to say something, right? And there are things that I can see and hear that others can’t.

I thought it might help them to know. It didn’t.

And now I’m kicking myself for my stupidity.

I could tell Noah wasn’t pleased with my choice, but no matter. He should be happy I’m staying put at night. Even when I need to get out. I need to do more. I need to find evidence that can put this nightmare to an end.

And Noah…the last time we had a real conversation. His words—firm, protective, maddening. And the vision I saw of him. What does it all mean? Every day brings us closer to an outcome we can’t control. Call it fate if you like, but it feels more like an omen.

The moment I kick my boots off, I’m ready to crawl under the sheets and forget the world exists.

Then my burner phone vibrates.

Two words. One name.

“Let’s meet.”—Ember

I stare at the screen like it's cursed—like the name itself might burn into my retinas if I blink. My throat tightens, and a cold prickle slides down my spine. This is the message I’ve dreaded, the summons I can’t ignore.

The timing couldn’t be worse, but Ember doesn’t ask twice. If they say “meet,” I go.

My stomach turns as I tug on the black jeans and hoodie hidden in the bottom of my bag. I’m not just sneaking out of the firehouse—I’m breaking the thin thread of trust I’ve managed to build with Noah. And somehow, that bothers me more than anything else.

I double-check the recorder, the stone, and the ashes sealed in a sample jar. All there. All ready for Ember. Still, something in my chest clenches.

Slipping out of my dorm is easy. Quiet. My boots barely make a sound as I step through the rocks and disappear into the tree line. I don’t look back as I follow it along to the road.

A black SUV idles a hundred feet down, headlights off.

I approach the passenger side and pause. The tinted window rolls down.

“Ember?” I ask.

A voice that could be either man or woman replies smoothly, “Sera.”

The door unlocks with a soft click. I slide in.

Inside, it’s dim. Ember sits still and silent, masked in a dark wig and pale latex skin, eyes hidden behind mirrored glasses that reflect nothing back.

The air feels tight around them, like pressure in a sealed jar.

I tense—seeing them like this is like staring into a void where something dangerous might blink back.

Completely unrecognizable. My pulse quickens.

I’ve heard this voice a hundred times on encrypted calls, but sitting next to them now? It’s different. Chilling.

“The evidence?” Ember asks, gloved hand out.

Wordlessly, I pass the recorder, the sample of ash, and the stone into their palm. A shiver runs up my spine. The air in the car is cold, sterile. The seat…hard. I shift to get more comfortable.

They weigh the items like a jeweler inspecting rare gems. When they are done, they place the items in a special evidence bag and fasten the seat belt.

Ember pulls out. “Where were you three nights ago when I called?” the voice sharpens.

I clear my throat. “On rotation. The probie—Nicole—she was killed. Mauled, like by an animal.”

Ember’s head tilts, considering. “That’s convenient.”

I clench my jaw. “I didn’t say it was clean. Or easy.”

They lean in slightly. “Get to the bottom of this, Sera. Fast. Suspects?”

My mind races. “Uncle Bode. That film crew. Maybe Marcus.”

“And Noah?” she questions.

I freeze. Say something. Anything.

My silence answers for me.

Ember exhales slowly. “Keep him close. He’s still the best fit for the profile. He was there, wasn’t he? When the girl was mauled.”

I don’t respond. I can’t.

All I know is that Noah fed that night, then he came back. Then there were screams, and there he was. He and Marcus were the first on the scene.

And I sure as hell don’t tell them about the scent I caught on Marcus when he got back to the firehouse.

Not yet.

Ember drives in silence, the engine humming like a warning beneath my feet.

“What can you tell me about Captain Greene?” I ask. “I noticed his name wasn’t on the list.”

He’s legit. He called it in when Leighton disappeared.

I cough against my will, caught off guard.

“Does he know who I am?”

Ember contemplates this. “I don’t think so. Although he did do us a favor to secure you a spot. He didn’t know it was us, of course.”

I let this new info marinate in my brain.

“How did Captain Green know Leighton?” No answer.

“You know, anything you can share might help me protect my cover and make sure I don’t end up like Leighton.” I’m desperate to know who is on my side, and right now I’m not feeling the love from my handler.

Ember slows the vehicle and turns off the headlights. “You’re on a need to know basis only.” She pauses. I feel my blood starting to bubble. Damn F.B.I. protocols. Too many lies. Too many secrets.

“Captain Greene and Agent Leighton were war buddies in Afghanistan. Leighton came to Lolo because a cold case related to several arsons in other states led him here. Re-connecting with Greene proved to be a good cover. Obviously, he trusted him well enough to give him the emergency number. You can trust him too. He checks out.”

I blink as if I’m taking pictures with my eyes, capturing the pieces for later.

“What was the cold case? What did Greene say happened?”

Ember says nothing. I have reached the border of what I need to know apparently.

When we reach the edge of the woods, the SUV slows and pulls into a shadowed patch just off the road—same place as before. Before I can open the door, Ember speaks again.

“One more thing.”

I turn, the weight of their gaze—glasses or not—pinning me in place.

They reach into the center console and pull out a small evidence bag. Inside: a scorched, cracked body cam. My stomach knots.

“This belonged to the dead probie.” They already knew. “Take a look,” Ember says, handing it to me. “Then get it back into evidence.”

I stare at the camera like it might bite. “Where did you get this?”

They don’t answer.

But this time I don’t need one. I know who retrieved it from the site. I remember the moment, the scent. Marcus.

Something not entirely human clung to him then—and this camera had been in his hands when I followed him back to the Firehouse.

I shove the thought aside. Carefully, I take the bag. “You want me to plant this back with the Captain?”

“Eventually,” Ember says. “First, watch it. Tell me what you see.”

The passenger door pops open.

“Be careful,” Ember adds. “And the next time we meet, I want answers. I know you're holding out on me.”

I step out of the car, heart hammering, the camera clenched in my fist. I feel the noose tightening around my neck.

When I glance back, the SUV is already gone.

I slip through the trees, keeping low, hugging the shadows. My boots crunch against gravel just once before I remember to lift my feet properly. The firehouse looms down the road, dark and still except for a porch light flickering near the main dorm entrance.

Every creak of the floorboards inside feels louder tonight.

My pulse doesn’t calm until I’m back in my room with the door locked and my headphones plugged into the ancient laptop I brought from the field office. I prop the body cam on the pillow, angle the tiny lens toward me, and press play.

At first, there’s static. Just the probie’s breath—fast, nervous. She’s turning in a slow circle. Then comes the sound of snapping twigs. A flash of movement. A low growl.

I lean in, breath held.

Out of the shadows emerges something massive. Black fur. Eyes like polished obsidian. One has a glint of red in it. More monster than wolf, it stands tall like a man but built like no man I’ve ever seen. My stomach turns. The wolf doesn’t hesitate. It lunges. Claws swipes at the camera.

And then… nothing. Just a blank screen.

The rest of the footage is black, save for the sound of breathing—guttural, furious.

I sit back, heart pounding. “Oh my God.” My whole body recoils. It’s not just fear—it’s recognition. Not of the creature itself, but of the danger it represents.

It’s not a wolf. Or a werewolf. Or even the wolf that attacked me. This is an alpha wolf beyond my imagination. And it knew the camera was there. It looked at it. Swiped it down like it understood what it was. Few werewolves have that presence when their animal is in charge.

I press pause, screen frozen on the blurry shape mid-leap. The angle’s wrong for a clear ID, but the size, the posture… this isn’t your average rogue shifter. This one is bigger. Smarter. More calculating.

The kind of creature that belongs in the nightmares of warlocks and witches alike.

I clench my fists, trying to make sense of what I’ve seen. And now I’m expected to sneak this back into evidence. And let who…the police, the Captain, the Mayor…see it. Did Ember watch it? She must have. And now what was she expecting me to tell her that she didn’t already know?

There’s a knock at my door.

Shit.

I freeze.

Another knock, then his voice, low and rough:

“I know you’re in there, Sera… I can smell you.”

My breath catches. That’s not a turn of phrase. That’s a fact. He means it.

I glance at the laptop, then the evidence bag. Panic floods my chest.

Do I hide it? Come clean? Pretend nothing’s happened?

No time.

I flick off the light, press the lid of my laptop down, and move toward the door on trembling legs.

He’s still there. I can feel him through the wood.

Waiting. Watching.

Knowing.

I hesitate at the door, one hand gripping the knob, the other still tingling from the ghost of that footage. My heart pounds like it’s trying to warn me off, but I open it anyway.

Noah stands in the hallway, broad shoulders nearly filling the frame, shadows licking the edge of his jaw. For a split second, I recoil, imagining him as that creature on the video.

His nostrils flare the moment he sees me, his eyes narrowing. That low sound—half sigh, half growl—escapes him again, and my whole body lights up like it recognizes the pitch of his soul.

“You’ve been out,” he says quietly.

It’s not a question.

I glance down at myself—black jeans, hoodie still zipped up. The smell of the woods still clings to me. I forgot to change. Dammit.

Noah steps forward. I don’t move.

His gaze drags over me, not in a hungry way—though heat simmers between us—but in a way that tells me he’s cataloging everything. Observing. Confirming. The same way I was trained to do.

He walks in without asking, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

I wasn’t. Or maybe I was.

He reaches for my hand. I pull back, but it’s too late—he’s already seen the slight tremor. But that doesn’t stop him from his mission. “What the hell was that at the cemetery? And then you take off in the middle of the night.” His tone is scalding.

I shake my head. I can’t explain it to him. To myself. I feel his disappointment in every bone in my body though.

My brain scrambles for an excuse, a lie, anything —but I’m exhausted, and the truth’s too close to the surface. So I resort to an old FBI technique–I change the subject.

“I have something you need to see,” I whisper.

Noah takes it, his fingers brushing mine, sending a flicker of energy down my spine. He doesn’t flinch. He slides the body cam out and connects it to my laptop with silent efficiency. For a moment, it’s just us and the whirr of the machine.

The footage plays.

I watch his expression morph—from disbelief to recognition to something darker. Something primal.

When it ends, the silence is thick.

“How do we explain this?” I ask, my voice barely audible.

He doesn’t speak right away. Then, without looking at me, he closes the laptop and stands.

“I don’t think we do.”

He tucks the camera back into the bag, turns toward the door, and opens it.

“I trust you’re going to get that back into evidence,” I say, more statement than question. "I promised."

He pauses a moment, digesting my meaning. And just like that, he’s gone.

I sink onto the edge of my bed, airless. What just happened?

Did he recognize the wolf?

Does he know who it is?

Is he starting to connect the dots of why I am really here?

I stare at the door long after it clicks shut.

The secrets are piling up. So is the danger.

And I’m no longer sure which one of us has the most to hide.